Please God, help us.
They rounded the corner, and for half a heartbeat, Peyton thought they would make it. But then two motorcycles swung onto the road ahead of them. Dawson lurched to a stop, and she nearly ran into him. Automatically, as if of one mind, they whirled to go back the way they came, but three more bikes burst into the narrow road, cutting off their escape.
They were trapped.
EIGHTEEN
It hurt to breathe. Her body shook as Dawson gently pushed her behind him, positioning Peyton between a brick wall and his solid form. The math was brutal. Five bikes. At least seven men. Her heart raced, and she kept a hand clamped over the wound. Blood trailed down her skin. It was impossible to know how badly she was hurt, but the pain was enough to cloud her vision. She couldn’t shoot straight even if she tried.
Dawson, wisely, kept his gun ready, but at his side. A shootout in this alley would end badly for them.
The engines cut out one by one. Silence pressed in, somehow worse than the noise. Boots scraped against the pavement as the riders dismounted.
Then a familiar voice echoed off the brick walls.
“Princess Peyton.” Cade stepped through the line of his men, hands in his pockets, as unhurried as if he were strolling through his own bar. His dark eyes found hers over Dawson's shoulder, and that predatory smile spread across his face. “We meet again.”
Anger flared, hot enough to momentarily cut through the pain. Peyton sidestepped Dawson and jutted up her chin. “Are you following me, Cade?”
“I’m protecting you. You never know what bad things can happen in back alleys.”
He jerked his chin, and within seconds, Peyton and Dawson were grabbed. She cried out as rough hands disarmed her before searching her pockets. Someone removed her cell phone and her backup weapon. The roaring in her ears blocked out the sound of Dawson calling her name. One of Cade’s men punched him in the stomach, and he doubled over.
“Stop!” Peyton struggled against the hands that held her. Her purse strap broke, and the contents tumbled onto the cement. Ricky bent down and sifted through items before shoving his thick fingers into every compartment. The spider tattoo on his neck swam as dark spots clouded the edge of her vision. Peyton feared she’d throw up.
Ricky threw down her bag. “They don’t have it, boss.”
Dawson struggled to his feet, only to be grabbed and held back. His expression was thunderous, his breathing shallow. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip. Peyton belatedly realized he’d taken more than one hit. Fear—not for herself, but for Dawson—nearly buckled her knees. If Cade perceived Dawson as a threat, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him. She needed to keep Cade's attention on her. All of it.
“You’re going down, Cade.” Dawson’s voice rang out with authority. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna put you behind bars.”
Cade ignored him, his attention locked on Peyton. “We need to talk.” He spun on his heel and moved a short distance away.
The hands holding Peyton in place released her. She briefly met Dawson’s gaze, silently willing him to simmer down. They needed to focus on getting out of this alive.
And then she would help Dawson snap the handcuffs on Cade’s wrists herself.
Limping slightly, doing her best to ignore the fiery agony in her side, she joined Cade near the rusted carcass of an overturned shopping cart. Putting a touch of amusement into her voice, she said, “If you wanted to talk, all you had to do was call.”
Cade’s expression remained flat. “You and I share a common interest.”
Peyton didn’t believe for a second that he was talking about her cousin. “You mean Grace.”
“Yes.” His attention darted to the men guarding Dawson, and his mouth tightened. “Someone is trying to bury me.”
“That’s what happens when you’re a criminal.”
He sneered. “Don’t be cute. My enemies are looking for Lilia and the evidence she stole. They want to use it against me, and they’ll kill anyone standing in their way. You.” His head jerked toward Dawson. “That idiot over there. Even Grace, if they think it’ll destroy me.”
Peyton raised her brows. “You expect me to believe that you care about what happens to Grace.”
“She’s my child.” The words were spoken matter-of-factly. Bluntly. As if it were obvious that a cold-blooded killer would move heaven and earth to protect his daughter. Cade stared at Peyton. “You may not like me, but you can count on this. I’ll do what’s necessary to protect what’s mine.”
The raw possessiveness in his voice made her sick. Grace was a human being, not something to be owned and controlled. And yet, a part of Peyton recognized that for him, this was as close to expressing love as Cade would probably ever get.
Her brain was getting muddled and fuzzy. The blood soaking her shirt was turning cold, and goosebumps broke out across her skin. “What do you want?”
“Lose your bodyguard and bring Grace to Sidewinders where I can protect you both.”
