Nate

I turned to the handful of men who crowded into the hall, word already spreading through the house. “Get out there and find him. Now.” The bite in my voice could have snapped a diamond in half. “He’s in a tree to the Northwest. Probably high-tailing it to his car right now.”

George pulled out a radio and began relaying my instructions to the men at the gate.

“He’s only 100 to 150 yards away, but the motherfucker has a fifty cal and he knows how to use it. Go!”

The men scattered, with Peter rushing out with them. David stayed at my side. Protocol. Whenever shit went down, at least one of the Raven brothers served as my personal bodyguard. But that was about to change.

“Sabrina, baby.” I smoothed the hair off her ashen face.

“You could have died.” Her eyes watered. “You almost died.”

“I’m alive. Don’t worry.” I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her. What if that bullet had hit a foot lower? Had hit Sabrina? I swallowed hard, resolve solidifying in my gut. “I need you to go to your room with David and lock the door until you get the all clear, all right?”

“Where are you going?”

To find the asshole who tried to take me out and gut him. “I’m going to help secure the place, okay?”

“Please don’t go.” She grabbed my hand.

“I have to. But David will stay with you.”

David’s thick eyebrows lowered. He wanted to protest and stick with me, but he was a good soldier. He’d do what I said.

“Trust me.” I kissed her on the crown of her head.

“I do. I always will.” Her chin trembled. “Promise me you’ll come back.” She was a woman, one with more strength than I ever imagined. But in that moment, she reminded me of the lost little girl who’d stolen my heart. And I vowed again to protect her for as long as I drew breath.

I cupped her face in my hands. “I’ll come back.” I kissed her, far longer than I had time for, but Sabrina was worth every second.

Breaking the kiss hurt me on some gut level, but I needed to make an example of the man who put her life in danger. One that the Russians would never forget.

“David.” I nodded at him. “You know what to do.”

“I’ll protect her with my life.”

“Stay in the room. Don’t trust anyone. Someone locked the door while we were outside. Someone knew about the shooter.” I glanced at George who had his phone up to his ear and was giving rapid instructions. “When I find the rat, I intend to roast him slowly.”

David grunted in approval.

Turning back to Sabrina, the worry in her eyes for me, the sheer depth of emotion that she showed with her whole heart, moved me to tell her the truth—to tell her I’d fallen for her. But I couldn’t. She didn’t deserve the weight that the love of a man like me carried. Who was I to love anyone? A selfish asshole who wasted half his life drinking, whoring, and working for whatever boss would have me. My love would only bury her slowly until she suffocated under the pressure of all my mistakes, each flaw another shovelful of dirt on top of her.

I kept my mouth shut and strode away, never looking back despite the crushing need to do just that.

“Take off the hood.” I flipped open my lighter and raked my thumb over the wheel to light it up. The orange flared in the darkness of the basement. We’d caught him about two miles away from his shooting spot, speeding like the devil was after him. And I was.

He’d killed the retired couple who lived two streets over and used one of their oak trees as his perch. They’d been dead for a couple of days, their bodies left in the kitchen where it appeared they’d been sitting down to breakfast. Unchecked fury lit my veins at the sheer butchery of it, but more so at how the shooter had been sighting down his barrel at Sabrina, waiting for his chance to take a shot at me.

David’s heavy steps on the stairs reassured me that the house was all clear—all except for the piece of shit in the basement. Sabrina was safe, and now it was time for payback.

The bulb overhead flickered on, and Peter yanked the shooter’s hood away to reveal a battered and bloody face. He could have been anywhere from forty to sixty, judging from the gray hair and the busted cheek bones, but I recognized his eyes.

“Karilev, isn’t that right?” I spat on the blood-stained floor and flipped my lighter shut, plunging us into darkness. Scuffling sounds behind me told me my men were getting set up. Low light shone from a laptop on the table at my back.