A rush of cool air enters the room, but I stay totally still. The gun is hot in my grip, the metal no doubt leaving grooves in my palms from how tight I’m holding it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Careful. Deliberate.
A predator.
I, its prey.
I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Move one more inch”—Gable’s voice is low, a rumble of thunder, a promise of violence—“and I blow your fucking head off.”
I open one eye to watch Gable stand, arm outstretched. Turning, I sit up, panting out breaths at the masked man behind me, his hands up. Motor growls, ears low.
“Mask off,” Gable says.
“Just shoot him!” I squeak, then slap my hand over my mouth. Wow, my morals really go out of the window when I’m in fight or flight.
Gable keeps his attention on the killer. “I need information first, Gibson. Mask. Off. Slowly.” The killer reaches for his mask, slowly pulling it off to reveal a handsome, young face and dark hair. He can’t be older than me, and bright green eyes are fixed on Gable as he drops the mask on the floor.
Gable’s eyes widen, his grip on the gun loosening. “X?”
The killer rushes at Gable. His shoulder meets Gable’s stomach, and they both go tumbling back into the desk, the gun thumping onto the carpet. I scream, my hands flying to my mouth as X lands several painful-looking punches into Gable’s ribs.
“Fucking—” Gable brings his elbow down into X’s spine, making him grunt, before gripping the back of his neck, yanking him up and punching him in the throat. X’s eyes fly wide and he chokes, clutching at his windpipe as he stumbles back, almost falling.
Gable advances quickly.
He punches X in the nose, blood spitting across the yellowed wallpaper. He punches him again, and again.
“Yes, Gable!” I cheer, clapping. “Smash his face in!”
As X’s back slides down the wall, Gable pants and looks at me. “I don’t need the running commentary, Gibson. Also, what happened to these morals you were harping on about?”
“They died! Kick his ass!”
A ghost of a grin crosses his lips, but it quickly dies when the door opens again, and it’s no longer the three of us.
Motor’s growls deepen as two other men enter the room. It’s clear right away that they’re all brothers, maybe even triplets, the only thing setting them apart their clothes. X is in dark clothing, but the second man whoenters is in a three-piece tweed suit. He looks closer to a professor than a killer, his equally green eyes pinning me as he enters. I instantly want to shrivel back into myself, but I keep my shoulders squared, not looking away.
Until the third man comes into view.
He’s in a black suit and shirt and is a smidge taller than his brothers. He’s also broader, almost as big as Gable, but not quite.
Still, there’s three against two, and I really do not like those odds.
“We had a fucking deal, Z,” Gable says, his attention on the bigger brother. X is getting to his feet, blood dripping out of his split lip and busted nose.
Z closes the door behind him, and he stares at me while he answers Gable.
“Our deal was that we wouldn’t kill you or Asher.” His gaze drops down me. “We’re here for her.”
My entire body tenses. Motor shifts closer to me, baring his teeth at Z, as if he understands the threat.
“Our deal was you don’t kill family,” Gable says, and this earns him Z’s full attention. X is mumbling about his nose being broken, and the other brother is still staring at me silently. “She’s family.”
Z smirks. “Oh, really? Did you marry her in the last twenty-four hours, Gable?”
