Page 160 of Intent to Kill
T.B. had indeed followed Adam’s gaze up to the balcony where Paul stood, the tip of the rifle and the shot that lined up perfectly with Blake’s head.
Paul hit the trigger fast.
But not as fast as T.B. pushed Blake out of the way and raised his own gun to fire back.
The chaos in the room was as instant and violent as an eruption.
Blake’s men had drawn their guns. Adam’s people had done the same. And anyone who wasn’t slinging bullets across the room was running screaming from the ballroom. Adam barely caught Blake’s enraged, horrific eyes as he took in the amount of spies and traitors that littered the floor on Adam’s side. And when he noted his enemies were still alive.
Dodging bullets, but not bothering to cover his ears, Adam fought through the flow of people who pushed against him to get to the exits, but T.B. and Dorian were escaping with the crowd.
“Alright, plan B,” Adam said, locking eyes with Dan.
Dan, Paul, Carlos, and Adam all snapped into action, pulling out their guns and rushing to follow Blake into the fight.
This was it. The final stand. Dorian Blake wouldnotescape. Adam vowed it.
Dan hit the trigger. And in that millisecond, the mansion exploded.
* * *
A large explosion sounded around Dorian and T.B. as they raced for the front exit. The ground beneath them shook like jelly.
“What the fuck was that?!”
The words were barely out of his mouth before the entire mansion erupted into flames. Alarms sounded. Pieces of roof and floor fell. Fires went up. People ran screaming. They certainly weren’t getting to the front door without trouble.
They retreated up the main foyer stairs. Up to the safest fortress he had left.
“Get in here!” T.B. slammed the door to Dorian’s office shut.
Holding it closed, too, Dorian braced his hand as he typed in a security code that sealed off the entrance.
“Guard this fucking door!” he shouted at some of his men, not sure which ones were still loyal. He was sweating. Sweating hard. Adam Vandemilio was alive.
Again.
Insolent little cockroach that refused to die.
Dorian walked over to the window, the heat from his anger rising like steam off his skin. The guards on the grass below were faltering, Adam’s people taking them out with ease. Anyone who pushed out of the rubble was taken down just as quickly.
God-fucking-damn Adam Vandemilio and his little band of traitors!
Dorian was pulled back by the collar.
“Get away from the window,” T.B. shouted.
Dorian stayed sheltered behind the desk as T.B. stood over him, ready to defend.
“Get some fucking guards outside the door!” Dorian shouted into his radio, but got no reply.
“We have to run,” said T.B.
“He’s supposed to be fucking dead!” Loading his own gun and standing at attention, Dorian groaned. Everyone he ordered had failed to kill Adam Vandemilio. If he wanted it done right, then he’d have to do it himself.
It’d been a long time since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of an enemy kill. Not since his brothers and his cousins had he killed someone so high profile. But tonight, Adam Vandemilio would die at his hands.
“We can’t bunker down in this room,” T.B. said.
