“Do you think you fell overboard?”
“I don’t know. I just…” Tears blur my vision, and he pulls me against his chest.
“Hey now.” He rubs his hand over my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
No sooner do the words leave his lips when something zips past my head.
“What was that?” I ask, but before he can answer, it happens again.
“Fuck. Get behind me.”
It happens again. A dull, wet snap sound. A chunk of asphalt kicks up inches from my foot. For a second, my brain empties. I don’t even register what’s happening. I only know that Kevlar is throwing me to the ground, shielding my body with his. His weight crushes the air out of my lungs, his hands flat on either side of my head. “Stay the fuck down,” he hisses, eyes wild as he scans the marina.
Another sharp crack. A bullet hits the signpost next to us, splintering it. Something in my brain snaps into perfect, crystalline focus. “We’re being shot at,” I whisper, my body trembling so violently my teeth chatter.
“Yeah, sweetness. That’s the general idea.” He squeezes my arm, never looking at me. His voice is so calm, so steady, like he’s been here before. Maybe he has. Maybe he’s lived his whole life ducking gunfire.
The next shot shatters a glass bottle on the sidewalk. Kevlar’s weight shifts. He reaches to his back as he rolls off me, pulling a gun out of his waistband. “Stay here,” he growls, then moves so suddenly he’s a blur. He launches himself up and forward behind a palm tree.
Another shot rings out. Everything around me moves and sounds in slow motion. My ears buzz and my vision clouds.
I can’t breathe as panic and water fill my lungs. Not really, but I remember being in the water and unable to breathe.
But this isn’t then. This is now.
I try to catch my breath and focus on the sound of tires squealing in the distance. Kevlar steps out from behind the tree, shooting at a car as it speeds away.
He rushes over, shoving his weapon back into the back of his pants. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think so. You?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Chapter Seven
Kevlar
I got Lacey safely back to the clubhouse. She’s with the other ol’ ladies and members while I’m in an emergency session of church. Prez grips the back of his chair before taking his seat. The leather is worn and cracked from years of use by his father, War. God rest his soul, him and Eightball.
“What do we know?”
“Whole lot of nothing,” I tell him. “Lacey said she felt like someone was watching us, and then a shot whipped past her head.”
“Did you see what they looked like?”
“Not a clue. Shooter was parked down the marina row, maybe a hundred feet off. Blacked-out sedan. No plates. At least nothing I could see. Window down just enough for the barrel. No colors. No patches. They sped off before I could go after them.”
Blood, as always, doesn’t show a single twitch of surprise. He just nods and asks, “Did Lacey see anything you missed?”
“It all happened too damn fast. She was rattled. Hell, I was too. But that kind of aim, that was no warning. Guy wanted a body, not to send a message.”
Combat drums his fingers on the table. “Might not have anything to do with the club.”
Poor Boy speaks up, “Could be they were after her.”
“We need to figure out who Lacey is and fast,” Gotti says.
“Buford called a bit ago. Nothing yet on his end. No reports of a missing woman meeting her description. No inquires. He’s checking surveillance from the resorts near where she was found. I could have him check for video from the marina if there is any. Until we know who she is and who is after her, she’s gotta be on lockdown.”
