AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No,” she said, her voice strained. “No. Someone else can take me. I’ll call a cab.”
“Why?” He’d anticipated anger. But fear? He’d expected her to fear Vander, or maybe even men in general, but she’d shifted closer to Atlas. It ripped his heart out. A stranger made her feel safer than he did. “I could take you,” he said gently.
She shook her head, then swayed. “I don’t want you to . . . I just need space.” Seeming to gather courage, she stood. Her glance at Vander’s prone form was brief, and when she finally looked at Luke there was an array of emotions in her expression—terror, rage, betrayal. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t be around you. I can’t be here.” Her voice had gone from calm to high-pitched. Shock was setting in. Her whole body trembled. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“Ophelia . . .” He made a move toward her but she stumbled back, eyes wide. “You’re scared and you’re pissed and you have every right to be. But you don’t have to be afraid of me, I’m not the enemy.”
“You brought . . .” She jabbed a finger at Vander. “You brought the enemy!” Her willowy body was tense and ready to snap. “You led him right to me! Because of you this asshole grabbed me off of my own fucking street. You think you can just give me a hug and I’ll forget about it?” She was toe-to-toe with him then. “I’m not stupid. I know you won’t call the cops. I know how this works. He’ll get away with it and then what do I get? I get to be afraid for the rest of my fucking life!”
It was all true.
He’d always known he was bad for her, but somehow he’d never foreseen this—not this kind of danger. So fucking naïve of him. Fucking stupid. Marcel’s guys had busted up their friend Jimmy’s garage, had broken Carlos’s leg, and then had tried to kill Fox. Why had he thought Ophelia would be safe? This life wasn’t safe for any of them, and he’d be damned if he’d let her get hurt again because of him.
“We’ll keep you safe,” he vowed.
She scowled at Vander, clenching her hands. “How? They have guns. They’re dangerous and you’re just . . . thieves.” Her hands were clenched so hard, her nails had to be digging in. “How am I supposed to feel safe?”
“I’m getting you trained bodyguards,” Luke said firmly. She needed them anyway. Should have had them all along, even before they’d met.
“He told me you killed Marcel. Is that true?”
Lurch barked a laugh. “No, honey. Marcel was an idiot and crashed into a guardrail while he was trying to kill Fox. That wasn’t your boyfriend’s fault.”
She sighed, her body sagging with exhaustion. “Please, Luke. I need to leave. Just let me go.”
Not sure what else to do, Luke urged her toward the office. Should he let her leave alone in a cab? It felt all wrong. She shouldn’t be alone. Maybe he could send Addison with her.
A click echoed loudly in the room. Everyone froze.
Fuck.
Luke pulled Ophelia down to the floor and rolled on top of her. Fox and Atlas were suddenly between them and the others.
“What the fuck?” Vander’s slurred cry was full of rage. Luke glanced back even though he knew damn well he had a gun. He was waving the revolver around like a drunken cowboy in a John Wayne movie. Hadn’t anyone bothered patting him down, or had he grabbed it from someone else? “Lurch, you brought these assholes here to save that little bitch?”
Lurch drew on him. “Drop it, Vander!” Rick was aiming at him too, but neither of them looked like they were in a hurry to shoot. Did they think he was bluffing?
Vander staggered toward Fox and Atlas, but he was looking at Luke and Ophelia. “I thought I wanted these guys dead. I’d have settled for them leaving town. Now I want her.” Vander tried to line up a shot, but Fox and Atlas kept moving.
Should he wrestle Vander for the gun? That would leave Ophelia unshielded, but would it distract Vander long enough for her to get away?
“Back away, Van.” Lurch growled, gesturing with his Beretta. “It’s over. Let them go. You know you can’t run around playing vigilante. We need to focus on the work and quit pursuing this stupid vendetta.”
“We own this fucking city!” Vander shot back. “I know it. Marcel knew it. If you’re just going to let anyone waltz in and steal a piece of the action, we might as well close up shop. No one respec
ts a business that can’t protect its interests. We can’t let them take over and act like it’s no big deal. You want me to drop it? Fox killed my fucking cousin, for fucksakes! It’s only fair I kill him and his.”
“No,” Lurch said calmly—much more calmly than he should have sounded, considering Vander had swung around to point the gun at him. “Marcel lost his shit. He used his car as a weapon and he met his maker. That’s all on him, not Fox. We all agreed.”
“No!” Vander bellowed in unsuppressed rage. “No. You and your fucking minions agreed. Stephane left and moved back to New Orleans, remember? And John helped me with this, then fucked off to hook up with the group in D.C. He hates that we wimped out on this, and has no respect for either of you. That doesn’t mean we all agreed. That means you got your way.”
“We’re not mercenaries, we’re thieves,” Rick spat. “Get your fucking head on straight.”
Vander waved the gun at Rick. “Oh, my head is on straight. It’s you two who are fucked up.”
The muzzle of the gun drifted toward where Luke was, shielding Ophelia who lay quietly beneath him. He tensed, knowing what was coming, hoping he was big enough to shield Ophelia from the worst of the damage.
He stared Vander down as his finger flexed to squeeze the trigger.
