Denver was on him in a second, grabbing his gun even as the older guy lifted his. Using his momentum, Denver yanked the younger guy in front of him, pointed, and fired. Several bullets hit the guy he was holding, jerking his body against Denver’s. Denver hit the shooter in the center of his head, and blood splattered all across the wall.
Without missing a step, Denver dropped the dead gang member and pivoted, his gun pointed at the woman.
She blinked, her eyes wide.
He hustled toward her and grabbed Talia as gently as he could, whose face had scrunched up. A piercing wail came from the little one. Denver nudged the woman toward the bathroom. “Go in there and duck down.”
She stumbled toward the bathroom, shutting the door.
Taking a deep breath, Denver eyed the two dead men. Okay. What now? He glanced down at the screaming baby and tried to bounce her a little. His other arm hurt, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. Could he put the baby in the case? It wouldn’t stop a bullet. Nothing in the room would stop a bullet.
His body would stop bullets from hitting her, though.
So he ducked down on the other side of the bed, his gun toward the door. Surely Richie and his buddies had heard the gunfire. Where were they?
The darkness outside suddenly lit up with red and blue swirling lights. Rapid firing filled the air. A gap in the curtains showed men in SWAT gear battling gang members wearing bright gang colors. It was mayhem.
Then . . . silence.
He slowly stood and moved toward the window, nudging the remainder of the torn curtain aside. Malloy was barking orders while leaning against a cop car. Richie and his buddies were handcuffed, facedown over another car.
Denver caught sight of his brothers on the periphery, and then they were gone. Escaped into the darkness. His shoulders settled, and he patted the screaming baby. Then he gentled his hold. She was so damn breakable. “It’s okay.” At least Ry and Heath were safe.
Holding the baby gingerly, Denver yanked open the door and strode outside. He caught Malloy’s eye. “We need her checked out.” He held her like she’d shatter, but he wouldn’t let her fall.
An ambulance roared into the lot, and he hustled toward it, waiting impatiently until it parked. The second the EMTs stepped out, he handed over the baby to an earnest-looking blonde in her early twenties.
Malloy tossed him his clothes. “We grabbed these on the way.”
Denver pulled his jacket into place just as Noni and Tina emerged from another police car. Noni ran toward him across the ice, and he held out his arms. She lunged into him, panic on her face. “Talia?”
He gently turned her toward the ambulance. “She looks good to me. Go check.”
Heath instantly came around the other side of the ambulance, dressed in full SWAT gear.
Denver paused. “Get the hell out of here.” They couldn’t get caught now.
Heath shoved a file full of papers toward them. “Do what you need to do, and then run. You can’t stay.” He then tapped his ear as if getting an order and turned to stride toward a SWAT vehicle. He veered at the last moment and soon disappeared in the darkness.
Denver glanced toward the motel room, where the police were swarming. He’d never get to the money. It was gone.
This was a fucking shit-storm. But at least he had the baby—and she was all that truly mattered right now. He strode toward the car and yanked Richie up by his arms. “Uncuff him.”
Malloy nodded toward a uniformed police officer, who quickly uncuffed Richie.
Denver grabbed the kid by the throat. “Sign this. Now.”
Malloy handed him a pen.
The kid coughed out blood and then grabbed the pen, shakily signing his name
“What is it?”
“You just gave up any right to the baby.” Denver shoved the kid back at the cop and turned for the ambulance. The paper wasn’t exactly legal, but it was something to help with Noni’s case. It was doubtful Richie would show up and contest it.
Malloy grabbed him by the arm. “Give me the papers.”
Denver handed them over, his entire body rioting.
