The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 220

“What are you doing clinging to him like that? Come here. If Laura sees you and Franco together when we’re back in Cabinda, you know she’s going to make your life hell,” Hans said, poking at Petty’s arm.

Petty tried to wiggle her head out from Franco’s chest. One of Franco’s hands was still covering her ear, the other pressed against his chest where her cheek was smushed. With explosions outside and all the chaos, she couldn’t hear what Hans was saying at all.

But Franco caught every word.

At that moment, a voice crackled in over the comms. “Franco, you guys pull out first. We’ll cover you from here.”

Franco’s eyes swept over the open ocean below. As the helicopter lifted higher, a line of ships slowly came into view on the far side of the island.

“Don’t waste time on them,” Franco said quietly, his tone like ice. “This is probably another of Abbot’s traps to keep us here. Let’s wrap this up quick.”

“Cover this helicopter,” he added. “Take the ships on the left. I’ll handle the one on the right.”

The ship on the right was clearly the main target and by far the hardest to hit.

The commander in the chopper had fought alongside Franco back in the army. He knew Franco’s reputation. No one was a better shot.

“Got it,” the commander answered, not missing a beat.

Franco shifted, cupping the back of Petty’s head and gently pressing her down until she was tucked into his lap. “Keep your head down,” he murmured.

The door slid open. An icy wind whipped through the cabin, stinging her cheeks. Petty understood this wasn’t the time to argue. She clung to Franco’s legs, staying low and perfectly still.

Franco raised his sniper rifle, his eyes sharp and unblinking as he zeroed in. Finger steady on the trigger, he eased it back with perfect control.

The shot rang out, clean and decisive. A single bullet streaked through the sky and struck the gunnery bay of the rightmost ship. The gunner slumped forward, instantly killed.

“Sitting across from me is just asking to get your head blown off,” he said quietly, like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Petty opened her mouth, but Hans beat her to it. Half serious, half joking, he said, “Better stay there, then. Just pretend he’s not even here.”

Hans rubbed his eyes, obviously exhausted. He’d worried about Petty all through the night after they got back to Cabinda, and now that they were safe, the adrenaline crashed. He let out a huge yawn, but still kept shooting daggers at Franco with his gaze, like he was trying to bore a hole right through his head.

Hans hadn’t slept much in almost a week, hustling through nonstop filming and stress.

He stared at Franco sleepily, but couldn’t fight it any longer. In less than ten minutes, he was out cold, mumbling before knocking out, “…don’t touch her.”

As his head lolled backward, Petty instinctively reached out to catch him, but before she could, a pillow seemed to fly over from her side and slipped perfectly under Hans’s head, catching him as he slumped back.