The Enforcer's Sister

Chapter Nine: Archer – 9:55 P.M. A Risky Getaway.

We sprinted towards the exit in a desperate frenzy, but before we could reach safety, my Bentley erupted in a massive fireball, sending debris flying in all directions. Chaos ensued as Ajax took a hit and fell to the ground. Sandra's scream pierced through the chaos, and Mark cursed in frustration.

Realizing that I was the primary target, my heart raced as I scanned the area for an escape route, my mind racing to formulate a plan. And then my eyes met Mark’s, and I watched as he slowly looked at Sandra and then back at me and I knew what needed to be done.

"Get Sandra to safety," I commanded, my voice filled with urgency.

Mark hesitated for a moment, holding my gaze before finally nodding. He reached for Sandra, who clung to me in fear and disbelief.

"Ken, Andrew, go with Mark. It's best if we separate," I instructed, addressing my remaining men.

Ken voiced his concern, questioning my decision, while Andrew silently locked eyes with me, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Hundred percent," I assured them. There was no time for doubts or second-guessing.

Sandra's voice trembled with worry as she protested, "What about you?!"

"I'll call you tomorrow, babe," I responded with a confidence I barely felt. Her horrified expression showed her disbelief, but I couldn't afford to dwell on it. Another barrage of bullets struck the area, and Sandra allowed Mark to pull her away.

Once they were at a safe distance, I turned to my remaining bodyguards, determination burning in my eyes. "Our getaway is gone. We'll have to run for it," I declared.

"Yes, boss," they chorused in unison. We waited for a lull in the gunfire before making our move, firing back as we made our way outside. The pain from my wounds slowed me down, but I refused to succumb to defeat.

Using the packed cars as shields, we sought refuge in a side alley. However, the relentless gunmen continued their assault, their shots resonating through the night air. With each passing moment, my strength waned, blood continued to flow from my wounds, and my vision blurred.

As we turned a corner, my body betrayed me, and I stumbled, crashing to the ground. Chad's voice called out my name, distant and muffled as thunder rolled overhead. Rain began to pour, mingling with the pain and chaos surrounding me.

I chuckled to myself, the situation veering far from my expectations. At least the night had started well, even if it had taken a dramatic turn. Droplets of rain pelted my face, obscuring my vision.

"Boss?" Chad's worried voice broke through. We both knew it would be better for him to die in my place than return to Victor Donovan with the news of my demise.

"Don't worry, I'm not leaving you today..." I assured him, mustering the strength to sit up with a grunt. Assessing our surroundings, I realized we had reached the end of the alley, adjacent to a dumpster.

"Maybe you should stay here, and I'll go find a car, boss," Chad suggested, concern etched on his face.

"Fine," I acquiesced, my voice strained. He broke into a run, leaving me alone against the wall.

I pressed myself against the wall, clutching my gun with my remaining good hand, blood continuing to drizzle down my sleeves. Slowly, I slid to the ground, trying to catch my breath. The pain overwhelmed me, my body trembling with each passing second, and my heart pounding in my chest as I drew each breath. The rain intensified, blending with the distant wails of sirens. If Chad didn't return soon, I would either bleed to death or fall prey to the gunmen.

To my left, I spotted movement and immediately aimed my gun, ready to defend myself. A familiar figure appeared in my line of sight, and I cocked my gun, seething with anger.

"One more move and I'll blow your brains to smithereens," I warned, my voice filled with fury. The girl cautiously raised her hands, her innocent brown eyes contrasting with the rage that ignited within me. She carried the bag that I had discarded in my car—the car she had threatened to blow up just moments ago.

"So, it was you. You're working with them!" I snarled, my disappointment and anger mixing into a potent brew. I had been fooled by her innocent appearance, believing she posed no threat.

"This night just keeps getting stranger," she remarked, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I didn't do anything you're accusing me of. I'm just trying to get home."

"And I'm supposed to believe that? Do I look stupid to you?" I growled, my blood boiling at the thought of being deceived by her seemingly innocent gaze.

"Listen, I got into your car..." she started.

"My locked car!" I interjected.

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a gingerly shrug, "I'm pretty good at opening locked doors."

"Do they teach you that in Chemistry class?" I mocked, feeling a hint of amusement despite the dire circumstances.

"No, but it came in handy growing up," she replied. I snarled, unconvinced by her words.

"Tell me, is there anything I can do to make you believe me? I don't know who you are or what you've gotten involved in, but I'd rather stay out of it. How about you..." she trailed off.

Raising my hand required too much effort, and I watched as her gaze shifted downward, fixing on my left side. Her eyes narrowed in realization.

"You're wounded," she whispered to herself, a touch of sympathy coloring her voice. When my hand lowered, she darted out of my view, taking cover behind the dumpster.

"Shit, shit, shit," I heard her muttering to herself. "No, Adele, keep going, don't look back. Come on! Keep. Fucking. Going."

If I weren't on the verge of death, I might have found the situation amusing. Perhaps she wasn't working for Bernard Kuklinski after all. Maybe she was simply unlucky, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I drew in a sharp breath as she reappeared in my line of sight. Instinctively, I raised my gun, ready to defend myself.

"I will kill you," I warned her firmly.

"That's what I get for trying to help," she retorted, her frustration evident. She moved closer, crouching beside me and reaching for my suit.

"If you try anything, I swear I'll..." I started, my voice laced with threat.

"Kill me. I know," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. The audacity of her! Despite the darkness of the alley, I could see her face clearly when she got closer. I let her remove my suit, and she tore off my shirt with a pocket knife.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"Sorry, I didn't think it was appropriate to undress you slowly while you were bleeding to death," she retorted sarcastically. Despite the pain, I couldn't help but hide a smile, focusing on her face—her upturned button nose, the shadow it cast over her full lips, the perfectly arched eyebrows, and her attractively prominent cheekbones. Her curls were tucked under her hat, which she had now worn backward, granting me a better view of her face.

Pain ripped through me as she probed my side, causing me to grunt through clenched teeth.

"Sorry..." she muttered. "Looking for the... Found it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, holding up the bullet.

"Hmm..." I grunted, feeling her pour something on the wound that made me jerk upright. I clenched my forearm against the wall, suppressing the urge to yell in agony. "Son-of-a..."

"Sorry!" she whispered. "I was disinfecting the wound." I couldn't respond; the pain was overwhelming, pulsating through my body. She wrapped bandages around my torso, and then her attention turned to my thigh.

A dark figure emerged behind her, holding a diverse magnum in their hand. Without a second thought, I fired, causing her to tremble but I didn’t fail to notice that she did not scream. She leaned into me, pressing her hands against my chest. I could feel her breath on my skin, her sweet scent filling my nostrils. My heart constricted, and an unexpected surge of desire coursed through me. It was a bizarre mixture of pain and pleasure. She remained in that position for a minute before slowly pulling away, our eyes meeting.

"Take your time," I quipped, unable to resist.

Her expression shifted instantly, and she glared at me. Again, she tore through the fabric, revealing the bullet wound on my upper thigh. It was dangerously close to my groin, and her hand brushed against the bulge in my trousers, impossible to ignore.

"Um, maybe you should try opening your legs wider," she suggested. I ignored her, focusing on her face through heavily lidded eyes.

"Hey!" she called, leaning closer to peer into my eyes.

"You move it," I rasped rudely. She cursed and shoved my legs apart. The pain intensified, and I grunted in agony. But when she resumed tending to my leg, her hand continued to brush against me. I held my breath, trying to endure both the pain and the unexpected pleasure she incited. She then paused and slowly locked gazes with me, swallowing softly.

"Get to it!" I growled to conceal my embarrassment and helpless reaction, using annoyance as a shield and it coloured my voice, making me sound almost guttural.

"Use that tone one more time, and I swear I'll walk away and leave you here!"

"You wouldn't dare,' I replied, cocking my gun to accentuate my words and raising it to her temple. She swallowed hard and I saw something damning in her eyes, fear and something else - dark and daring and it made my cock pulsate.