Cash Remington and the Missing Heiress (Sexy Dreadfuls Book 1) Read Online Free

night.
    I climb to my feet and pull Collette up with me, her long brown hair blowing in the cool breeze. “This way.”
    We hurry across the roof as more yells ring out below us. Several of the cars are already gone from the driveway, but the one I want is still there waiting for us. I drop down to a lower roof, ignoring the burn in my calf, then catch her as she follows.
    One more short drop to the ground and we’re running across the sand at the side of the palace. We round the corner toward the front gate and stop. Fifteen men are lined up, guns at the ready.
    “Back!” I yank Collette against the palace wall as the guards open fire.
    We are pinned down, but can’t stay that way. I reach into my coat pocket and grab the last of my flashbangs.
    “Stay here. I’ll be back for you. Close your eyes.”
    Collette gapes at me. “Don’t leave me.”
    “I have to, but I’ll come get you in,”—I glance at my watch—“no more than twenty-six seconds. Can you count to twenty-six for me?”
    She nods. “Yes.”
    “Good. Close your eyes. When you hear the explosion, start counting.”
    “Explosion?” She grips my jacket.
    “Close them.”
    I shake the flashbang and toss it around the wall. She closes her eyes. After the bright flash and the boom, I jet from our hiding spot.
    “One-Mississippi—”
    Three shots and the closest three men hit the sand, blood gushing from their heads. I tag four more, torso shots, as I dart to the nearest date tree and crouch behind it. Bullets eat away at the bark as the guards regroup and unload their automatic weapons. I change out my magazine, fifteen fresh bullets ready to go. But it’s my last clip.
    Nudging the muzzle of my gun around the tree trunk, I fire blindly and smile when I hear at least two of the men let out pained groans. I’ve spent ten of my fifteen bullets, but there are at least six men left. Fuck.
    A few more shots whiz past. I gasp and groan, letting my right foot slide out next to the tree as if I’ve fallen over. Sand kicks up around it as the assholes try to shoot me. They miss. After a few more errant shots, they quiet and begin arguing amongst themselves, trying to decide which one will come to see if I’m dead.
    I don’t give them the chance. Surging from behind the tree, I pop two in the head, two others in the torso, and run at the two left standing. I squeeze the trigger, but my gun jams. One of them fires, a bullet clipping my arm right before I barrel into him and knock him back into the sand. As I dive on top of him, I kick my leg out and knock the other guard off his feet.
    One good punch to the throat and the first guard’s windpipe collapses. The second guard tries to shoot me, but I grab his barrel, burning my hand, and shove the hot metal onto his face. He screams as his flesh singes. I rip the Kalashnikov from his hands and use the butt to crush his skull. His screams stop, and I rush back to where Collette is hiding.
    “—ty-five, twenty-six.” She opens her eyes.
    I smile down at her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I lead Collette through the mass of bodies and down the cobblestone driveway toward the McLaren. She’s barefoot and moving too slowly, so I scoop her into my arms and carry her the rest of the way. My left leg stings like a bitch, but I can’t let up now. I have her, finally, and nothing is going to take her away from me.
    I drop her into the passenger seat. More guards rush down the stairs of the palace and fire at us. The back window bursts as I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key. The engine roars to life, and I punch the clutch, ignoring the pain in my leg. We rip out of the front gate and onto the lane leading through the town market. Squat buildings and carts along the roadside blur past.
    Before I get too far away, I dig in my jacket pocket and depress a button. A deep boom rushes through the night, and an orange fireball blooms behind us. Collette