I have to fight. I have to survive. I have to get back to Nash.
“Delaney!” Arms curled around her and hauled her back. “Let me, baby, let me!”
Nash. His arms were around her. He was pulling her away from Charlie. He was taking the knife from her and surging back toward the guy who’d attacked her. He was killing?—
“Nash, stop!” Ryan. Ryan was there, too. Only he wasn’t alone. Some big guy with a gun gripped in his hands was beside him. An intense man with…was that a badge clipped to his belt?
“We have him!” The man with the badge yanked out handcuffs. “We have them all, buddy. So just stand the hell down, would you?”
But Nash let out a primal roar and tried to charge at Charlie.
Charlie whimpered.
Ryan jumped into Nash’s path. “Stop! Look at her. Look. At. Her! Delaney is safe!”
Nash sucked in a shuddering breath. His body whipped so that he faced Delaney.
“I’m okay,” she managed. She was. Adrenaline poured through her. Fear quaked in her blood. But she was alive. “I’m safe.”
“I’m not!” Charlie shrieked. “I think she cut off my pinky finger!”
She might have done that. She’d been very stabby at the time.
“You’re safe.” Nash took a step toward Delaney. He dropped the knife. “You’re okay.”
Delaney threw her body against his. Her arms wrapped around him. She held on for dear life.
“Fuck.” The man with the badge crouched next to a sobbing Charlie. “She did cut off his finger. See if you can find it, will you, Ryan?”
“Damn, Delaney.” Ryan seemed impressed. “I did not think you had it in you.”
Nash’s arms locked around her. He shuddered against her.
“Ryan, search,” the man blasted.
“Gray, chill,” Ryan tossed back. “He can survive without a pinky finger. Not a big deal.”
Her eyes squeezed closed. Gray. The man with the badge had to be Grayson Stone. The FBI agent that was supposed to be watching their backs. Gray was there. Ryan was there. Nash was holding her. So Kurt…? “What happened to Kurt?” Delaney asked. The last image she’d had of him—the edge of the shovel had been against his throat.
Nash’s head lifted. “Jezebel has him. I wanted to kill Kurt. I wanted to destroy him. I wanted?—”
She shot onto her toes. Yanked him toward her. And kissed him. Because all she wanted in the entire world was Nash. For Nash to be safe. For Nash to live. For Nash to survive.
And he had. He’d lived. They’d both survived.
And, as she’d boldly told Kurt, the cops were swarming.
This time, it looked like the good guys were going to win.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I want a lawyer!” Kurt Wellington slammed his cuffed hands on the small table in front of him.
Jezebel burst into laughter. The hard, rolling kind that started in the pit of your stomach and just exploded from your mouth. The kind that just made a woman feel fabulous.
Her laughter also made Kurt pound his hands all the harder. “I. Want. A. Lawyer.”
“I. Don’t. Care.” She pounded back. Then shook her head. “Who do you think I am? Some beat cop? Typhon, you are talking to the CIA right now. If I want, I can have you tossed into a deep, dark hole, and you will never be seen again.”
