Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I wonder how lucky I can be?
Crouching down to the ground again, I start shooting under the cars as fast as my Glock can go, emptying the clip in its entirety.
I must have hit someone with the last couple of shots because a man’s high-pitched bellow floats in the empty air around us.
Moving quickly to the side of their car, I stay below the window line, my hands dropping the empty mag and slapping a fresh one back in.
“Are you all dead?” I shout out to the them as I keep moving. “Or mostly dead?”
“Fuck you!” comes from behind the car in a heavily accented groan.
Hmm, definitely Russians.
Taking a peek into the car, I spot a dead driver with three bullet holes in the chest.
One left questionably alive then.
“How bad are you hurt, comrade?” I shout to him.
“Alive enough to kill you, fucking pindo,” the man snarls in his heavily accented English back at me.
“Well, well, I haven’t been called a pindo in a while,” I laugh at him.
“Do you smoke?” he asks then starts firing his pistol two feet to the left of me.
“It’s a filthy habit,” I say, “but no, I quit three years ago.”
“Blyad,” he growls, this time shooting the gun near my feet.
He’s behind the tire, directly opposite of the one I’m hiding behind, and I have a feeling he knows it.
Risking far too much in my estimation, I stupidly squat even further down and look at where he’s hiding.
Well, he’s not so much hiding as he is sitting, legs splayed out in front of him. Blood is pooling around his ass, and from the looks of it, it’s a lot of blood.
Standing up from my squat, I slowly push myself on top of the BMW’s roof.
“Vladdy, Vladdy, is all bloody, bloody,” I singsong to him. “Vladdy is going to die.”
Fuck, if I could stop feeling the slightest bit of the arousal I feel knowing the kill is coming to a head, I’d probably be less inclined to not torment this pathetic fuck.
“It’s pronounced Vlad, you stupid fucking American. Not Vloody,” he screams out at me, his gun firing all over the place.
Silently slithering my body across the roof of the car, I slowly lower my gun until the tip of the pistol rests on top of his sweaty mass of long hair.
“I don’t give a fuck how it’s pronounced, Vlad,” I say and cock back the hammer with my thumb. “But you speak with any tone that borders on disrespectful to me again and I’ll blow your brains through your spine.”
My gun begins to shake ever so slightly as his body tries to turn into Jello.
Shit and piss fill my nostrils, taking over the arousing copper smell that was filling the air.
Fuck, he won’t be lasting long.
“Got any feeling in your legs?” I ask him as I stare over the roof of the car. Stare and look curiously at the hole right below his lungs in the middle of his stomach.
“Nyet,” he answers. “You got me with a lucky shot.”
“When you were in or out of the car?” I ask.
“Getting…” He growls then finishes. “Out.”
“Tough luck,” I say. “Who sent you?”
He lifts his gun and chuckles. “Bez shansov, pindo.”
I’m about to squeeze my trigger when he pushes his own barrel below his chin and fires.
Thankfully, I pulled my gun away in time before a bullet rips though his skull then hisses off into the sky.
“Fuck!” I scream up into the blue sky as I roll onto my back.
First, I was interrupted with my wife, then I totaled my car, and now, of all things, that fucking bastard didn’t even let me torture or kill him.
I’ve been cockblocked all fucking day so far.
My balls ache with the need to release.
Searching in my pocket for my phone, I pull it out of my mangled suit jacket and go through the contacts. If I hadn’t stolen Eden’s phone, I could call her and hear that sultry voice.
A voice I can’t wait to hear moan and quiver with need.
Instead, I push the one button that makes my spine want to cringe.
“Status?” Simon spits at me. “I see there was yet another collision.”
“They’re all dead,” I snap right back at him.
“You couldn’t leave at least one alive for questioning?” he asks incredulously.
“Not really,” I sigh. “Took one out on the way out of my car. The second must have been stunned from the impact of the collision and died to a couple of rounds through his chest. The last I had hope for, but he was bleeding out too fast. When I tried questioning him, he took his own life.”
“How? Why didn’t you disarm him first, you moronic…” Simon snaps before I hear a quiet clearing of a different voice.
“Perhaps,” Lucifer says in a placid manner, “we should hear him out.”