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He reacts immediately, shoving me down behind the couch as he levels his gun at them. He fires off two shots, diving out of the way as they return fire. He ends up behind the large chair set off to one side of the couch, taking cover behind it and shooting toward the intruders again, trying to keep them pinned down near the doorway.
My pulse jackhammers as I struggle against my clothes, which are still twisted up around my ankles.
We’re under attack.
The men haven’t let me leave the penthouse in days, and Olivia clearly got tired of waiting for me to emerge and sent someone in after us. More thanonesomeone. There are three of them, which means we’re outnumbered.
“Willow, stay down!” Ransom calls, firing again. I can’t see what’s happening near the door, since my view is obscured by the couch, but I hear a crash and then heavy footsteps. Two more shots cut through the air, and then a masked man appears around the edge of the couch.
He raises his weapon, pointing it right at me.
Time seems to freeze for a second as I look down the barrel of the gun—and then another shot rings out.
I flinch, braced for the pain and the impact… but there’s nothing. His gun falls to the floor, landing with a heavy thud, and he follows it a second later, crumpling to the carpet like a sack of rocks.
More gunshots are punctuated by shouting voices, and then the room goes quiet, leaving only the sound of my blood rushing in my ears.
“Motherfucker,” someone curses.
I almost weep with relief at the familiar voice.
Malice.He and Vic are back.
31
VICTOR
As Malice bites outseveral more curses beside me, I glance around the room, taking in the scene quickly.
Willow is partially obscured by the couch, with the man who was about to shoot her lying dead in a heap a few feet away. Blood spreads across the cream colored carpet, staining it a deep crimson.
The other two men are down too. Ransom got one of them, and Malice took out the other while I shot the bastard who was gunning to kill Willow. Fury lances through me at the memory of him standing over her, and even though I know it’s pointless and will only make more of a mess, I stride forward quickly, put my gun right to his temple, and spatter his brains across the floor—just to be goddamned sure he never gets the chance to touch her again.
“Shit,” Ransom says, panting hard as he tugs his pants back into place. “Thank fucking god you two got back when you did. Guess it was a good thing you were speeding.”
It’s almost a joke, since we all know exactly why Malice was driving so fast. He drove like a maniac because he wanted to get home and fuck her senseless, not because he thought he’d show up to find Ransom and Willow fighting for their lives.
But nothing about this is funny, so no one laughs.
Instead, Malice kicks the body of one of the downed men, clearly needing to let out his extra adrenaline and aggression somehow.
“What the fuck happened?” he snarls.
His anger is bright and fierce, and even though I’m usually more collected than he is, I feel an answering rage in my chest. This place was supposed to be safe. We increased security, set up alarms. But three people got in and almost managed to kill Ransom and Willow.
“Your alarm worked, Vic,” Ransom says, flicking a glance my way. “They got into the building, but we had warning before they reached the penthouse. It was enough to keep us alive. We would’ve been sitting ducks otherwise.”
“Olivia. This has to be her doing. She got impatient when Willow wasn’t coming out, so she sent these fuckers to do her dirty work and break in here. This bitch wants her money that bad.” Malice shakes his head, scowling down at the body of the attacker nearest to him.
I step over the man I just shot and go to Willow, reaching out a hand to help her up.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
She swallows hard, nodding. I’m glad my alarm system gave them some advance warning, but it’s clear that the whole thing happened fast. She and Ransom didn’t even have time to get dressed before these assholes came bursting in on them. Her pants are around her ankles, and I reach down to tug them up, helping her get dressed as she clings to me. I can feel her hands shaking, and when she exhales, the breath seems to shudder out of her lungs.
“I… he was just…” She tightens her grip, staring at my face as I deftly zip up and button her pants. “He almost killed me, Vic. He would have if you hadn’t…”
“I know,” I tell her, my voice tight. “But he’s dead now.”
