She jerked the wheel hard, forcing the car into a sharp swerve. In the rearview mirror she saw three men with their weapons raised at her and shouting into their radios.
She had floored it.
Despite being locked, the gate didn’t stop her. Instead, she pressed harder on the accelerator, bracing for impact. The Audi smashed through, the force crumpling the front, the hood wrenching open. She had made it to the road. At last freedom.
Then came another shot, and the back tire exploded.
The car went out of her control, spinning violently. Leila fought with the wheel, but it was useless. She had been going too fast.
The vehicle slammed sideways into another, a black Rolls-Royce belonging to one of the club-goers.
Everything around her seemed to turn upside-down before everything went black.
Some several miles away, Makros’s men were moving a shipment of firearms through a quiet industrial dock, the containers loaded and ready for transit.
Dragon leaned against a stack of crates, watching as the workers moved with synchronised harmony and effort. Everything was going smoothly.
He checked his watch, exhaling.
The dockmaster, a short, nervous man named Pietro, hesitated. “Everything has been accounted for, sir. We’ve triple-checked.”
Dragon wasn’t yet satisfied.
Then, a beam of headlights caught their attention.
A single black van rolled up to the dock entrance, its tires crunching against the gravel.
“The fuck is this?” Dragon wondered aloud.
The van’s side door slid open, revealing some masked men, their guns drawn at them.
“What the hell–”
The masked men opened rapid gunfire into the shipment crew. Dragon drew his gun, cursing. They had been ambushed.
Dragon ducked behind a crate, barking orders at his men. “Fall back! Do not let them get to the truck!”
The truck carrying the main shipment was already revving its engine, trying to make it out before it was overrun. But one of the attackers hurled a grenade, which blew the truck up as soon as it made contact.
The mysterious van’s door shut, taking off.
Dragon, gritting his teeth, stepped out from behind the crates, emptying some bullets at the spending van. But it caused no real damage to stop it. Makros was going to lose his mind and cut his balls off.
When Leila came, her head pounded like a rock band’s drummer had been rehearsing in it. Her entire body ached from the force of the crash. She blinked against the blur of her vision and tried to push herself up, but rough hands grabbed her, yanking her out of the wreckage.
She barely had time to fight back before something slammed into her temple.
Darkness again.
Chapter Twenty One
A Hefty Price
Makros stood in the faintly illuminated office, his back to the door, fists tight on the edge of his mahogany desk for leverage. He was fuming with uncontrollable rage.
The news had come in bits and pieces.
First, that Leila had attempted an escape. Then, she had injured three of his men. She had also managed to damage two vehicles, one of them belonging to the ambassador. And finally, the shipments of firearms, his deliveries, had been burned to ashes.
