“That wasn’t an option, Beckham.”
Aubrey had brought the cameras and reporters specifically to force his way in. He knew we wouldn’t be able to deny him entry without it turning into a national incident, one that would likely end with Beck and I being branded as kidnappers who infiltrated the safe house he provided for his wife and her best friend and turned one dangerous situation into another.
Resignation lives in the puff of air that leaves his nose when I grip the handle to open the door. I glance at him over my shoulder. “You ready?”
He nods, training his weapon on the space where Aubrey’s head will be in a matter of seconds. I’m distantly impressed by the accuracy of his prediction when the door swings open and Aubrey’s head is in perfect alignment with the barrel of Beck’s gun. Of course, I don’t get to appreciate that fact because now I’m looking into the eyes of the smuggest bastard on Earth.
My hand twitches, begging me to raise my weapon and end all of this. I could do it, aim and fire twice before Garrison and Woodard even bothered to react. Beck would take care of them, a bullet through each of their skulls that would sail clean through and pierce the tires of the vehicles behind them, depositing their blood and brain matter into the rubber while their fellow agents look on helplessly.
Aubrey lets out a low whistle as he passes over the threshold. “Nice digs. A major upgrade from that shack you were in the last time I made a house call.”
Every step he takes forward, results in me taking one back. I’m not running from him, though I can tell by his expression he thinks I am, just keeping enough distance between us to avoid my weapon being taken by the fuckers behind him.
“You can lower your guns,” Aubrey says, holding out turned palms up. “I come in peace.”
“Walk out the door now, and you can avoid leaving here in pieces,” Beck offers.
Garrison laughs. “More threats, Beckham? Do you plan on following through at some point or are you just talking?”
“I was more than willing to follow through the day I promised you that ass whooping, Garrison. Your boy Woodard is the one who decided to delay the inevitable.”
“Today’s not the day for a fight either,” Woodard says, tugging at the sleeves of what is clearly a new suit. Gambit must have given them some generous bonuses for disposing of Marsh.
“That’s exactly what you’re about to get if you think you’re walking out of here with Selene,” I warn him.
Beck and I are side by side now. Garrison and Woodard have stepped around Aubrey. He lingers behind them, grinning at the promise of looming violence, and he actually claps when Beck and I holster our weapons. I don’t see his reaction when Beck swings on Garrison, though, don’t care to know what he thinks about his men not pulling the first punch. As soon as that first blow lands with a thud and crack that indicates the fracturing of Garrison’s jawbone, I only care about one thing: driving all my anger through Mason Woodard’s face.
His eyes go wide when he sees my fist coming, and I laugh at his confusion as blood flies from his nose, spilling all over that pretty new suit. “Did you think this was a fucking game?”
He stumbles back but manages to keep his hands up, firing off several shots when he advances on me. Only one connects, and my head snaps to the side, the taste of copper blooming onmy tongue. I run it over my teeth, painting white with red so my smile bleeds wrath and rage when I turn back to face him, returning the cheap shot with multiple jabs to the center of his face.
Aubrey curses as drops of Woodard’s blood land at his feet. I can’t even relish his fear, can’t tell him that he’s next, because I’m too focused on the way Woodard’s head keeps snapping back when I hit him, like if the next punch is hard enough it might fall off altogether. It doesn’t take me long to overwhelm him, and when he starts to sway on his feet, arms flailing through the air as his knees buckle, I grab him by the collar with both hands kneeing him in the stomach before tossing him into the wall, shattering a mirror in the process.
Pained groans fill the air when he hits the ground, and it takes me a second to realize they’re not just his. I shake my head, clearing red from my vision to get a full view of the hall, and find Beck standing over Garrison who, like his partner, is bloody and defeated.
A slow, applause fills the hall, drawing our attention to Aubrey and the men in the doorway behind him.
“What a display,” he says, placing a heart over his hand to feign sincerity. “I’m truly impressed. Unfortunately, your efforts and their injuries are worth nothing because Selene is still leaving here with me.”
“You’ll have to kill me first,” I growl, stepping forward.
All at once, the agents, who are probably more of Gambit’s henchmen, draw their weapons, their motions fluid and synchronized. Aubrey looks around, a wide, triumphant smile stretching out his thin lips.
“Thatcan be arranged.”
“But it won’t be necessary.”
The voice comes from behind us, but I’d know it anywhere. I’d knowheranywhere. Sugared wild berries and the nectar ofpeaches. Sable skin and gentle eyes that snag on mine for just a second, holding an apology she doesn’t lend her voice to as she moves to her husband’s side.
“No one needs to get hurt, Aubrey. I’ll come with you.”
29
SELENE
It rained the morning AJ died.
Fat, angry drops of water falling from dark clouds, covered my windshield, landing with heavy splats that competed with the sounds of a YouTube video coming from his phone. Before he got out of the car, I told him to take the umbrella I kept in the backseat. He had refused, saying he didn’t want to lug it around all day. I insisted, even went so far as to try to reach it when I pulled into the pick-up line, but he rushed out of the car before I could force it on him. I watched him dodge raindrops as he ran the short distance between the car and the door being held open by Mr. Manetti—his chemistry teacher— annoyed by his stubbornness and proud of his ability to advocate for himself.
