With more enemies lining up to kill him than he can count, a playboy billionaire must hire the only woman capable of keeping him alive, even if she hates his guts.
Gabriel Gerard's life is full of gorgeous women, expensive cars, and infinite wealth...
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Gabriel slid his hand under the seats. He'd stored a few handguns under them when it was his car, but Asher must have found and removed them. The driver also had a forty-five up in the glove compartment, but he was lying unconscious on the steering wheel. The airbags had deployed, and the car was filled with the smell of the acrid factory powder. The gunshots continued outside, every now and then hitting the car. Gabriel thanked God that the vehicle was bulletproof. He crawled on his stomach towards the front of the limousine. He had to get to his only chance at defense hidden in the glove compartment.
The driver's side door suddenly swung open, and the driver's body was pulled from his seat. All Gabriel saw was the barrel of a gun before he retreated back into the depths of the car. He grabbed a bottle of bourbon and stuffed his handkerchief into it. Hands shaking, he lit the fabric and waited for what seemed like hours before the blaze almost reached the liquid. He threw the bottle into the front seat, and it burst into flames on impact. He heard someone shout as fire and smoke filled the vehicle.
Gabriel escaped through the back door. He didn't recognize what part of the city he was in because it all looked so similar these days. Whispering a protection spell, he ran into an alley. The day was overcast but not raining, and there were no shadows in which to hide. He was never traveling without a gun on his person again. Or his sword. He heard the footsteps of his attacker behind him. He continued running between rows and rows of squat, defensible cement buildings. He knew that he had to be somewhere between GIG and his apartment building, but nothing looked familiar. He didn't know how long he could outrun his assailant. His lungs were burning from the cold air, and his legs already ached. He hadn't kept up his treadmill schedule since all this craziness had started.
Finally finding somewhere to hide, he ducked into a building still under construction. He replaced the plywood covering the door and tried to get to a window to see his attacker pass. Everything but the door had been boarded up tightly. He could hear the footsteps outside pounding closer and passing as he climbed the stairs to an open second-story window. Reaching the back of the building, he heard tires screech as he stuck his head out the window. A huge, black SUV had pulled up at the end of the alley to pick up his assailant. The door slammed closed before he could get a look at who was trying to kill him. He pounded the wall in frustration and felt the slivers of new wood penetrate his hand. He watched the truck with pitch-dark windows pull away. It looked like a government vehicle. He stared at the license plate. He was right. Department of Homeland Security.
Gabriel collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. He was really getting tired of this. Sirens in the distance drew closer, and he knew that he had to go back to his car and see if the driver was all right. He stood up on adrenaline-spent shaky legs and made his way out of the building and back to the scene of the accident. Police, firefighters, and paramedics were already there, swarming the vehicle. The fire was out, but the entire front half of the car was the matte-black char from an extremely hot blaze. There was glass showered over the front of the limousine and the pavement. The hood was rolled-up from the impact of whatever the car had hit. Judging from the amount of glass and chunks of red plastic brake light covers, it was another vehicle. But other than a couple of still-warm tire tracks, there was nothing there.
