Rising from the ashes.
Bastard was on the ground howling, holding onto his upper thigh where he’d clearly been hit.
Brody stood thirty feet away, his gun hanging limply at his side.
The playful cockiness he normally wore was covered by the murderous viciousness that contorted his face.
The same as it had done when that pile of garbage PJ had shown up here.
My spirit twined in both regret and praise, sure that he had been the one who’d taken the shot. The one who’d saved Brinley.
Four Crows raced to the sleaze on the ground and hauled him up by both arms.
I barely even registered him fighting them since all my attention was locked on Brinley.
Brinley who was clamoring for me.
I went running her way.
Scooping her off the ground and into my arms.
Relief slammed me so hard I could barely stand.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” I mumbled into her hair.
A sob hitched from her throat, and she locked her arms around my neck as I carried her back toward the lobby door.
Trevan stood outside it, eyeing me firm and fierce.
I lifted my chin at him.
An unspoken thank you.
Because he fucking knew what was going down in the middle of the mayhem. He knew my men had it covered and would easily take the fucker down without putting anyone in unnecessary danger, when I had let myself lose sight.
Willing to run headlong into the fire.
Without a plan or foresight.
So fucking reckless and wrong.
But that seemed to be exactly what this woman was doing to me.
Making me reckless.
Angling toward things I shouldn’t touch. Wanting things that I sure as hell couldn’t keep.
He gave a quick flick of his head toward the asshole that the guys were dragging in the direction of the clubhouse.
A silent promise that the swine would be ready for me when I was ready to deal with him.
And deal with him I would.
But right then the only thing that mattered was Brinley.
Brinley who was shaking in my hold.
A fist of rage threatened to crush my breastbone, fury and violence still hot on my hands.
