But Ringo is trained for this. He’s built for this. To fight physically. To protect.
And Bobbi is nothing but a helpless, innocent little baby that needs me to do everything I can to protect her while her daddy fights the bad guys.
Yes, I know he’s not her birth father, but he is hers, and she is his. They don’t need the same blood running through their veins for me to know that is undeniably true.
Heavy feet pounding back down the hallway has me stiffening, Caroline’s arms squeeze tighter around me like that will somehow protect us if a bad guy finds us.
The bedroom door slams against the wall as someone bounds in, and a whimper of terror escapes me, probably giving away our hiding spot.
“Angel!” Ringo snarls, and I almost start crying at the sound of his voice.
“In here,” I rush out, reaching to open the closet door, but it opens before I can do it.
Looming above us, my husband stands in only his boxers and tee, his hair down and wild, blood smearing his cheek, arm and thigh.
“Take this and get Bobbi the hell out of here.” He holds out a gun to me, and I take it with a shaky hand, trying not to disturb Bobbi too much since she seems settled with the dummy. “Go up the beach. Find a house and get help. Do whatever you have to in order to get away safely.”
“But… what about you?” I rush out as Caroline and I stand quickly stepping out into the destroyed room.
Shit, even the humidicrib has been shot to smithereens… Bobbi could have been in that.
Ringo’s big hands cup my cheeks, dragging my attention away from the carnage and back to him.
“I’ll be right behind you. Just get the both of you to safety. Please.”
There’s a desperate plea in his tone, so I nod, my eyes pricking with tears I force back.
Quickly leaning down, Ringo presses a chaste kiss to my lips, as Vender’s bellow sends a shiver up my spine.
“More incoming!”
“I’ll hold them off, Angel.” Ringo drops his hands and glances down at Bobbi, gently grazing the backs of his knuckles over her chubby little cheek before glancing back at me. “Now go.”
There’s pain in his eyes as he looks at me. It’s almost like he’s saying goodbye without saying the words, and it splinters my heart in two.
Right now, one side belongs to him. The other to my daughter.
I want to argue, but I don’t. I can’t because he steps away, spinning on his heel and storming from the room like a man ready to walk into Hell, leaving me standing with my baby, still asleep in my arms.
23
Idon’t know who these fuckers are, but whoever hired them will fucking pay for this.
Two more men burst through the entrance where the front door used to be. They’re dressed in all black, their faces covered, and the fuckers have night vision goggles on.
Talk about an unfair fucking advantage.
By now, one of the neighbours would have heard the war raging in this tiny, shitty little seaside cottage. Normally I don’t want the pigs to get involved, but if getting cops here means keeping my wife and Bobbi safe, then fuck, I hope someone has called for help already.
“Come on, motherfucker. Come and get me!” I snarl, as fuckwad number one strolls in so fucking casually, that I’m kind of impressed.
Why they aren’t shooting anymore is anyone’s guess, but the moment he unsheathes a knife Hush would be proud of, I grin.
I don’t mind me a little bit of hand to knife combat. Especially since we are all out of bullets. The only gun loaded is the one I gave Abbey.
We came here with seven men, plus me and Abbey. We’ve lost communication with Stocky and Trunk, and I try not to think about what that means, because I need my head right here, right now, doing everything I can to make sure these fuckers die.
I saw Trigger’s body just before when I ducked my head out to check on him. There are so many bullet holes in him that I know it’s going to be hard to identify who he is.
