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“No!” Ian screamed, fighting to get to his feet.

Jagger straightened and locked eyes with Ian for a second before jerking around, searching the ground. His gun was missing. Ian searched the ground around Hollis for a second before twisting around to look along the floor of the overlook walkway. He couldn’t find the damn gun. There were too many shadows up there. He’d never heard the gun hit the floor, couldn’t even begin to guess at where it had landed during the struggle.

Stomach churning—he could taste bile rising in the back of his throat—Ian finally gained his footing and pushed away from the railing. He didn’t know where Jagger’s gun had landed, but he could go after the gun that Hollis had dropped and kicked away. He had a vague idea of where that had slid to before they’d entered the cave.

He turned to head back to the entrance of the cave when Jagger’s heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Ian froze for a heartbeat in indecision. He was already unsteady on his feet. He’d never beat Jagger to the gun even if he knew exactly where it had settled after sliding across the floor. And that was assuming that Jagger didn’t know where his own gun had landed.

He was out of time. Out of choices.

With a loud shout, Ian grabbed the remains of the railing that Hollis and Jagger hadn’t broken through and pulled himself up so he could deliver a hard kick right to the center of Jagger’s broad chest as he charged up the last few stairs. The unexpected force shoved Jagger over the side of the stairs.

The man’s arms and legs madly pinwheeled through the open air as he fought for some last-second purchase, his scream bouncing off the sheer cave walls before he slammed down onto a stalagmite. The combination of concrete and steel reinforcement punched straight through Jagger’s back and out his chest, impaling him.

Ian’s grip on the railing slipped and he hit the edge of the stairs, his legs falling over into the open air. He gasped, scrambling to pull himself up onto the smooth concrete stairs, but he could find no solid grip. He was falling over the edge.

A strong hand clamped down on his wrist, holding him in place before grabbing onto his biceps. Ian’s head jerked up to find himself staring into Rowe’s worried face. Rowe helped to haul him back onto the stairs and then continued pulling until he had Ian wrapped up. There was no missing the frantic beat of Rowe’s heart against his own chest or the fact that he was mindlessly muttering the same curses over and over again.

“I’m okay. I swear. I’m safe,” Ian murmured when he could catch his breath.

“You are never leaving my sight again,” Rowe murmured brushing a kiss against the top of Ian’s head. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You and that cop—”

“Hollis!”

Wincing against the newly forming bruises on his chest, Ian pushed out of the tangle of Rowe’s arms and rushed down the stairs to where Hollis was still lying on the ground, but slowly uncurling his long body. One of his eyes was already swelling shut and there was a cut across his opposite cheek, while another darkening lump was taking shape on the side of his head from where Jagger had kicked him.

“Are you okay? Can you move?” Ian demanded. He knelt beside him but was afraid to touch him, unsure of where there might be broken bones thanks to Jagger’s kicks or even the fall.

“You killed him,” Hollis said, his voice rough and strained under the weight of pain.

“He would have killed you.”

“He okay?” Rowe said over Ian’s shoulder.

“Call an ambulance,” Ian snapped.

“Tell them to bring the good drugs,” Hollis grumbled. His one working eye fluttered shut for a second. “So many good drugs.”

Despite his worry, Ian could feel a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He reached out trembling fingers and carefully let them brush down the side of Hollis’s face that was swollen and bruised. Just a few feet away, blood was draining out of Jagger’s body, pouring down the fake stalagmite to create a pool on the floor. It was over. He and his friends were safe. Children were a little safer from predators. They might have even managed to slow down the drug traffic in the city, but all those good things weren’t what his mind kept drifting back to.

The man lying on the ground drawing in short, ragged breaths was safe. Jagger was gone and he’d never again threaten Hollis’s life.

“You know, you’re not getting out of it,” Hollis murmured softly.

Ian cocked his head, confused by his words. Was he delirious from pain? “Getting out of what?”

“You promised me dinner and Star Wars.” Hollis paused and licked his lips then winced when he hit the split in his lower lip. He drew in another ragged breath and continued. “Just because you saved my life doesn’t get you out of it.”

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