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His cute little Volvo crashes right into the gate at the house we were heading to, buckling it and sending us both flying forward in our seats. The airbags deploy and his horn won’t stop fucking blaring. I see fucking stars for a second and struggle against the belt that won’t come undone.
“You good?” I cough and cut through the thing keeping me locked into place.
Simon doesn’t move and for the first time in the history of knowing the fucker, I actually worry that he might be dead. I shake his shoulder and his head falls.
Oh shit,June is going to kill me.
But I let out a sigh of relief when he turns toward me, blood trailing from his forehead to his chin.
“You’ve seen better days,” I tell him.
He spits blood onto his dash. “I told you it was going to hurt.” Beckett unbuckles his seatbelt and shoves his door open. “I can’t fucking move. My leg is pinned.”
“God damn it, Beckett.” I pull myself across the back of the car and exit on his side. There’s no telling how quick security will get here and if we don’t want to die within seconds of forcing entry onto the property, we need to fucking hurry.
“You act like I got myself stuck on fucking purpose.” He pries at his leg but it doesn’t budge.
I yank open his door and fumble around with his ankle. “I am way closer to your dick than I’d prefer.” I smash my face into the side of him to get a better angle on his foot. “Got it.” I pull a little too hard and when his foot pops free, he falls out of the fucking car and on top of me, caging me onto the ground.
“Listen, I know I’m tolerating you right now, but this is not what I had in mind.” I shove him off of me.
“For a second there it was almost like you had a sense of humor.” Simon dusts his pants off and reaches for the knife I had given him. “Where’s that box?”
I grab it from the back seat and hand it to him. “What did you have in mind?”
“Pure. Fucking. Chaos.” Simon reaches in and pulls out a grenade, handing it to me and taking the other one that’s tucked in the box with it. “You know how to use one of those?”
I roll my eyes. “This isn’t my first fucking rodeo.”
“You’ve got about three to five seconds max to get rid of that thing. Don’t cook it too long or it’ll blow your fucking arm off.”
“I told you I was fine.”
Beckett limps from the car and crouches behind a bush. “We need to get the fuck away from here.”
"Follow me." I take off in a zig-zag pattern toward the house, stopping periodically to assess my surroundings.
A group of men wearing all black and sporting assault rifles runs toward the smoking car at the gated entrance.
“Think you can chuck that thing that far?” I ask Beckett.
“I played football once.” He yanks the pin free and sends the grenade flying through the fucking air. It bounces along the ground near the car and explodes a couple seconds later.
Some of the men are hit but from the smoke and debris floating about, I can’t tell exactly how many.
"How long until we have backup?" Beckett glances over at me.
“Depends who’s driving.” I shrug. “Could be ten minutes.”
"That's too much time." He sighs and scratches his lip with his teeth. "Here's the plan." Beckett points to the grenade still in my grasp. "We're going to find her, then you're going to throw that and buy me enough time to get her free. You can cover us."
“The fuck I will.”
Beckett steadies my shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes. “Coen. You are a better shot than me. And you are June’s first love. Do you understand me?”
I narrow my gaze. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Losing you once turned her into a cold-hearted bitch. What do you think is going to happen if she loses you again?” Beckett shakes his head. “Not letting that happen.”
