Her voice is steel.Steady.
She’s got the pistol aimed dead center at his chest.
Roach grins around his cigarette, smoke curling up toward the ceiling.
“Well now, that’s no way to treat guests.”
He takes one more step, and instinct takes over—I move, planting myself between him and Angie.
“Leave,” I bite out.“Sawyer’s not here.And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go before he gets back.”
That earns me a low, mean laugh.
“Still got that mouth on you, huh, Bit?Gotta say, I missed it.”
“We spoke twice, and it was hardly worth remembering,” I snap.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing.“We had something special.I told you—you’re my old lady now.”
“You’re crazy!”
My fingers curl around the gun.My pulse is hammering so loud it feels like a countdown.
Roach chuckles.
“You gonna shoot me, Doll?Nah.You ain’t got it in you.”
He’s wrong.
I pull the gun out, hands shaking, and raise it level with his chest.
“Try me.”
For one breathless second—no one moves.
Then Angie yells, “NOW!”
She swings the cast-iron skillet she’d been holding, sending it flying toward the second biker’s head.He ducks, swearing, the pan smashing into the wall behind him with a deafening clang.
That’s when Roach pulls his gun.
He points it at Angie.
“Stop!Don’t shoot!”I scream, throwing myself in front of her.
“Come with me now,” he snarls, “and I won’t kill the bitch.”
“No, Bit!Don’t do it!”Angie begs, voice breaking.
But I’m already nodding.
Because what choice do I have?
If I run, he’ll shoot her.
If I fight, he’ll shoot her.
I can’t let him hurt her.
