Her Covert Protector (Rogue Protectors Book 4)
Her Covert Protector: Chapter 25

Two successive gunshots exploded from the top floors just as John cleared the first step of the staircase.

Two patrol officers were following him, but he was way ahead as he climbed the steps two at a time.

“Nadia’s in trouble.” John had Levi on the phone. “Need you back here.”

“I shouldn’t have left her,” Levi groaned in remorse.

“Stop dwelling,” John said. “Get Bristow and Roarke. All hands-on deck. Now.”

He rounded the stairwell to Nadia’s apartment door. It was wide open. A young officer was sitting against the wall, radioing for help.

But what he saw defied all reason.

A man in black was slowly slipping to the floor, the sword that affixed him to the wall through his chest succumbing to gravity.

His fucking heart lodged in his throat.

“Nadia!” John roared.

He skidded into the kitchen.

Blood.

So much blood. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

But Nadia was alive, her hands drenched in bright red as she tried to stop the bleeding from Dugal’s chest. Off to the side, Stephen sat against the center island, pale as death, holding a kitchen towel to his shoulder. At his feet, another man in black had his arm partly shorn off, swimming in a pool of blood.

“I can’t stop the bleeding,” Nadia choked, summoning John’s attention now that he’d assessed the situation. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smudging black makeup into the white paint on her face.

“I’ve got it,” John spoke calmly, taking over the towel she’d been using to hold pressure to the wound. “Ambulance is on the way.” He nodded to her father. “Stay with Stephen.”

Dugal’s lids were fluttering. His mouth moved.

“You foolish old Scot,” John said. “What did you do? Charge at a man who was holding a gun?”

“The lass …”

“She’s fine.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Dugal’s mouth. “Nailed … that bas…tard…to the wall.”

“You did.” Where was the fucking ambulance?

Dugal coughed and blood came out of his mouth. He was bleeding internally.

“Where else were you shot?” his voice grew rough. Bristow. They needed Bristow.

“So cold,” the Scot mumbled. “Need … whisky.”

“You’ll have all the whisky you want, man,” John said. “Just stay with me.”

Dugal’s eyes closed, and he went still.

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