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“Fallon actually taught me,” Tam explained. His attention was locked onto the hood of the car, as if he found it riveting. I didn’t take offense to his lack of eye-contact. With Tam, any conversation at all was a small blessing. I watched his finger tap against his legs, a break in his normally timid front.
He tapped the same pattern continually as he talked.
“He knew I needed to learn a skill, something to make me valuable to the team.” Tam shrugged as if it was no big deal, but his eyes sparkled with affection for the team leader. “He became the big brother I never knew I needed.”
I smiled gently.
“I’m happy that you got your family,” I said, tentatively placing my head on his shoulder. He stiffened momentarily before his muscles relaxed. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“These guys are my brothers, and you are...” he trailed off.
“Your sister that isn’t a sister?” I suggested coyly. He snorted.
“A sister that isn’t a sister,” he agreed. Before he could say anything else, there was the sound of a gun going off. Ironically, I hadn’t been familiar with that particular sound until the last few days.
Now, it seemed to be the only constant in my chaotic life.
Tam immediately pushed me to the ground; his lean body covered mine.
I tried to tell him that I didn’t need or want his protection. I tried to remind him that I wasn’t made of glass.
Instead, all I was aware of were pinpricks of terror running through my veins and making me incapable of speech.
The rest of the boys had been standing near the entrance of the hotel, away from us and the van. Through my sprawled position on the ground, I could only see their feet.
And... more feet?
“Put your hands where I can see them!” a strident, unrecognizable voice demanded. “Let me see your fucking hands!”
I didn’t know what was happening, but I think that was a blessing.While half of me wanted to run to their rescue, the other half of me noted how futile that endeavor would be.
Especially since I didn’t know what I was up against.
Tam finally rolled off of me, motions silent, to peek around the side of the van. He let out an inaudible cuss before putting a finger to his lips.
“Is this all of you?” The new voice demanded.
“Yes.” Ryder. I would recognize his husky voice anywhere.
“Grab the backpacks off of them,” someone demanded, and I heard what sounded like a struggle.
“Stay on the ground or else I’ll shoot you!” The first voice screamed, and I winced, praying that the boys would listen.
If someone was holding a gun to you and demanded that you stay on the ground, you stayed on the fucking ground. If you pee your pants, more power to you.
Ignoring Tam’s glare of protest, I popped my head around the wheel of the van.
My breath left me in a whooping rush.
My boys sat on the ground, their hands raised in the air. Each one looked livid as they surveyed the figures above them. Even Tommy was scowling, though I’ll be the first to admit that he looked more like Barney on crack than anything remotely scary. His hand was still absently petting Mof.
The men - and from their large stature and broad shoulders I assumed they were in fact all men - stood around the guys, each holding a gun. They had white masks obscuring their features and wore all black clothing, the stereotypical bad guy attire. I counted at least six of them.
Great. Just fricken great.
After the last backpack was roughly grabbed from Fallon’s shoulders, the leader - Red Eyes, I coined him in my head based on his painted mask - turned his attention towards Mof.
“And what is this sweet thing?” he cooed, reaching down to pet the kitten. Mof, like the perfect cat he was, hissed and burrowed himself further into Tommy.
