Chapter 5 - THE SAFEHOUSE
It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was hot, desperate, and taste of metallic blood and cold rain.
A jolt of electric shock seemed to pass between us. Nicholas’s body went rigid for a fraction of a second, his hands flying up to grip my waist, pulling me tighter against his chest as if he were drowning and I was his only air.
When I pulled back, breathing heavily, his eyes were wide, dark, and lethal again. His pulse under my fingers had stabilized into a strong, furious rhythm.
"Effective," Nicholas whispered, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb gently brushed a drop of wet hair from my cheek. "Very effective, Nurse Jenkins."
"Shut up," I breathed, my face burning despite the freezing cold basement air. "They’re at the bottom of the stairs."
Nicholas’s expression instantly turned to steel. He raised his 9mm, aiming it precisely at the junction of a massive steam pipe running directly above the stairwell exit.
The moment two armed men stepped through the steel doors into the basement, Nicholas pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet shattered the heavy iron valve of the pipe. High-pressure, scalding steam erupted from the burst pipe with a deafening roar, blinding the guards and filling the stairwell with a wall of boiling vapor. The men screamed, stumbling backward into the stairwell to escape the scalding heat.
"Go!" Nicholas barked.
He hauled himself up, grabbing my hand, and we sprinted through the maze of industrial laundry machines toward the loading dock exit. He kicked open the crash bar of the rear steel door, and we burst out into the pouring rain of the alleyway.
Parked near the dumpster was a black, unmarked SUV—its engine idling, its rain-slick windows completely blacked out.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. "Is that... Marco’s men?"
The driver’s side window rolled down. A tall man with a scarred jaw and silver hair leaned out, holding an umbrella. He looked at Nicholas, then at me, then nodded respectfully.
"You're late, Boss," the silver-haired man said in a deep, gravelly voice.
Nicholas let out a long breath, lowering his weapon. "Traffic was terrible, Viktor. Get us out of here."
We scrambled into the back seat of the SUV. The moment the doors slammed shut, Viktor slammed his foot on the accelerator, sending the vehicle roaring out of the alley and into the slick, neon-lit streets of downtown Chicago.
I collapsed into the soft leather seat, my whole body shaking violently from the adrenaline rush. Rain lashed against the dark windows as the skyline of Chicago blurred past us in a haze of yellow and red streetlights.
"Who is he?" I whispered, staring at Viktor in the rearview mirror.
"Viktor is my head of security," Nicholas said, leaning back against the headboard, a hand pressed tightly against his bandaged side where fresh blood was seeping through the hospital gown. "The real head of security. The one who wasn't bought by the syndicate."
"You knew?" I turned to Nicholas, outrage flushing through my veins. "You knew you had a rescue driver waiting down there the whole time?!"
"I knew Viktor would be there if I could reach the basement," Nicholas admitted, turning his gaze to me. "What I didn't know was whether I would have the strength to stand up. Or whether I would have a nurse brave enough to pull off a fake cardiac arrest."
He reached out, his long, warm fingers wrapping around my cold hand. I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, unyielding, yet surprisingly gentle.
"You saved my life tonight, Clara," he said softly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breathing catch. "I don't forget debts."
"I don't want a debt," I whispered, pulling my hand back slowly. "I want my life back. I want my debt paid off, and I want to go somewhere far away from Chicago, where men in suits don't shoot at me with silencers."
Nicholas stayed silent for a long moment, staring out the window at the passing city lights.
"We go to the safehouse in Lake Forest first," Nicholas said to Viktor, ignoring my demand. "Clear the medical kit. Clara needs to stitch my side before I bleed out on your leather seats."
"Understood, Boss," Viktor replied, adjusting his rearview mirror. "And what about the syndicate? Vincent called an emergency council meeting for tomorrow night at the Drake Hotel. He’s planning to announce your death and claim full leadership of the Outfit."
May you like
Nicholas’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening into twin pools of midnight ice.
"Let him call the council," Nicholas said, his voice laced with venom. "Let him invite every family boss in the Midwest. Because tomorrow night... I'm going to attend my own funeral."
