"Let's finish this," I yell to my men as I push forward.
A lucky fucker's bullet clips my bicep, but that's where his
luck ends as Viktor takes him out.
The three vehicles are shot up, and when I kill the last
man, I shout, "Move, move, move!"
Between the mafia and bratva, we have half the law
enforcement in our pockets, but that doesn't mean we stick around after killing a group of Albanians.
Viktor and I jump back into the G-Wagon, and I floor the the tires screeching. gas,
"Straight ahead. Turn off is in four miles," Viktor says as he quickly tucks the weapons back into the duffle bag.
With one hand on the steering wheel, I peel the armored
vest off and give it to Viktor.
Suddenly he snaps, "Fuck, you're bleeding. Pull over."
"You know I can't," I mutter. I take the off ramp and turn down random roads until even I'm lost. Bringing the vehicle to a stop, Viktor and I dart out and quickly place the duffle bag in the hidden compartment.
Viktor reaches for my arm, which has me snapping, "I'm fine. My jacket will cover the blood." I shrug it on, finally feeling the bite from the bullet digging into the muscle of my bicep
Definitely more than a flesh wound.
"I'm driving," Viktor says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Once we're back in the G-Wagon, he asks, "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, it's just a flesh wound." I lie so he won't worry. "Let's head back."
We have to take a longer route home because we shut down the interstate, and traffic will be backed up for miles. By the time we reach the office, my arm is burning something fierce.
"I'm going to head home," I say when we climb out of the vehicle.