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The three women exchanged glances.

Stevie’s lips quirked. “Hell hath no fury, ladies. Let’s teach these assholes that.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Layla saluted and headed off down the corridor.

A group of goats peeled off to go with her. Looking over her shoulder at her escort, she whooped, “Hell yeah, Goat Army!”

Stevie chuckled as she and Blythe turned to head the other way. “I’m not sure if she or the goats are more dangerous.”

“Depends who’s pissed her off.” Blythe adjusted her grip on the crowbar and fell into step.

The goats herded them along, broad shoulders nudging them away from open doorways. Every so often, a group peeled off and thundered down another corridor. Shouting followed, then running feet and the occasional crash.

Blythe was starting to appreciate having someone else handle security.

Three men came around the next corner.

“There! Grab them!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Could they not see the goats?

Apparently they could, because the man in front stopped so abruptly his companion ran into his back. Boss Goat lowered his head. Blythe tightened her grip on the crowbar as the third man reached inside his jacket.

A goat hit him before his hand came out.

The impact slammed him against the bulkhead and the weapon he’d drawn clattered across the deck, disappearing beneath the herd. The other two men turned and ran. Scrambling after them, the third man staggered sideways, one arm clamped around his middle.

The goats followed, at least three bouncing off the walls again as Blythe pressed herself to the side to let them pass, bending down to pick up the discarded gun. She tucked it into the back of her belt as someone screamed around the corner.

“Remind me to feed them something nice,” Stevie murmured.

“After this.” Blythe nodded toward the next doorway ahead of them.

It was the door to Joe’s fancy apartment. Two different guards stood outside it this time, watching the chaos with professional disinterest.

She recognized that look. Not my monkeys, not my circus.

Neither reached for a weapon when Boss Goat approached. That was interesting. Blythe slowed, keeping the crowbar down beside her thigh.

“You Martel’s guys?”

The big one nodded, hands clasped in front of him. He didn’t look armed, but she wasn’t fooled. His jacket hung too neatly, and he hadn’t bothered shifting his feet when the goats came close.

He was a big bastard. Nearly as big as Rann.

Her chest tightened so hard she nearly missed a step. She locked those thoughts down before they could get any further. Not here. Not now. When this was over, if she survived it, then she would fall apart. But right now she needed to get through that door.

“We got no beef with you or your boss,” she said, her look direct. You couldn’t show fear, not in situations like this. Her fingers wanted to tighten around the crowbar but she made them stay loose.

Martel might have beef with her, but they didn’t need to know that.

“No skin off our noses,” the man-mountain commented. “Boss didn’t say to keep any women or goats out, just Joe’s men.”

“A man who can interpret orders,” Stevie commented. “If you’re looking for a new job, come look me up.”

The big guy looked at her with interest, then gave the barest nod. Then shifted his attention between the two of them. “Don’t care about Joe, but mess with my boss and I’ll break every bone in your bodies. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Blythe smiled. “Come on, gang. Let’s go introduce ourselves.”