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Only a hundred yards or so to my building. Breathe. Someone had to have heard me.
But I buckle beneath his weight and air wheezes from my lungs.
Cold metal grazes over my forehead, and I glance around a barrel of a gun but still there’s not enough light.
“Why did you do this to us?” Fringes of my memory try to lock onto the voice, but I have nothing.
“You fucking whore. I’ll have to kill you now.” Brittle and cold. His tone leeches the blood from my face.
Gears of a cocking mechanism sting my eardrums.
My heart races. Blood pounds through my ears.
This is it. This is how I die. But I won’t go without a fight. I jerk at my wrist and manage to get one away. Pivoting left and then right I dislodge him enough to get a knee beneath me. But my victory is short-lived. Bruising blows pepper along my ribs and oh, yeah this mother fucker knows where to strike.
I open my mouth to scream but there’s no air left in my lungs to be of much use.
My eyes dart toward the sound of a roaring motor. Screeching tires prelude the smell of burned rubber. A sense of relief of someone seeing me and stopping almost takes hold.
“They can’t protect you forever, you dirty whore. I’ll find you.”
Sickening wet lips smack against my cheek before I take another blow to the ribs. I curl in on myself fighting to keep my eyes open through the pain. It’s a real bitch, but the second he’s off me I shove to my knees, lunge for my clutch and palm my mace. I get a jet off in his direction but only get a stiff backhand as a parting fuck-you.
I can’t identify who the shouts belong to at first. Lots of grunts and thudding footfalls happen yards away from me. I try to crawl in the opposite direction, but a heavy grip on my waist hauls me back. I scream and donkey kick blindly.
I take pleasure in the grunt that follows. This is not how I’m going to die. I can just see my mother’s face and hear her judgmental voice saying, “See, I told her. Now look.” The funeral would be a wreck. Nobody would show up except Justice. Why? Because I have no life outside work. Which is just sad. What does that say about my life choices? I’ll be damned if this is how I go out. I raise my leg again and do a repeat move. Bare toes make contact with the firm gut of whoever the fuck is behind me. I don’t look back. Clawing at the cement, I launch myself up ready to do a 100-yard dash and beat the world record holder. Snow and all.
Only I don’t anticipate the grip on my hips or the arms plucking me off the cold floor.
The more I struggle, the tighter the grip becomes.
“It’s me, baby.”
Strong arms wrap around me.
“It’s me. Fuck, baby. You okay? Of course, you’re not. I’ve got you.”
“Brogan?”
“Yeah, baby. You’re safe. For God’s sake, don’t kick me again. Where the hell did you learn to kick like that?”
I sniffle. “Aerobics class. It’s for the glutes,” I answer honestly, ready to cry from relief. I throw my arms around Brogan and it’s not pretty when I lose my shit.
“It’s okay. Let it out. You’re safe now. Why the fuck did you leave the club? Leave us?”
Those tears I struggle to fight back come out in the ugliest cry-fest. Any remnants of makeup are left on his collar.
He pushes me into a car and pulls me back into his lap the second we’re both inside. I try to look around him for any signs of my attacker but only see disturbed snow in the wake of my fight.
Brogan wraps me in his arms and his hands are shaking. I twist to look into his eyes and death stares back at me.
“Do you know who did this to you, baby?”
I shake my head. “Not a clue. Some nut job Justice and I think I picked up while trying out dating apps.”
Lethal black eyes find mine. Not for me, but whoever it is out to hurt me.
“While you what? Willingly put yourself in danger? Wait ‘til the guys hear this shit.”
“I do have a life you know. One you guys were all too eager to push me into if memory serves.” I shove at his shoulder but those steel arms around me don’t budge. Damn him. “Drop me off at my building. I’ll call the cops and handle this shit on my own. Save your knight in shining armor shit for some other chick who is gullible enough to fall for it because it ain’t me.”
“Right because the cops have done a bang-up job of protecting you so far.”
I turn dry eyes to him. “No better than you have.”
He peers down at me for a moment, lips clamped shut. The arrival of Ryder and Atlas cuts into me repeating my demand, and suddenly I don’t have it in me to argue at the moment.
“Did you get him?”
“Bastard ducked into a building with a locked door. Lucky for him too. I would have dropped him from the roof.” Ryder’s tone drips with the lethal promise.
“We will have to settle with putting a bullet between his eyes when we catch up to him.”
“If you catch up to him. Justice and her men have been working months trying to pin him down.” I realize I should have kept my mouth shut as soon as the words are out.
My admission earns me three laser-focused sets of eyes.
“Talk, butterfly, and don’t you fucking leave a single detail out.”
