Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

pressed to the back of her neck, a hard hand against her back.
    The car rolled slowly toward the cabin. The guards began to shoot, the bullets drilling holes into the vehicle until it looked like a sieve. Joley could see it coming toward the porch at the same steady speed.
    Don't move.
    It was all the warning she got. The gun suddenly shifted, pointing away from her. She felt the guard jerk. He was flung back and away from her. Blood spattered across her back and arms. The gun clattered to the floor.
    Now. Toward the trees.
    Joley leapt onto the railing and jumped off of it, sprinting toward the tree line. Around her the wind whirled and screamed, creating a mini-cyclone. Branches broke off from the trees above her head, hurtling toward the porch, knocking men down. Ilya came out to meet her, the gun bucking in his fist, spitting death, laying down a covering fire as he yanked her behind him.
    'Go! Get down.'
    Deliberately, Ilya fired three shots into Steve's throat, sending him over backward.
    'Brian. They've got Brian,' Joley said as she raced deeper into the trees and shrubbery.
    Ilya aimed over Brian's head and squeezed the trigger, but at the last moment, Dylan went through the door.
    'No! Hold your fire.' Nikitin grabbed Ilya's gun arm. 'You might shoot Brian.'
    'You shouldn't even be here. They want you dead, I told you that. Get to cover,' Ilya snapped.

    In the distance they heard the crack of a rifle, then another shot. Jonas and Aleksandr were protecting their escape route. The wind tore at the house, whirling around it, loosening boards and rattling the windows. It increased in strength, vicious, finally ripping boards loose so that they flapped. Shingles flew from the roof.
    Nikitin pulled out his gun, speared Ilya a fierce look and ran toward the cabin. Ilya swore and ran after him. Twice he shot one of Dylan's soldiers as they reared up in front of Nikitin. The Russian made it to the porch in spite of the wind and kicked at the door. Ilya grabbed his shirt and jerked him to the side as bullets splintered the door from the inside.
    Sergei Nikitin was no coward, he never had been. He was used to giving orders and expected his men to obey him.
    He was going in after Brian, which told Ilya more than anything else that his feelings for the guitar player were absolutely genuine, because Nikitin never took an unnecessary risk.
    Ilya took a breath and summoned energy to him, tapping into the Drake sisters' combined strength, gathering the wind so that it pulled back for a moment and then slammed into the door with the force of a battering ram. The door buckled and crashed to the floor, and the wind swept inside.
    A volley of shots poured out of the room, the flashes bright in the darkness. Ilya waited for the sudden silence, sent another blast of wind ahead of him and rolled in behind it, going to the left, at an angle from the gunfire. He tried to track Dylan, but the man had already moved. Brian began to struggle violently, kicking and hitting until he broke free and made a dash for the window, obviously intending to dive out of it.
    Ilya couldn't get a clear shot at Dylan, who had overturned furniture to provide cover. He saw Dylan's gun sweep up and track Brian. Heart in his throat, he rolled to get a better angle. Nikitin ran at Dylan, firing round after round. Most of the bullets thunked harmlessly into furniture, but the distraction forced Dylan to turn the gun from Brian to Nikitin.
    The two mobsters exchanged a ferocious storm of bullets until Ilya aimed, squeezed the trigger and shot John Dylan through the heart.
    The wind retreated, leaving behind silence. The room smelled of blood, gunpowder and death. Brian turned slowly, his fingers still clutching the windowsill. Nikitin lay on the floor, the gun still in his hand, blood pouring from several wounds.
    Brian dropped to the floor and crawled to Nikitin, taking his hand. 'Don't.' He rocked himself. 'Don't go-'
    Nikitin glanced at Ilya, who shook his head. 'Get him out of here.' He tried to say more words, but blood choked his throat, poured out of his mouth. He coughed, tried to clear his throat. 'Don't let any of this touch him.' More blood streamed.
    'I'll take care of it,' Ilya promised.
    Nikitin looked up at Brian, and, as their eyes locked together, he died.
    Chapter Twenty
    The sea crashed and foamed, spraying over rocks and up into the darkened sky in white bursts, the sound loud, but familiar and comforting. Joley walked along the captain's