Gunshots pelted the exterior of the hangar. Peter and I knelt behind pallets full of airplane parts and machinery. I’d lost more men than I cared to think about, not that I had time to think when the reaper was breathing down my neck.

I reloaded my Glock. with my last clip. My Uzi was long gone. Peter was down to two handguns, no reloads. Outgunned and outnumbered, all we could do was hunker down and make our last stand. Several sets of footsteps echoed through the cavernous space as our assailants, cocky with victory, made their way toward us. My men from the waterfront wouldn’t make it in time. We’d been mowed down man by man, the airfield turning into a slaughterhouse. Dmitri’s men took no prisoners.

Peter’s grave face told me it was over. But I already knew. I only wished that I’d been able to get a message to Sabrina, to warn her that my protection was about to disappear. I took solace from the fact that she had David with her. When I didn’t return tonight, David would know to grab the cash from my safe, take Sabrina, and get out of town. I had to put faith in him, and push away any thoughts that he could possibly be the rat. Peter was by my side, fully aware we were about to die together. His steadfastness told me that his brother would stand by me just the same.

“Hey, Nate!” A voice I didn’t recognize with a thick Russian accent catcalled me from across the hangar. “I know you’re in here. Hiding like a little bitch.”

I leaned over and peered through the blades of a rusted turbine. A tall Russian in a shitty suit strode out in front of a line of two dozen of his soldiers. His cocky swagger needed to be taken down more than just a few notches. I eased my Glock between two of the turbine blades.

He kept coming, a stupid grin on his face. “I’ve been thinking about putting you down for a while now.”

“That’s funny.” I squeezed the trigger, delivering a slug between his eyes. “Because I don’t think about you at all.”

As the dickhead fell backwards, a raging surge of gunshots formed a deafening wall. Peter yanked me down as bits of metal sprayed around us. My forehead and ears stung from exploding shrapnel as the Russians let loose what seemed to be a never-ending barrage of bullets.

“I think you pissed them off,” Peter yelled over the din.

I grinned. “Any asshole that tries to start a villain monologue before he kills the star of the show deserves a bullet in his face.”

Peter patted his chest over his heart. “You finally admit that I’m the star of the show. It’s about goddamn time.”

I laughed even though I knew that we were one bullet away from the grave. If I had to die, at least I was doing it with a friend at my side. The gunshots died down as the footsteps grew closer.

I met his eye. “Sorry I pulled my gun on you.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t pull the trigger. I guess that’s what counts.”

It was a smartass absolution, but an absolution all the same.

“Ready to go guns blazing?” I lifted my pistol.

“As long as I take some of them with me, I’m cool with it.” Peter maneuvered into a crouch next to me, both of us ready to use our last gasp of adrenaline.

“On three.” I gave Peter a final nod. My thoughts tried to stray to Sabrina one final time, but I only allowed myself the brief mental image of her cornflower blue eyes as she looked up at me, a mischievous smile on her lips. “One.” She told me she loved me. “Two.” I told her she was the only one. “Three.”

We burst out from behind the pallets and fired wildly while rushing to fresh cover behind a Cessna. I’d almost made it when I chanced a look behind me. Peter had fallen, one of his pistols clattering away. I rushed back and grabbed under his arm, yanking him toward the Cessna.

“No!” He tried to pull his arm free while also firing the last of his bullets. “Leave me.”

“Fuck you.” With a final pull, we collapsed behind the Cessna’s tire as the Russians yelled and cursed in their mother tongue.

Fire cut across the side of my neck, and I could feel hot blood running down inside my collar. Peter clutched at a wound in his stomach, blood blooming along his light blue shirt.

I tossed my Glock and pressed my hand to the wound. “I’m empty.”

Peter’s gun fell from his hand. “That was kind of anti-climactic.”

“Funny. Your mom never says that.”

He chuckled but clutched his torso.

Heavy sets of boots approached in the now quiet hangar. It was the sound of the end. No more fighting, no more running.

My thoughts strayed back to Sabrina, her sassy tongue and tender heart, as the Russians came into view.

I love you, Sabrina. Can you hear me? I love you.