"You two do this a lot?" she whispered.
Rocco smirked. "I'd rather not answer that question."
Dante didn't even glance away from the warehouse. "I'd rather never do this again, if that counts." Another shot rang out, and wood splintered inches above their heads. Lark flinched instinctively. Without thinking, Dante reached over and covered the back of her head with his hand, protecting her and shielding her from flying debris. He didn't even realize he'd done it, but she noticed. Rocco seemed to notice too. Their eyes met for a brief second, and something unspoken passed between the two men before Rocco looked away.
"We need to move,” Rocco said.
One of the operators shouted over the radio. "We don’t have a clear shot."
"They're pinning us in place,” another shouted.
Rocco frowned. "They're not trying to kill us." Everyone looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "They're trying to slow us down,” he said.
Lark's stomach twisted. "So someone else can catch up to us."
"Exactly,” Rocco said.
The riverbank offered almost no cover. Old warehouses lined one side of the bank as dark water stretched across the other side. It was a killing zone. Dante crouched beside her.
"When I say run, I want you to run,” he ordered. She nodded. "Don't stop for anyone or anything."
"What about you?" she asked.
"I'll be behind you.” He promised.
Rocco shook his head. "No."
Dante looked over at him. "I'm taking point."
"You stay with her,” Rocco insisted. The words surprised Lark. "If that sniper shifts targets, he'll go after whoever looks like the leader."
"I don't care,” Dante said.
"I know you don’t.” Rocco smiled faintly.
"That's why you're staying with Lark,” he said. Dante opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it. He knew Rocco was right. Lark looked between them. Neither man was trying to outdo the other. Neither was measuring who got to protect her. They were simply figuring out how to keep her alive. It was strange because she'd grown up watching men compete for power and watching them lie, manipulate, and use one another to get what they wanted. But these two were different. They worked together without needing to dominate each other, and she found herself trusting them more with every passing minute. The realization scared her almost as much as the bullets.
"Go!" Rocco shouted as he burst from cover first. The operators followed, laying down suppressing fire toward the warehouse.
Dante grabbed Lark's hand. "Run,” he shouted. She did. Her boots pounded across cracked concrete as adrenaline drowned out exhaustion. Halfway across the dock, a black SUV screeched around the corner, then another, followed by a third. All three blocked the road leading away from the river. Doors flew open and armed men poured out. She could tell immediately that they weren’t her father’s guards. These men wore matching tactical gear.
One stepped forward calmly. He wasn't carrying his rifle. Instead, he raised one hand. "Lark Santos." She froze, and Dante immediately stepped in front of her.
"Keep walking," he growled.
The man ignored him. "We're not here to hurt you."
Lark laughed bitterly. "I've heard that before."
"I'm serious,” the man shouted.
"So am I,” Lark countered.
The stranger sighed. "Your father accepted my boss’s payment."
Every muscle in her body locked because she had a pretty good idea of what he was saying. "What?"
"You're coming with us,” he insisted.
