Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,75

heard, and us delaying isn’t wise. But walking into an ambush isn’t something I want either.

I open the door and lean out into the stairwell. I don’t hear or see anything and move through. Emma grips the back of my jacket, and I start to climb, keeping my focus on what’s above us and below us.

I push Emma to the wall as a bullet bounces off the railing, just missing my fucking hand. I return two rounds and hear footsteps racing.

I grab Emma’s hand and start to climb fast. I stop when we are close to the top and lean out, firing one shot ahead of us. No one moves; there is nothing at all.

“Let’s go.” I grip Emma’s hand and clear the rest of the stairs. I open the door slightly and fire off a shot. Nothing is returned, and I walk out slowly. The area is clear. Whoever fired is gone.

I keep the gun at my side and take Emma’s hand in mine as we walk up the ramp and out onto the road. I keep the gun in my hand but push it into my jacket as we jog across the road. I’m watching from every corner, waiting for someone to come at us. No one does. I unlock the car and release Emma’s hand. She scurries around and jumps in. The moment I pull away from the curb, I glance at the building, but I don’t see anyone.

I don’t relax until we are a few miles away. Emma hasn’t spoken a word, and I don’t need to ask her if she’s okay. Her face is too fucking pale. I know she’s alive from the rise and fall of her chest.

Leaving the North would be wise after what I did. Whoever owned the territory would find Amanda dead and know they had been compromised.

I could only pray that whatever footage was on the tape led me right to them before they found me.

I drive back to my apartment. It’s a stark reminder that I’m not safe anywhere, and neither is Emma.

“I’ll get someone to bring the bags up,” I say.

She blinks at me before getting out.

“Emma. Say something” I hate how frightened she looks.

“She shot at you?” She asks, and I don’t want to have this conversation outside.

“Yes.”

I could see how she was trying to justify what I did. But Emma wasn’t stupid; she had to know that even if Amanda hadn’t fired at me, I was still going to kill her.

“Self-defense,” Emma mumbles.

I take her hand and continue back to the apartment.

Two security people meet us on the first floor.

“I’ve bags in the car; bring them up.” These aren’t my men, but when I fire my keys at one, he grabs them and leaves.

“You had no choice.” Emma rambles on as we take the stairs the rest of the way. We could always take the elevator, but I didn’t want any chance of bumping into Lucian.

Once we enter the apartment, I lock the door, and Emma stops walking and looks up at me.

“You would have killed her, anyway.” It’s a statement. I could tell her that it was self-defense, that otherwise, I wouldn’t have really killed Amanda. I could allow her to believe that I was the good guy with morals who didn’t shoot a woman in the head.

But that wasn’t me. “Yes.”

Emma scratches her neck, leaving a trail of marks behind. Her tongue is pressed against her teeth as she continues to scratch. I hate seeing her in such turmoil. I walk to her and take her hand in mine, stopping her from ripping her skin.

“Emma, love.”

She pulls away from me. “You had a choice.” Her words are loud, but the knock on the door is louder.

I don’t answer her and remove my gun from my jeans before opening the door. I open it fully and allow the security man into the hallway. “Leave them there.” He does and leaves.

I relock the door before turning to Emma, who is no longer in the hall. I don’t want to chase her and comfort her. My words won’t help, so instead, I take all her shopping bags to the bedroom and leave them on the bed.

I strip off my jacket and make my way to the main living space.

I pause when Emma spins; her eyes are red from crying. “I don’t think I can be with someone who takes a life so easily.”

I continue my advance on the bar and pour out a drink. “It’s a bit