No fucking way, assholes. You’ll have to get through me to get Charlie and that is not happening.
Bullets from theirautomatic weapons ping the diner’s metal wall and my cop growls. “I guess O’Malley’s guys didn’t get the memo.”
“Thank God. Otherwise, we’d be dead.” The mercenaries far outnumber us, but with Tommy’s crew, we have a fighting chance.
“Get in the car, both of you.”
Once we’re all in, Dean jumps into the driver’s seat, bounces over the grass, and parks in front of an apartment building where he puts his phone to his ear. “Yo, bro. World War Three has started. What’s your ETA? …Better make it three.”
When an ORA vehicle heads toward us, I grab Charlie’s upper arm, drag her inside, across the lobby, and into the elevator cab.
The doors close, I punch the red stop button, and my heart races. “Change clothes with me. Don’t argue. Just do it. And take off all your jewelry, everything. Your father must’ve put a tracker on you.”
As her thoughts race to catch up, her jaw drops. “Check my back. There’s a scar on my shoulder. The doctor said I was nuts, but I always thought I had a piece of metal lodged under the skin.”
Finger pressed on the white scar, I take out my Swiss Army knife. “Shit. This is going to hurt.”
“Do it. I trust you.” With her eyes locked on mine, I slice the scar lengthwise.
Then, using the tool’s tweezers, I pull the miniature tracker and hold it out so she can see.
“Quick. Step on it.” Her advice would make sense, except for what I have in mind.
As I button her shirt and zip up her jeans, Dean pounds on the front of the elevator. “My brothers are here. Charlie, to me. Now!”
The doors slide open, and I push the girl into Brennan’s arms. Certain she’s safe, I race out of the building, fly down the grassy hill past the diner, and stop in the middle of the road with my hands held high.
“I’m giving myself up. Don’t shoot.”
Chapter 11
Dean Brennan
Gun raised, I hold my breath, but neither group of armed men appear interested in the SUV racing down Route 38 with the escaping teenager.
Strange, but hey, sometimes the white hats do catch a break.
“Okay, Sky, let’s go.” Swiveling on my heel, my inner ear itches as I stare at the empty spot where she stood but a moment ago.
Fuck.I dash back into the lobby and when I can’t find her, rush outside toward the diner and gasp.
Oh hell, no. What does Blunder Woman think she’s doing? She walks diagonally across the intersection, arms up in surrender.
For chrissake.Jumping in my vehicle, I speed over the grass into the parking lot, but I’m too damn late. To her right, O’Malley’s men hide behind a drive-through bank. Sky, however, veers to the Hummers lined up beside a firehouse.
Only God can tell what the ORA will do to her.
Jesus, Lord have mercy.A masked gunman grabs my brave woman’s bicep so hard, she screams over the sirens growling louder.
Babe, I’m coming.My teeth grind and my fists clench as she’s shoved into the back seat. After the mercenaries race off, Tommy’s Keystone Cops close the gap, but I keep my distance. About a mile down the road, the ORA blocks the road, the arms dealer’s men engage, and the Hummer with my woman disappears.
“Dammit.” I pound on the steering wheel and call Adrian. “The terrorists have Sky.”
“I know. Brilliant plan, bro. Everyone was completely fooled.”
“Huh?”Why does he sound so fucking cheerful?The scene in front of the diner plays out in my mind’s eye and in a flash, I understand. Always the protector, Lipanski put herself in harm’s way for that kid. The bodyguard knew I’d never agree and kept me in the dark.
While I curse my stupidity, Charlie pipes up in the background. “Don’t be mad, Dean. This is all my fault. Sky figured out I had a tracker under my skin, removed it, then put it in her pocket. My father’s men will follow her. She’ll be fine.”
