Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,83

eating up the distance between us.

I’d recognize the shape of the rider anywhere.

I smile. Can’t help it. These assholes don’t know what’s coming for them.

“He’ll kill you,” I say, my voice calm.

The guy sitting next to me backhands me. “Shut the fuck up!” he growls in my ear, his breath burning my skin.

I shudder. My head starts spinning again, and I feel nauseous, my eyes unable to focus. The corner of my mouth stings, blood staining my finger when I touch it.

“In there,” Hoz says, pointing at a turn ahead of us. “Turn here. It’s a dirt road. It’ll slow him down.”

The car veers into the turn, jostling me into the guy next to me. He pushes me off, slamming me into the side of the car. Pain pierces both my shoulder and my head, but I grind my teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of a yelp.

“Do you even have a plan?” I ask, making my voice sound nonchalant.

Hoz turns, pointing a gun at me. “How about a bullet between your eyebrows?”

I cock an eyebrow at him with more confidence than I feel. “But that’s not what you want, is it? You need me alive. So that you can blackmail my father to support your pathetic little campaign.”

Hoz grinds his teeth together, his dark eyes growing colder. “Keep talking. See how much patience I’ve got for dipshits like you.”

I give him a wide smile, managing not to wince at the sting in the corner of my mouth.

An engine roars behind us, and then the bike’s next to us, then in front of the car. It happens too fast for anyone to react.

“Shit!” the driver exclaims, turning the wheel, the car veering off the road and coming to a halt. “Crazy motherfucker!”

I hear the roar of an engine, then see a flash of leather jacket and black helmet. Too fast for me to react, the car door swings open, and I topple out, kicking at the guy trying to grab my feet. I catch him in the jaw, my foot connecting with a satisfying crack.

A gunshot explodes nearby. I dive down, hands instinctively coming up to protect my head. Two more gunshots. A grunt. And then another gunshot. Screams and muffled cries echo in the sudden silence.

I peek from the side of the car, gaze falling on Alec, who stands, gun in hand, back toward me.

“Alec!” I yell.

As if coming out of a trance, he turns toward me, taking the few feet between us in two long strides. He falls to his knees in front of me, hands roaming my body, checking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” His voice is strained, his movements even more so.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” His thumb smooths over the corner of my mouth. I wince. “Fuckers.” He says the words calmly, quietly, but there’s pure venom dripping from them.

The sound of more engines approaching makes me turn around. Two SUVs are speeding toward us, kicking up dirt behind them.

Wide-eyed, I turn to Alec. “There’s more of them?”

Alec shakes his head, pulling me into his arms. “No. This is my backup. It’s over.”

I glance over his shoulder and see the three men lying in the dirt, clutching at the bullet wounds Alec had put in them, their guns discarded and kicked off in the distance. Hoz’s dark eyes bore into me, full of hatred as he clutches his leg, blood pooling underneath his body.

I close my eyes and hug Alec tighter.

Chapter thirty-one

The cops take us to the police station for questioning. Alec warns me not to say anything before my lawyer arrives. The police know about the death threats and about the latest emails that were received right before the attack. There’s enough traffic camera footage and eyewitnesses for them to piece everything together.

Once the lawyers arrive, both Alec and I are released pretty quickly, but warned not to leave town until the investigation is complete.

“Are you all right?” Alec asks as we descend the stairs and walk out on the street. “You look a little pale.”

I cast a nervous look behind me. “Something’s off.”

Alec nods. “I got that feeling too.”

“Why didn’t the police come sooner? Someone must have called them when the SUV ran that car off the road or when you shot at their tires. Doesn’t make any sense.” I stick my hands in my jeans pockets, and quicken my pace. “I got a really weird vibe from the cops who were interviewing me. If Hoz was radicalized, what if some of