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Maddoc curses, and I gasp, then clamp my jaw closed and take aim again, firing at anyone and everyone with a gun pointed our way. Over and over and fucking over, until Maddoc finally drags me back to the SUV and shoves me inside.
“The roof is starting to collapse.” He turns and shouts back toward his people, “Fall back! Everyone out!Now!”
I don’t know how they hear him over the chaos of gunfire, smoke, and shouting, but they do it. Dante drags the guy who went down from that stray bullet into one of the other vehicles, and Logan dives behind the wheel of our car as Maddoc covers me with his body in the back seat.
Sirens sound in the distance, and neither Maddoc nor Logan say a word as we peel out and careen out of the parking lot, driving deeper into Reaper territory. I shove Maddoc off me and twist to peer anxiously out the window. “Dante?”
“He’s in Vic’s ride,” Maddoc answers, his voice clipped. “Got Kyle with him.”
That must be the guy who was shot. Shot because Austin felt empowered by all the money I gave him access to. Shot because my bullet threw that fucker’s aim off.
I start to shake, and Maddoc hauls me against him, the smell of smoke and gunpowder almost overpowering. “Stop it,” he says sharply, grabbing my chin. “We’re here. We’re alive.”
I nod.
His jaw clenches as he stares at me, then, with the smallest twitch of his lips, he murmurs, “This is where I get to be the overbearing asshole and you thank me for it. You’re not allowed to imagine what if. Stop. We’re here, and we’re alive. That’s the only shit that matters right now. We’ll deal with the rest in a minute.”
I nod again, but this time, I mean it. I can’t go down that what-if rabbit hole or let any kind of guilt take hold. Austin did this. He’s to blame. And everyone I care about made it out safe, which really is all that matters right now.
We pull up at another nondescript warehouse, and Maddoc gives me a short, sharp nod, then flips into leader mode. He’s out of the SUV in an instant, his shoulders subtly relaxing once he’s counted the other vehicles that tear into the lot and accounted for all his people.
Dante is standing near a low-riding car that has one side riddled with bullet holes, helping bandage up a young guy who looks vaguely familiar.
“Just got grazed, boss,” the guy calls out to Maddoc with a tired smile. “You should see what the weasel I took down looks like.”
We head over there, and Dante nudges Maddoc. “It could’ve been a lot worse. Those weren’t McKenna’s—”
“I know,” Maddoc interrupts, cutting him off sharply.
“That wasn’t West Point?” someone asks, all the Reapers starting to gather around.
“It was,” Maddoc says, his face smoothing out. “McKenna is escalating, so we’re gonna have to get a step ahead of this. Before we talk about how, I need a report on injuries and losses.”
A few of the smoke-streaked men who must have been working in the warehouse when it all started step up, and they quickly rattle off details that go over my head. Grim ones, based on Maddoc’s expression, but at least they confirm that despite some injuries, none of the Reapers are dead.
I can still see that Maddoc is fucking pissed, despite the calm facade he puts on for his people. The stress shows in that telltale jaw muscle and the tension in his shoulders, but I can’t help but admire how he holds it together and focuses on making sure his people are okay. It sounds like the loss to the Reapers’ business is going to hurt, but that’s not Maddoc’s people’s fault, and he makes that clear.
It’s no wonder they’re so loyal to him. It’s exactly why I love him too.
“How are you doing, princess?” Dante asks softly as Maddoc starts to wrap things up after reviewing the gaps in their protection that allowed the attack through.
I lean against Dante, accepting his arm around my shoulder.
“Better now,” I tell him honestly, only half listening as the men around us get their orders from Maddoc about coordinating with Logan to fortify their territory even more.
Dante squeezes me, pressing a warm kiss against my temple, then herds me into the SUV as soon as Maddoc dismisses everyone. It’s not until we’re pulling back into the garage at the house that I realize that the low thrum of tension that accompanied us on the silent drive home is about more than just the aftermath of the attack.
“We gonna talk about this?” Dante asks when Maddoc kills the engine.
Maddoc gives him a look I can’t decipher, but gets out of the vehicle and heads into the house without a word.
“What’s going on?” I ask as Dante and Logan exchange a look.
“Come on, princess,” Dante says instead of answering me, pulling me into the house with him.
Maddoc is in the kitchen, pacing.
“You cut me off back there, but you know I’m right,” Dante says without preamble. “Those weren’t McKenna’s men.”
