Mafia Boss’s Arranged Bride by Bella King

Chapter 29

Nikolai

There’s a unique thrill that comes with racing down a narrow road at a hundred miles per hour when you know the driver has no idea how to handle those speeds. I’d be concerned about crashing, but the adrenaline has taken over my senses, and I feel more empowered than afraid. Either we get out of this in one piece, or we go down shooting. Either way, it cracks the boredom of being locked up right down the center.

“Skip the police station,” I say even as we zoom past it.

“No, fucking duh,” she yells over the sound of the screaming engine. That thing isn’t going to last long at these speeds.

I look over my shoulder at the white and blue police car racing down the street behind us. With every bump, they take flight, only to come bouncing down on their admittedly superior suspension system. James’ sedan can’t take much more of this before it falls to pieces.

“Keep it going,” I say. “You’re doing fine.”

“Nikolai, can you shut up and focus on shooting the bastard?” she yells back at me.

I’m surprised by her sudden jump to violence, but I’m not opposed to it. I’ve riddled plenty of cop cars with holes in my time on this dreadful planet. This one isn’t my first, and it certainly won’t be my last. The police should know better than to fuck with the goddamn mafia.

The window switch greets me with a disappointing shudder, but the window only drops down an inch. “Great,” I mutter, sticking my fingers through the crack and forcing it down the rest of the way. James should really buy a better car.

The police car is trailing us at concerning proximity, lights flashing and siren blaring like we didn’t already know the asshole was back there. He probably doesn’t see much action around these parts. It’s a mostly abandoned area, so this might even be his first real chase. It would explain why he’s just as eager as Annika is to drive fast enough to be rendered dead on impact should we collide with another vehicle.

Or a tree. There are tons of them whizzing by so fast that the only way I know what kind they are is from the smell of pine in the air.

I stick my gun out the window, keeping both hands on it so that the wind doesn’t pick it up and launch it at the police car’s windshield. That’d be one way to take them out, but I prefer to bet on bullets instead.

The gun pops in my hand, the recoil fighting against the cold, damp wind as I unload everything I have into the windshield of the police car. It jerks back quickly, and for a moment, I think I’ve hit someone, but it comes back just as fast, and the cop returns fire.

“Keep your head down,” I yell at Annika as a bullet pierces the rear window and lodges itself in the dashboard. Splinters of plastic fly out onto my lap, but I’m thankful it wasn’t either of us that was hit. I can buy James a new car, but I can’t get a new Annika.

I drop the half-empty magazine and load in a new one, leaning back out of the window and following up my initial attack with another one with more sustained shooting. I want the cop to know that I mean business. I’d rather die than end up in the back of his car today.

Annika swerves the car, throwing me off balance for a moment as we narrowly avoid a massive pothole in the asphalt. The police car isn’t so fortunate, having no warning, and the front of the car dips down too low in the hole, catching the bumping and tearing it off.

This sends the vehicle spinning out in the road, quickly losing traction and sliding across the pale, worn road. Thick black rubber skid marks curve out toward the edge of the road, and the car slams into a tree sideways, crumpling like an aluminum can.

Our car slows as Annika instinctually lets her foot off the gas. She doesn’t break until I tell her to, but I hear an audible sigh of relief when I say to stop.

“If he’s not dead, he’s going to be,” I say as she pulls over.

“What? I thought we were going to get out of here. What if someone sees us?” she blurts, worry burning in her throat like wildfire. This is probably the first time she’s done something this illegal, despite living her entire life surrounded by the mafia.

She’s sheltered, but I’m not, and I intend to finish what I started.

Crush the enemy completely, and leave nothing behind but a warning to those who attempt to follow in his footsteps. That’s what I’ve learned, and that’s what I’m going to do.

I step out of the car, bits of the tattered side of the road crunching underneath my leather shoes as I take a few steps away from the car. Annika jumps out after me, eager to join me, but I want her to stay behind. This isn’t good for her to see.

“Stay in the car,” I order, pulling the slide back on the pistol to load a bullet into the chamber. “I’ll make this quick.”

“I want to come,” she says, quickly rounding the car and stepping in front of me. “We’re in this shit together now,”

I smirk, looking at her bold face and starry eyes. She’s enamored by the fast life, probably getting more fulfillment from this past ten minutes than she has in her entire life. I envy that fresh attitude toward danger, that willingness to throw oneself directly into the fire and experience the hot lick of flames and the coals beneath your feet.

“Alright,” I say. “But don’t get in the way.”

She stays by my side as I make my steps quick, walking together toward the smoking vehicle wrapped around the base of a thick pine tree. The tree seems almost undamaged, but the car is so far gone that I doubt whoever’s inside is still alive.

I have to make sure, though. I don’t leave witnesses behind.

A fresh cold drop of rain hits the back of my neck as I approach the police car. It’s going to rain, and around here, when it rains, it comes down so hard that it tears street signs out of the ground and flings them into traffic. I can already feel the wind picking up, bringing with it the icy promise of a storm.

The lights on the police car aren’t flashing anymore, but I can see red from the window. It’s only when I point my gun at the figure inside that it moves enough for me to see the driver’s face.

“Fuck,” I grumble, lowering my gun and coming up to the window.

“What?” Annika’s voice is soft but pressing.

“We have our guy,” I say as I flip the gun around in my hand and lift it toward the window. “It’s Corey.”