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Bang…
Bang…
I sat up straight in the bed as the hotel room door flew open, slamming back against the wall. Four or five men rushed into the room like fucking trained operatives, but even with the haze of sleep affecting my brain I recognized them instantly.
Ham didn’t even have time to get out of his chair. I saw him reach for his gun, but just as his fingers brushed over it, the barrel of an assault rifle was pointed directly at his temple.
“Don’t fucking move, asshole,” Texas demanded, causing Ham to freeze, his eyes the only thing moving, searching for me.
I knew what he was thinking…how could he get to me?
Romeo leaped up so fast that he flipped the small breakfast table over, the drink he was pouring crashing to the floor and spraying everywhere.
I should have been scared.
I wasn’t.
I was fucking pissed off.
“Hey now,” Romeo called, his hands in the air but his eyes narrowed on the last man who stepped through the door.
My fucking father, of course.
“What the fuck is going on here? I called you. I told you we’d be in tow—”
Huntsman leveled his gun at Romeo, a dark look in his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”
Skins and Levi had gone out to get food. It was just Romeo, Ham, and us girls—Dakota was still sleeping off the drugs and hadn’t even moved a fucking muscle with all the noise.
Huntsman nodded to me. “Ripley, get her. Diddit, get Dakota.”
Ripley moved toward me, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans and before I could tell him where the hell to go, Ham was out of his chair and heading toward me. “Don’t you fucking—” He flew forward onto his knees as Texas hammered him in the back of his head with the butt of the rifle.
“Ham,” I screamed, leaping up from the bed as Ripley grabbed me around the waist and began hauling me toward the door.
Ham was relentless, fighting hard but struggling to get to his feet, his eyes focused on me as Ripley forced me toward my father. He was almost at his feet, only to have Texas rear his foot back and drive it into Ham’s ribs and send him sprawling onto his side, clutching his stomach.
“Stop,” Romeo roared, his voice followed by a sharp crack and smash as he was thrown against the wall, the picture that was hanging there, now in broken pieces on the hotel room floor.
I had to stop this. I had to make them listen. Or Ham and Romeo were going to be killed before Huntsman even bothered to hear what I had to say. He was on destroy mode. I could see it in his face.
I dug my feet into the ground, stopping Ripley for just a brief second, enough time for me to twist my body and reach for his gun. It slipped free into my hand, and I stumbled back, instantly feeling its weight pull me down. It was heavier and bigger than I was used to, but it didn’t fucking matter to me.
The room seemed to freeze. No one was fucking listening. Everyone was on this mission to seek and destroy, to try and protect me without getting their facts straight first.
All eyes moved to me as I took the gun and walked straight toward Huntsman.
If he was surprised by my move, he didn’t show it, but I was sure as hell about to get some kind of reaction out of him. I wasn’t sure quite what yet, but I didn’t care, as long as the people I cared about were safe.
I stopped a few feet from him, far enough, so I wasn’t right in his space, but close enough so he knew I was fucking serious. Then I lifted the gun, it was heavy, and I was going to have to make this point fast before my arm fell off with holding its weight. I pointed it high, right at his chest. He didn’t flinch, his body not moving a single muscle, but I could see the way his eyes changed.
This was a betrayal. This was the ultimate kick in the guts.
“Tell Texas to stand down,” I ordered, fighting to keep my hand from shaking. I didn’t want him to see any weakness. Part of me wondered if this should have been a harder decision.
Huntsman was my father. He was my blood. My DNA. He was the reason I existed, and up until now, while he was kind of shut down and cut off, refusing to let me in, I still had respect for him. And with the way he’d come in here, thinking he was protecting me, or saving me, or whatever it was that they thought was going on, it proved there was a part of him which genuinely cared about keeping me safe.
I respected him. I cared about him. I was glad I’d found him. But he wasn’t home.
