My Most Expensive Date
1044 Words
Chapter Fifteen
The roar of the first shot was still echoing in Viktor’s ears when his instincts took over. A rain of retaliatory bullets followed, shredding the air.
He lunged for Gloria, his arm hooking around her waist as he tackled her behind the heavy mahogany bar. A second later, another round of gunfire tore through the velvet curtains exactly where they had been standing.
"Stay down!" he roared over the deafening symphony of screams and shattering glass.
He felt the hot, stinging bite of a graze along his shoulder, but he shoved the pain into a dark corner of his mind.
"Ethan!" Viktor barked into his earpiece.
"On it, Boss," Ethan’s voice crackled back, the usual humor replaced by a cold, professional edge. "Outside is clear for now, but I hear sirens. They’re about three minutes out."
Viktor glanced down at Gloria. She was tucked into the curve of his body, eyes wide, staring at the splinters of wood flying off the bar as lead continued to chew through the furniture. For once, she was silent. Under any other circumstance, it would have been a relief.
"Tell everyone to evacuate and stall the f*****g police!" Viktor ordered. He turned his focus back to Gloria. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, unable to find her voice.
He nodded, pulled out his handkerchief with a grimace, and pressed it against his shoulder to soak up the blood. He didn't wait for her to recover; he grabbed her hand and hauled her toward the exit.
They burst through the door into the cool night air, sprinting for the alleyway just as a fresh spray of bullets peppered the brickwork behind them.
Suddenly, Viktor skidded to a halt. "I can't leave. I have to make sure my men are out!"
He started to turn back, but the movement faltered. Gloria’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes fixed on his midsection.
"Oh my God... Viktor, you've been shot! You're bleeding!"
Viktor looked down. His black shirt was turning a darker shade of black, the fabric heavy and soaked through at his stomach. He clamped his eyes shut, his knees buckling as he staggered back against the cold brick wall.
He heaved a breath that tasted like copper. "I can't... I can't leave them in there."
"We cannot go back, and we can’t stay here!" Gloria hissed. "All it takes is one of Miguel’s men to turn that corner and put a bullet in both our brains!"
"Then go! Get out of here!" he shouted, the effort causing him to stumble. He slid down the wall, hitting the pavement with a heavy thud.
"Well, fine! f**k it! Bye!" she shouted back, spinning on her heel to run.
She made it exactly five steps before she skidded to a stop. "f**k!"
She let out a frustrated yell and turned back, rushing to his side. She grabbed his arm, hauling his half-limp body upward with a strength born of pure adrenaline.
"I’m not f*****g leaving you here to die!" she swore at him, her shoulder straining under his weight as she dragged him toward the street.
The sirens were screaming closer as a yellow cab rounded the corner, but the driver took one look at the bleeding man and the frantic woman and sped off, wanting no part of the bloodbath.
Gloria stumbled forward, her sense of direction erased by adrenaline. Another cab slowed to a crawl beside them, the driver leaning out with a predatory squint. "Two hundred bucks and I’ll take you to a motel. Pretty sure you don't want a hospital."
"You’re ripping us off?" Gloria yelled back, her voice cracking with disbelief.
"Nothing personal, sweetheart. Just business," the driver grinned, showing a row of yellowed teeth. "But your buddy there won't last long. He’s leaking pretty bad."
Gloria glanced at Viktor. He was half-conscious, his head lolling against her shoulder. She swore under her breath and hauled him toward the door. After a desperate struggle to shove his massive, dead-weight frame into the backseat, she scrambled in after him, slamming the door shut.
"Anywhere in mind?" the driver asked, pulling away from the curb.
"Just a motel," she breathed, her hands shaking as she tried to put pressure on Viktor’s stomach. "Somewhere quiet."
The driver didn’t even blink. Five minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the shadiest motel Gloria had ever seen.
The neon sign flickered with a dying hum. Men loitered near the shadows, smoking in silence, while a few women with greasy hair and tired eyes watched from the corners. Nobody paid them any attention.
Gloria hoisted Viktor out of the car, draping his heavy arm over her shoulder. She lugged him toward the reception office, her muscles screaming under the strain.
"We need a room. Please," Gloria rushed out as a woman in a stained chair swiveled to face her.
The receptionist didn't look surprised; she looked bored. Gloria wondered how many bleeding men had stumbled through that door tonight. The woman chewed her gum with a rhythmic, wet smack as she typed into a rickety computer that looked like a relic from the eighties.
She slapped a plastic room key on the counter. "That’s twenty."
Gloria fumbled for a twenty-dollar bill and shoved it across.
"Do you have... you know... bandages? Medicine?"
The woman’s grin turned sharp. She disappeared into the back room for a few minutes and returned with a small plastic basket. It was stocked with painkillers, rolls of gauze, cotton dabs, antiseptic, and antibiotics. Gloria stared at it, this wasn't a motel; it was an unlicensed pharmacy.
"That’ll be a hundred and fifty," the woman said, her eyes glinting.
"A hundred and fifty? Are you kidding me?" Gloria’s jaw dropped.
"I ain't got time for your s**t. You buying or not?" The woman c****d an eyebrow, her hand hovering over the basket to take it back.
Gloria let out a ragged sigh, realizing she was trapped. She pulled out the last of her cash, slapped it onto the counter with a bitter sting, and snatched the basket and the keys.
"Fine," she hissed, turning back to the half-limp man waiting by the door. "Let's go, Viktor. You're officially the most expensive date I've ever had."
- Writer
