Lightning flashes outside.
Wynd looks at me, waiting. “What do you want me to do?”
“At the moment, nothing,” I say dryly. If nothing else, I can count on Alexei’s men to keep her safe. At least until I get my hands on her. That woman is forever escaping me. It’s impressive—and irritating. She’s got a sweet ass as she walks away, though. “I’ll talk to her another day. Let’s go.” Yeah, I make sure the cops hear my last word.
We follow the stream toward the exit. Outside, news vans already crowd the darkened street, ignoring the pouring rain, cameras with bright lights pointed at the doors. Horace’s death is a big deal.
“What’s the plan?” Wynd whispers, glaring at the bright lights showing the entire area.
I keep walking toward the darkness, through the storm, and lower my voice. “If Rosalie gets her to Alexei’s compound, I won’t be able to reach her, so we take her first. Map their route and find the spot we can take her from the car.”
“Gotcha,” Wynd says.
We reach my car and I slide into the back seat. “Put the word out that I don’t want Ella or Rosalie harmed in any way.”
Wynd looks down. “Understood. My car’s around the corner, and I’ll bring Fergus with me. I’ll have people in position. Where do you want to be?”
“Oh, I’m going to be in the car that takes her,” I say. That little brat’s freedom just ended.
A pattering splits the air. What the hell?
I stretch out of the vehicle, and the driver tosses me a Sig before ducking. A battered white van careens by the cars parked at the curb, the passenger spraying bullets.
People scream, duck, and run. Reporters take cover and start recording almost instantly.
I turn to see the car with Ella and Rosalie slam into a light pole.
The gunman turns the weapon on them.
“Ella, get down!” I bellow, already on the move.
THIRTY-TWO
Ella
“Out. Get out.” I shove Rosalie with all my strength as she opens the car door, and she falls to the ground, her skirt splitting up the side. “Get by the tire,” I order, panicking. The bright lights around the station don’t allow us to escape into the darkness.
Gunfire erupts all around us.
She grabs my arm and yanks me out, pulling me toward the tire. Then she calmly lifts a small gun from a strap at her thigh and levers up, shooting back.
Bullets pierce the trunk of the car, and I wrap my arm around her neck, dragging her down and out of the way. I look up, seeking shelter.
Justice is running full out toward us, blood on his cheek, firing toward the van as he moves.
The world stops. Holy crap. Danger and fury cascade from him, and his dark gaze remains on me. I can’t move.
Rosalie struggles beneath me. “Let go of my neck,” she croaks.
I release her. “Stay down.”
The wheels of the van screech as it turns the far corner, and then cars rev up in pursuit.
Justice reaches us and he crouches. “Are you okay?” He gently wipes dirt off my chin, his eyes a wild brown flecked with lighter tones.
“Yes.” I gulp as Rosalie sits up next to me.
Alexei’s men surround us. I can’t breathe.
