It had almost been me. He’d slit my throat then dumped me in the skeleton crew’s boathouse, all on Denise’s orders. I drifted my hand to my neck and to the line sliced there months ago. Except there was no time to wallow in self-pity or relive that again. I wouldn’t risk Tyler to get revenge on someone worth so little.
No. Panic wasn’t ruling me now.
I pulled back and finally stared deep into Tyler’s beautiful, furious gaze. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 47
Tyler
We pushed into the hall at speed. Dixie whirled on me.
“I only have one question, now I know you’re okay. After what you said, are you glad to see me?”
Ah, fuck. I hugged her, my feet still moving, something tight in my chest. “I never wanted to leave ye.”
With an abrupt sob, she melted into my arms.
I held her tight. Her head to my chest. My arms tight around the woman I loved. Relief smacked into me. Then fear. Other emotions so deep I didn’t have a name for them.
The double doors crashed open, a fight underway. Presley spilled into the corridor, pursued by Ash. Behind them, Convict pulled Mila free.
Ash threw a right hook, landing on Presley’s jaw with a nice crunch. “Get to fuck, shit stain.”
Presley wrestled. Tried to bar Ash’s throat. But my crew member would never be so easy. He laughed and kicked Presley to the wall.
Heretic pounded the long hall to reach us, blood on his skin that likely wasn’t his.
Dark emotion held in his gaze, a quick assessment of us then his brother. “Ash.”
“Chill your beans, I’ve got this.”
Ash caught an incoming punch and twisted. Presley screamed, and his shoulder popped out at a sickening angle. He slumped, his limb dislocated.
Ash shoved the man free, allowing Heretic to help him up. “You worry too much.”
“Or not enough,” Heretic muttered. “I’ve secured the guards but we need to leave.”
I backed away, taking Dixie with me. “Agreed. Out, everyone. Now.”
The Marchant house was a crime scene, and the death of Denise wasn’t on our hands.
An unhinged war cry rang out behind us. Presley burst from the floor, snatching for Ash at the back of the pack. He took him down, smacking my crew member into a marble table as he fell. It rocked. The marble tipped.
No stopping it. No time.
The slab hit the floor with a thunderous crack. Not loud enough to hide the crunch of broken bone. Ash’s leg was directly in its path, turned where he’d tried to scramble away.
Ash gave a cut-off scream. Then nothing.
He couldn’t take a breath.
Ah fuck, that was bad.
We sprinted to him. Heretic heaved the slab and I got on the other side so Convict could pull Ash free. Our youngest crew member’s head lolled, pain etched in his features.
To one side, Presley scuttled away. Blood on his teeth. His gaze fixed on Dixie.
Heretic pursued him. Slammed a fist into his face. Another. Blood exploded from Presley’s nose. He didn’t stop. Didn’t hear us, or care when Presley slumped, unconscious.
