Page 32 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)
S tepping out of the skyway, something crackled in the night-drenched parking garage. It was softer, drowned by the buzz of the light fixtures, but it was there, loud and strong. The skin on my neck prickled, the conversation on my earpiece was abandoned, and my fingers inched toward my weapon.
Where are you?
Too many cars were parked haphazardly to see clearly. It might be after ten at night, but there were still plenty of business professionals eager to make a buck, refusing to be the ones who left work early.
Another sound caught my attention, this time a distinct shuffle of feet against concrete. I froze, my hand now fully gripping my pistol beneath my suit jacket.
A metallic clang echoed through the garage—a car door maybe? Or something worse. The scurrying grew sharper. Closer. I hunched, peering around me for any flicker of movement.
Where the hell are you?
Maybe they didn’t know I was here. I crouched low, moving from car to car. But then several empty spaces spilled before me before the next vehicle.
Crap.
Just as I was about to make a run for it, the sound of a bullet jacking into the chamber made me freeze.
I drew my own weapon and rose.
A dark figure lunged from behind a concrete pillar twenty feet ahead, face obscured by a black ski mask, arm extended with the unmistakable silhouette of a handgun.
Pure instinct saved me. I dropped to the ground as the first shot exploded through the space where my head had been a split second earlier. The bullet pinged against the metal door behind me.
Another bullet, this one hovering just over the concrete, had me leaping to the side.
Pop. Pop. Pop!
Rolling behind the nearest car, I took aim.
A bullet whistled past my face as I hid behind the sedan. This motherfucker had me cornered.
From somewhere deep in the parking ramp, a woman screamed. “Call the cops, call the cops!”
At the civilian’s shouts, my attacker paused.
I leaned over, meeting his icy brown stare. He wore a hoodie in this sweltering summer heat, and with his face covered, there was nothing else to make him distinct.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
He raised his gun, but the click said the chamber was empty.
The hiss of frustration was muffled by the balaclava as he shoved the weapon in his jeans. Then he took off.
I was up and after him, my dress shoes slapping against the concrete. Adrenaline spiked my veins, giving me the push I needed.
The roar of a bike thundered through the parking garage. I rounded the row just as he sped past. If I was five seconds sooner, I could have tackled him.
Instead, I watched the assassin leave.
Breathing hard, I raked my hands through my hair. White hot blood pumped through my veins. I was…shaking.
Cursing the surge of adrenaline, and refusing to call this reaction anything else, I holstered my own weapon and shot a glance above.
The cameras. Dammit. Dammit!
I pressed a button on my phone, and the call rang in the earpiece a moment later.
“Pronto,” Alessandro clipped into my ear.
“Some scrawny fucker in a balaclava took a shot at me before tearing away on an Indian Scout,” I barked.
“Are you okay?”
The question caught me off guard. As the don, his first question should be details of the situation.
We needed to crack down on this. Make sure the assailant didn’t know I was linked to the underworld.
And if it was just a hit against Leonard the businessman, then why was someone trying to take me out?
But my brother asked about me.
A funny feeling tickled deep inside.
“I’m fine,” I breathed. “I ducked just in time.”
“Any idea who it was?”
“None, but you need to have your tech guys erase me from the footage. Maybe the cameras picked up his plates,” I added.
Was my voice…shaking? No, that wasn’t right.
Like my brother, I was trained to show no fear. I was bathed in blood as a teen, learning to fight in the underworld. While I went into business, I never lost the cruel edge being born into a mob gave me.
“Want to come over for a drink?” my brother offered, voice soft and full of understanding.
I hated it. “Nah, I’m going to sleep it off. Let me know if you find anything. We can’t have this fucker coming after me and leading anyone to the rest of you.”
“On it,” the don assured me.
I hung up. My mouth was dry, and it craved the refreshing medicine that was our family butler’s martinis. But I would have to make do with the scotch I had at my apartment.
Disappearing into a stairwell, I jogged down a few flights to where a backup vehicle was waiting. The precaution was just one of many instances where I needed to escape unnoticed. I was the dark knight, the lone wolf. I walked alone, protecting my pack from danger.
I was going to be fine.