Barbarian

BARBARIANEMPIREBOOK 2 PENELOPE SKY HARTWICK PUBLISHING Hartwick Publishing Barbarian Copyright © 2023 by Penelope Sky All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS 1. Bartholomew2. Laura3. Bartholomew4. Laura5. Bartholomew6. Laura7. Bartholomew8. Laura9. Bartholomew10. Laura11. Bartholomew12. Laura13. Bartholomew14. Laura15. Bartholomew16. Laura17. Bartholomew18. Laura19. Bartholomew20. Laura21. Bartholomew22. Laura23. Bartholomew24. Laura25. Bartholomew26. Bartholomew27. Laura28. Bartholomew29. Laura30. LauraEpilogue 1BARTHOLOMEW I sat in the waiting room, my arm wrapped in a tight gauze. My jacket was bloodied and ruined, so I’d shoved it in a garbage can after I got Laura into the hands of the doctors. Now I sat there, the TV in the corner showing the twenty-four-hour news cycle, an older couple in the opposite corner, eyeing me warily from time to time—like they knew I was bad news. I was bad news. Bleu entered the room then slowly approached me. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I couldn’t ignore my responsibilities. “How many men did we lose?” “Two.” “Who?” Bleu sat beside me. “Hector and John.” It could have been worse, but it was still a stinging blow. “And how many did they lose?” “A lot.” “Leonardo?” “He survived. I think a bullet grazed his leg.” Bastard. Bleu glanced at my arm but didn’t ask if I was okay. “What are your orders?” For the first time in my life, I didn’t have any. “We have to retaliate.” I couldn’t. We made a deal—and I was a man of my word. “There will be no retaliation.” Bleu 2LAURA My consciousness stirred slowly. It started off as a faded dream. Then my thoughts formed. They were incoherent at first, but then they started to solidify, and I started to remember things. Like being shot in the arm…by my father. My eyes opened, and I gasped in terror. He was there, his hand on mine, sitting right at my bedside like he’d been there the entire time. Dark hair. Dark eyes. His calm command soothed my terror as his thumb stroked my hand. “You’re in the hospital. You had surgery to remove the bullet from your arm. The doctor said you’ll be fine.” I looked down at my arm, seeing that it was wrapped up in a sling. I moved my fingers then tried to lift my arm, but it hurt like a bitch, so I stopped. “You’ll have to wear that for a couple days.” “I don’t have a couple days.” “You need to rest—” “No. I need to get a gun and shoot that motherfucker twenty times in the face! Now get this shit off me.” “Laura—” “Nurse!” I had an IV stuck in my arm and other wires connected