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“They’re switch-…” Tito’s words slurred together.
The blade slit against the stubble of Tito’s neck. More crimson liquid oozed. Without thinking, she shot Alfaro’s hand. Alfaro went down with Tito on top of him. Chaos and a hail of bullets happened in a matter of seconds. Trying to keep from getting shot, Harley ducked behind the door and kept shooting. Fireworks sounded off from the office. The windows shattered and holes the size of golf balls tore up the limousine. Harley took one last aim at Leonardo but Bobby pushed her hand upward. It took her two hands trying to reach up to retrieve her weapon when she felt a cold barrel against her bruised ribcage. She winced looking down and realized Bobby pulled a gun on her.
“Forgive me but he’s still my son.”
The coil of the trigger pulled back and her molar teeth clenched waiting for the bullet to explode with burning sensations she’d known to accept as a bullet wound. It never came. A yoke pulled at her midsection and her legs went out from under her. So this was her death. No Hannah. No Dante. She’d die failing to save Hannah. She was going to die and never be able to explain to Dante about Hannah. Each vibration of gunshot her mind flashed the short moments she shared with Dante, meeting at the bar, the reckless I-Do, the honeymoon celebration. They’d been cheated time.
Eyes still closed, she fell into the buttery soft seats of the limousine. Glass and metal rained all around her. Pieces of cotton and leather exploded with each shot of the powerful bullets. She’d never seen anything like it.
“Keep your head low,” Dante’s voice ordered through a fog.
When she opened her eyes she found herself in the backseat of the limousine, still intact, well at least, what most would consider intact. White smoke filled the front of the office. The bullets drifted off like the last sporadic kernels in a bag of popcorn determined to be popped.
“Tito,” Harley breathed. The smoke choked the back of her throat, her eyes watered. “Check his throat, Alfaro sliced his neck.”
Dante let out an expletive and left her side for a moment. Outside of the limo his voice vibrated in her ears while he screamed orders into a clear earpiece. Harley wedged herself into a sitting position. Half the limo disappeared into twisted metal. Her ears rang from the bullets. From her peripheral vision she watched a sea of men in black swat gear swarm the outside of the office. The men made up Dante’s team. She knew she should have felt relieved for the cavalry to arrive but she still hadn’t found Hannah. As she attempted to step down, hot bullets singed the bottoms of her feet. She kicked away a few but the debris of glass, wood, and metal sank in and punctured her skin.
With the help of the half door she stood. Her eyes flanked to Tito struggling to sit up with Dante’s help. Dante’s blood-stained hands raked through his hair, eyes closed in frustration or prayer. Her heart ached. Tito’s cough became music to her ears. A breath escaped her throat when she saw his feet shift to accommodate him sitting upwards. Some of the other men braced his back, lifting him off Alfaro’s lifeless body. Harley’s eyes scanned the lot. The Marchette men disappeared. No one was left who kn
ew where the girls were. Heartache attacked her. Dead men sprawled from the windows, in the doorways, and around the building, none of them a part of the bureau.
Panic struck her. The sound of her feet shuffling through the glass caught Dante’s attention. He dipped his head toward Tito’s ear and whispered something before he took off running toward Harley. Not being able to move, Harley inhaled in defense, hoping her puffed out chest forced him to back off. He didn’t.
Dante’s manly hands snaked around her neck, his thumbs caressed against her throat while his hands dug into the back of her hair to tilt her head back. Harley opened her mouth to protest but Dante stopped her from saying a word with his mouth. His lips captured hers, tongue snaked in quickly, and he devoured her mouth. A sob choked in her throat. Eyes filled with concern, Dante pulled away. The palm of his hand pressed against her shoulder then his fingers peeled back the T-shirt.
“This isn’t my blood. What are you doing here?” she croaked.
Dante gave her his famous cocky smile, his thumb caressed the corner of her eye, “Until death do us part, remember?”
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” she whispered. She hated herself for the verge of tears threatening to spill. “My life flashed before my eyes and I never got to explain.” Another pang clutched her heart, “Hannah!”
“We’re searching. Elliott and Cole are searching the crates. Javier led us to them.”
“Javier? You found him?”
“Yes, he and Gaston overheard part of these idiots’ plans. He’s up there,” Dante pointed in the direction of the road leading into town, “talking to the Marshals.”
“Marshals? For what?” The only reason a person talked to the Marshals was to get in the wit-sec program.”
Dante anticipated her panic and calmly rested his hands on her shoulders. “He needs protection from Leonardo more than ever now. If his tip for locating the girls comes through, he’s going to be granted protection. You understand why?”
“I do,” Harley released the breath she’d been holding. Her lungs burned. “Poor Hannah, she’s not going to take losing him so easily.”
“Yeah, about that.”
Whatever Dante was going to add had to wait. Their attention shifted to Cole’s whistle as he approached. The skin over her ribcage ached, Harley turned slightly and realized Dante’s arms embraced her. He wasn’t letting her go. Cole approached with his submachine gun at rest, his hand twisted in front of his throat signaling. Harley understood. They hadn’t found Hannah. Her instinct was to head into the office and search through the paperwork. Cole and Elliott had the same instinct. Tito, propped up by TJ, tried to reach for Cole’s leg. It was too late. The blast happened so fast, deafening the world around her once again.
Dante threw his body on Harley’s, pinning her against the frame of the car and shielding her from the blast. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulder. Harley tried to close her eyes against the flying debris. The task team standing by lurched forward. Any shred of evidence blew up into the sky and trickled down in several small fires. Before the flames died down or even the smoke cleared, a speed-boat took off from the marina. Harley couldn’t see but she was willing to bet the vessel carried the Marchette men. She made out four figures before it passed under the causeway in a boat low enough to not need the bridge lifted.
“I know the guy driving the boat,” said a deep voice behind her.
Harley spun around to a familiar face. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Jose?”
Jose Torres, Julio’s older brother reached down, extracted her from Dante’s arms, and pulled her into a bear hug.
“Watch out for her ribs,” Dante warned, hovering like a parent.
Harley pulled back and immediately avoided his handsome smile. The Torres men certainly had been blessed in the looks department. Julio and Roman stood against the half standing wall to the office, talking. Julio stopped the conversation and winked. Eighteen years ago her heart would have done a flip. Today, nothing. She reached down and squeezed Dante’s hand, delighted to have someone by her side willing to walk through fire for her.
