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“Niklaus Mitrofanov, I am a US marshal,” Corey said. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”
“Ah. You must be this scumbag’s brother, too. All the Blue siblings under one roof. My roof.” Niklaus’s tone told her he was losing patience. “I’ll say this one more time, gentlemen. Put down your weapons.”
The steel in their eyes gave their answer.
“Please, Corey, put your gun down. Jason, I love you. Do as he says. I beg you.”
“I can’t do that, baby.” Jason’s tone was gentle but firm.
“Lovers? You and Ms. Blue? Sheriff, I had no idea.” Niklaus grabbed her, pulling her against his fat body, placing the barrel of his gun to her head.
She held her breath, believing this was her last moment on earth. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Shocked, she heard the back door open and all of them glanced that direction.
Joshua Phong and another man ran in.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mitchell and Lucas use the opportunity the diversion had given them, elbowing the men holding them in their guts, sending the bastards to the ground.
In the very next instant, her men were pulling her free from Niklaus, who was aiming his gun directly at her. They covered her with their bodies as Jason fired at the bastard.
As shots rang out everywhere around her, she saw the mobster’s eyes widen, his gun tumbling to the ground. Mitrofanov slumped over, dead.
She screamed when she saw Roman point his gun at Jason.
Shane, now free of his restraints, jumped in front of Niklaus’s son, taking the bullet meant for Jason.
“No. God, no. Let me go.” She struggled to run to Shane, but Lucas held her tight. “Please. I have to get to my brother.”
Roman, the last of Mitrofanov’s men still standing, swung his gun her direction.
Before the bastard could get a shot off, Jason killed him.
* * * *
Jason ran to Phoebe, who was already leaning over her brother, his friend.
She pulled out her cell and punched in 911. “Talk to me, Shane.”
“Black will come, sis,” Shane whispered, and then closed his eyes. Thank God he was still breathing.
“What did he mean by that, Jason?”
“No clue.” Jason ripped off his shirt, twisting it into a ball and placing it on the wound in Shane’s chest.
“My fucking phone is dead.” Her face was filled with alarm.
“Use mine, sweetheart. It’s in my left pocket.”
The room was littered with four bodies—Niklaus, his son, and two of his henchmen. The other two, who had been holding Mitchell and Lucas, had surrendered. Corey placed them in handcuffs. Josh was helping Agent Smith, who had also taken a bullet in the shoulder.
Phoebe touched his arm. “Jason, your phone is dead, too.”
“Fuck.” He wasn’t about to let Shane die. His old friend had just saved his life.
Keeping his shirt, which was now soaked in blood, pressed to Shane’s chest with one hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his ROC. He’d already run through the security prompts before coming inside the warehouse to be ready to get in touch with Brown at a moment’s notice. “Use this, baby.”
She took it and began to dial.
