There were ten men waiting for them, and one of them had a video camera in his hand. She was being recorded, which sent a chill down her spine.
“Ah, so this must be Ruby,” one of the men said, and she focused her attention on him. He was an older man, maybe in his sixties, with salt and pepper hair and a goatee. He was short, but she could tell that he was a powerful man. It was obvious in the way that the others watched him, as if waiting for orders. “I’m Rocco Mancini.”
Uh-oh. This is really bad.
Owen didn’t tell her much about his job, but she knew about the Italians because he felt she needed to be warned to avoid their territory. She knew that this man was the Don of the Italian mafia.
“Why am I here?” she asked, sounding braver than she felt.
He chuckled, radiating arrogance. “I’m afraid that you’re just a means to an end, my dear. No hard feelings.”
He pulled a handgun out, and it wasn’t difficult to put the pieces together. This was about hurting Owen. That was why she was being recorded. This bastard was probably going to send Owen the video of her death. It was sick.
She wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
Calling upon the one brief self-defense lesson that Owen gave her, Ruby positioned her feet the way that Owen taught her and shoved her hand into the face of the man holding her, hitting his nose with her palm.
He cried in shock and pain, releasing her arm to hold his nose as it gushed blood. Ruby took advantage of the opportunity, running away from him and the Don and all the other dangerous men. It was probably futile, but she had to try. There was a door on the other side of the warehouse. It had to be an exit.
A shot rang out behind her, and her heart skipped a beat, terror seeping into her bones. But it missed, and she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Reaching the door, she grabbed the handle and pulled.
Nothing happened. Letting out a choked sob, Ruby tried to push and pull at it frantically, but it did no good. It was locked.
The Don laughed, as she stood there, dread making her feel sick. “Foolish woman. You’re just one civilian. You can’t hope to get away from us.”
Ruby turned around and faced the man as he started to walk toward her, knowing that this was where she would die.
But a deafening crash changed everything. A car came barreling through the door of the loading bay near where the other men were. Most of them scrambled out of the way, but not all of them were fast enough.
That probably should have bothered her, seeing that death and destruction, but her eyes were latched on the man behind the wheel. Owen had come for her. Before the Italians could recover, he got out of the car with a gun drawn while a Declan got out of the other side and a group of his men flooded into the warehouse through the new hole.
She wanted to run straight to Owen, but bullets started to fly, and she wasn’t an idiot. There wasn’t a clear path to him, so she ducked behind some crates along the wall, and stayed low, silently praying to whoever might listen that she and Owen got out of this alive. The crates were all along one side of the warehouse, she moved in the direction of Owen and his men, staying crouched down to make sure she wasn’t seen by the enemy.
It was slow going, and the shooting was starting to decrease before she was halfway there. Unable to deny her curiosity, she peeked at the scene just in this to see the Don and a couple of the others slip out the door she’d tried to get through. Apparently, they had a key.
She didn’t like the guy got away, but she couldn’t worry about that when the shooting suddenly ceased and Owen called out for her.
“Ruby?” he yelled, fear and desperation clear in his voice. She’d never heard him sound like that. “Ruby!”
She stood, running around the crate she was crouching behind and heading to him. Not caring who was watching, she threw herself into his arms, knowing that she was safe again.
17
OWEN
Owen held Ruby tightly and willed his heart to stop trying to beat out of his chest. He’d seen her when he drove into the warehouse. She was standing there, alive and waiting for his rescue.
Then, the shooting started and he lost sight of her. He was so scared that she’d gotten caught in the crossfire that he nearly fell apart in front of everyone.
He pulled away from her just enough to look her over and assess for injuries. She seemed fine except for the wound on the side of her head. That explained the blood. Head wounds always bled a lot.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes welling with tears. “I was just so scared that I wouldn’t see you again.”
“I’ll always come for you,” he said, cupping her cheek and swiping a tear away when it rolled down her cheek.
Her eyes landed on the scrunchie on his wrist. The corner of her mouth quirked up, a shadow of her usually bright smile. “That’s a new look for you.”
