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“Did you marry her?” Vito cackles.
Not yet.
“No?” Vito says into the silence. “Then I’ve got every right to finish the job.”
I clench my fists even harder, taking steady breaths.
Rosie claws onto my hand, digging her fingernails into my skin.
“He’s fucking deranged,” I snarl, taking in the sight of my woman cradling Chopper to her chest with one arm and holding onto me with the another.
Everything I ever wanted, ever needed, is standing right next to me.
And this motherfucker is threatening that.
He’s threatening her.
“He’s got a death wish. Threatening you, Rosie, that’s a dangerous game,” I say.
“Ryland, what are you going to do? What if he hurts him before the police get here?” Rosie asks.
I run a hand through my hair, smirking slightly.
“You’re calm in a crisis, Rosie,” I say. “That’s a good quality in a mother.”
“With all due respect, Ryland,” Harold says, “you didn’t answer her question.”
That’s right.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I turn away from Rosie, holding my shoulders square, standing up straight. I slow my breathing, welcoming the iron-veined calm my father taught me when I was a boy.
He taught me how to fight through hell and not even feel the flames.
“What do you think?” I growl, pressing the hidden button on the wall, inside the wall paneling.
The mechanism hums and then the wall folds inward, revealing a long table with guns set into gun-shaped holes… and all kinds of grenades, a knuckle-duster, a bow and arrows, and a couple of knives.
“I’m going to save him,” I say, leaning forward for a flash bang grenade.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rosie
I sit in the sealed bunker, crossed-legged on the bed, my heart hammering into my throat as I stare down at the security tablet. It shows four security feeds, one of them inside the house, showing Ryland stalking up to the doorway and lay his back flat against it.
We’re in the dormitory-style bedroom, with Mom asleep on the other side, snoring softly, with no idea of the craziness going on around her.
Harold sits on the edge of another bed, his hands maniacally moving over Chopper’s fur. The little Chihuahua grins, purring contentedly, as though he knows how badly Harold needs hope right now.
When I asked Harold if he wanted to look at the screen, he shook his head and strode away from me. His eyes were cold, hard. He’s waiting now.
I stare down, double-checking that the sound is off.
The last thing I need is for Harold to hear this, even if I desperately want to hear it, to be as close to Ryland as I can get right now.
Vito is shouting something.
I lean down, turning the volume up a little.
“It’s okay,” Harold says. “I can listen. I just don’t want to see.”
“Okay, thank you,” I say, selfish gratitude moving through me.
“You can’t hide forever,” Vito yells.
Ryland’s face is completely calm as he pulls the metal cylinders from his pocket, fiddling with them and then sliding closer to the door. He moves with the grace of a jungle cat, every movement coming effortlessly, with the implication of massive power underneath it all.
“You motherfucker. I’ll kill you and then I’ll rape that fucking slut of yours.”
Ryland’s face changes, his jaw tightening.
No, I scream in my mind. You have to be calm. He wants you angry.
Moving in a blur of motion, Ryland opens the door just enough to throw the grenades.
He tosses three, all with perfect accuracy, the grenades landing between the men in a staggered pattern.
Bang-bang-bang.
The men all stagger backward, roaring, some of them bringing their hands to their faces.
Ryland is already moving, sprinting across the short field. He moves like a professional football player, like a man half his age. He moves better than any high schooler I ever saw in track.
He ducks his head and sprints.
Vito is spinning in circles, blinded, and just as he turns to face Ryland, Ryland ducks and lays him off his feet.
Vito lets out a cry and Ryland drags him to his feet in a deft roll, slipping his massive arm around his neck.
Ryland puts his other hand behind his head, trapping him there, standing with his back to Thomas to partially shield him.
He moved so fast.
That whole thing took less than two seconds if that.
He’s the most athletic man I’ve ever seen.
Maybe age really is just a number.
By the time Vito’s men have recovered their vision, Ryland already has him in a stranglehold, lifting him almost off the ground. Vito is as big as Ryland, but Ryland makes him look tiny as he handles him with ease.
“Is anyone willing to risk shooting their boss’s son?” Ryland growls.
The men exchange looks, shrugging, completely at a loss.
“Tell them to drop their fucking guns, you snake fuck.”
Vito cries out as Ryland presses his arm down even harder on Vito’s neck.
He didn’t just beat them with brawn, with his animal strength. He used his predator-sharp wits to outsmart them, and his lion focus to execute his plan.
