Chapter 5 - Line of Fire
The retaliation was swift. The Russian Bratva struck back the following week, targeting a warehouse where Dawson and Sienna were inspecting a new high-end security shipment.
Automatic gunfire shattered the quiet afternoon.
"Down!" Dawson yelled, tackling Sienna to the floor as bullets tore through the drywall above them.
They were trapped in a narrow back office. Outside, the sounds of shouting and gunfire grew closer. Dawson’s men were fighting, but they were outnumbered.
"Sienna, look at me," Dawson commanded, kneeling in front of her. A stray piece of glass had cut his cheek, and a thin line of blood ran down his jaw. "I have three rounds left in my primary mag. There is a secondary exit behind that metal crate. When I start shooting, you run. You don't look back."
"No," Sienna said, her voice fiercely stubborn despite her terror. "I'm not leaving you."
"This isn't a debate!" he roared over the sound of an exploding flashbang.
"I don't care!" She grabbed his jacket, pulling him down. "You told me I was your supervisor, Dawson. So listen to me. We go together, or we die together."
Dawson stared at her, a strange, beautiful smile breaking through his grim facade. "You really are out of your mind, Ice Queen."
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With a synchronized burst of movement, Dawson fired blindly through the doorway, clearing a path. He grabbed Sienna’s hand, his grip unyielding, and pulled her through the smoky chaos. They sprinted toward the rear exit just as a grenade detonated in the front lobby. The blast threw them forward onto the alley concrete, but they were alive.
Dawson shielded her body with his own, taking the brunt of the falling debris. When the dust settled, he looked down at her, their faces inches apart. The danger was still real, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the heat between them. Dawson leaned down and kissed her—a fierce, desperate, possessive kiss that tasted of copper and rain.
