Halfway down the alley, a partially open door. Still low to the wall, I creep forward and then nudge it open, poking the barrel of my gun through first, then my head.
“Linc?” I whisper-shout. I strain my ears, listening. Nothing. “Decker!”
The heavy smell of gasoline assaults my nostrils as I step inside, telling me our plan is in motion. I pause again. It’s all dark, all silent, and then?—
Glass smashes. There’s a low grunt. And then another.
Shit.Shit.
Keeping my feet light, I follow the noise. In the main area, a neon glow streams from a green Heineken sign still lit up behind the bar top. My focus slices across the room—past the pool tables, the booths lining the walls—and locks on a huge, shirtless, tattooed biker just as he slams his fist into my boyfriend’s jaw.
Decker hits the ground, and all my muscles lock up. He spider crawls back, away from the massive man who’s quickly advancing. Ready to hurt him. Kill him.
I can’t have that. I’ve already lost too much.
His attacker pulls out a gun. I raise mine.
Another one of those things I don’t really have to think about. Not when it comes tohim.
When I fire, the world around me slows. I can almost see the bullet bursting from the barrel, ripping through the air, slicing through time and space and into the skull of the man threatening to take what belongs to me.
The body drops with a thump louder than the shot I just took. I cringe. Someone would have heard that.
Decker whirls around, face half covered with a black mask. The moment we lock eyes, his shoulders relax.
“Shit, Gracie,” he breathes as he pushes to standing. He tugs down his mask. My eyes are only on him as he stalks towards me, wraps his hand around my throat, and yanks me into another one of those kisses. Hard. Rough. Laced with passion and the promise that he’s sworn to never break. He isn’t going anywhere. He isn’t leaving me behind.
“Sexy as hell when you’re saving my ass,” he whispers as he releases me. “Thought I told you to stay in the car?”
I smile. “Thought I told you not to die?”
“I was handling it.”
A huff escapes me. “No. You were getting your ass beat.”
A small, broken whimper sounds off near the bar. A woman sits on the floor, hands bound, a rag stuffed into her mouth. She’s wearing boots and an oversized T-shirt. Nothing else. Blood drips from her nose, a bruise forming on her face, cuts and scrapes lining her legs.
The woman I wouldn’t let him kill. She’s not part of this. She isn’t just a casualty.
I glare at Linc. “What the hell happened to her?”
He throws me a look. “You think I did that? Girl was half beaten when I got to her. Courtesy of this asshole, I assume.” He kicks the corpse at his feet. “I just… tied her up, is all. Not like any of it matters now.” He pulls his fallen gun from the floor and aims it at her.
I step in front of the barrel. “Whoa. What the hell?”
“She’s seen your face,” he says. “It was a nice gesture, but I can’t leave her alive. I can’t have any of this trace back to us. To you. This place is about to become a fucking graveyard.”
“Yeah? You want to join them?”
“Grace,” he growls, stepping forward, his weapon still raised. “As hot as it is when you threaten me, I will not let you go down for any of this.”
The ceiling above us creaks. We both freeze.
“Time to go,” he says. “Now step aside and?—”
“Decker,” I grit. “I will put your ass in the fucking ground if you even think about killing her. Let’s do what we came here to do before we all end up dead.”
Jaw clenched, he stares me down. Like I always do, I keep my feet rooted to the floor, my arms crossed, my glare unwavering. There’s no scenario where I back down from this. There’s been enough senseless killing. I won’t add this woman to the list. Tohislist.
