Page 186 of Sins of Innocence

"Lap belt. Cut."

The second strap gives way. Her full weight drops instantly. Dagda and Noah catch her.

I don't allow my grip on her to slip a fraction of a millimeter. Bracing against the driver's door beneath me, I hoist upward, my hands locked around her jawline, keeping her neck in perfect, rigid alignment with her spine as her body goes horizontal.

"We're taking her straight out the front," I bark, my muscles straining as I move in lockstep with her. "Noah, back out. Pull from the armpits. Dagda, guide her legs. Move as one unit. Now."

Noah scrambles backward through the cleared windshield frame, planting his heavy boots firmly on the road. "Ready, Boss."

"On three. One, two, three—"

With a coordinated, powerful surge, Dagda pushes her lower body forward while Noah pulls. I slide my own body flat along the center console, arms extended, acting as a human brace for her head.

She slides smoothly over the vinyl of the dashboard, emerging torso-first into afternoon sunshine.

The two guards holding the perimeter immediately break formation and come to help. They slide their arms under her torso and thighs the second she clears the SUV frame, absorbing her weight before her spine can sag.

I scramble out right behind her, my knees hitting the road, my hands still framing her face. "Keep her flat. Straight to Dagda's truck. Move!"

It's the only other armored vehicle in our convoy.

Without my men's suppression fire, the shooting from the hit team intensifies.

"Boss," Noah says, his tone urgent. "There's a civilian woman pinned by her steering wheel and the engine block is smoking."

I look down at Áine, protective fury a red haze in my brain.

"You have to help her." Áine says to me. "I'm fine. You don’t have to do all this."

"I'm not risking you." That should be a given.

"You were in the accident too and you're moving around. This is overkill."

I don't agree, letting my silence be my answer as we carry her to Dagda's vehicle.

"Once my wife is secure in the truck, you and Miller drop smoke, check the civilian, and pull her out," I order our extra guards.

There are plenty of people slowing to look, but no one stops to help us. Fucking A. That would be one hell of a mess.

But it looks like both we and the flatbed have help already since we each have two vehicles parked near us.

Dagda even thought to put the emergency flashers on.

The hit team is using suppressors, and so are we. The freeway noise is keeping the shots from being heard, but that won't last forever. Not if traffic slows down enough.

By some kind of miracle, our SUV stopped against the median, leaving room for traffic to get around us. The flatbed truck is blocking one lane, but it's a Sunday afternoon.

Traffic is light on the LIE right now.

Tires squeal and three more cars slam to a halt near us. It's Mick and two teams of soldiers.

Mick jumps out of his car and the guards exit one of the others, but the men remain inside the third.

"She okay?" Mick demands.

"I'm fine," Áine says with clear exasperation as we carefully slide her onto the backseat of the SUV. "Mr. Protective Pants is being extra."

"She could have a spinal injury." I don’t have to explain that to Mick, but maybe saying it out loud for Áine to hear again will make her realize I'm not being extra.