Chapter 6 - The Sound of a Kicked Door
The shockwave knocked the gunman off his balance.
The deafening roar of a modified diesel engine tore through the rafters.
Dust billowed like a thick gray curtain.
Through the blinding cloud, headlights cut through the gloom.
Two piercing white beams.
The truck door kicked open.
Roman Calder stepped out.
He wore no coat.
His white dress shirt was smeared with dirt and engine grease.
In his right hand, he held a black tactical shotgun.
His face looked like it was carved out of granite.
"Roman!" Evelyn screamed, stumbling back behind her men.
Her pristine composure vanished in a fraction of a second.
The two hired thugs panicked.
The tall one raised his silenced pistol toward Roman.
He never got to pull the trigger.
BOOM.
Roman fired without breaking his stride.
The heavy buckshot blasted the concrete at the thug's feet, showering his legs
with flying rock.
The man shrieked and collapsed, clutching his bleeding shins.
The second guard dropped his weapon and threw his hands into the air.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
Roman didn't even look at him.
He walked straight past the trembling man.
His eyes were locked entirely on me.
He saw the nylon cords cutting into my raw wrists.
He saw the dried blood caked into my hairline.
He saw the purple bruises across my cheeks.
The muscles in his neck swelled with rage.
I had never seen a human being look so terrifying.
He reached me in three long strides.
He dropped the shotgun to the floor.
It hit the concrete with a heavy clatter.
He dropped to his knees right in front of me, ignoring the damp mud and broken
glass.
"Nora," he breathed.
His voice was shaking.
The billionaire who owned half of the state's docks had trembling hands.
He pulled a tactical blade from his belt.
With two swift, precise cuts, he sliced through the nylon ropes.
My deadened arms fell limp.
My body tipped forward, completely spent.
I expected to hit the freezing floor.
Instead, I hit Roman's chest.
His arms wrapped around me like steel bands.
He pulled me against him so hard I could feel the violent hammer of his
heartbeat against my cheek.
"I have you," he whispered harshly into my hair.
"You're safe. I have you."
Warm tears spilled over my eyelids.
I couldn't move my fingers.
I could only lean my bruised face into the hollow of his neck.
He smelled of rain, gunpowder, and cedar.
"Roman, darling, listen to me!" Evelyn’s voice shrilled from across the room.
She was trembling, backing toward the side exit.
"She was stealing from you! We caught her trying to flee to the harbor with
payroll money!"
Roman didn't release me.
He slowly turned his head toward his fiancée.
His eyes were so cold they could have frozen gasoline.
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"Shut your mouth, Evelyn," he said.
The words were soft, but they carried the weight of an execution sentence.
