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Heavy footsteps draw closer on the hardwood floor, and I push Aria behind me.
“Stay low,” I whisper and tap her shoulder until she’s crouching on the far side of the room. I step forward, using Aria’s butt-ugly armoire as cover.
“Fuck!” someone whisper-shouts from the hall. The intruder is a male and sounds American. But it’s not Geoffrey Morgan. Or whatever his name is. Not any of my men, either.
Whoever he is kicks the door open and takes aim at the bed, two shots straight into the sheets. Aria sucks in a breath, barely audible, but he still turns toward the sound. A shot rings out, hitting the lamp inches above Aria’s head.
I lunge forward and raise my arm, bringing the butt of the gun down on his forearm with a sickening crack. Nobody goes after my woman.
“Fucking nobody,” I growl as he crumples to the ground.
This fucker’s got speed and scrambles to his feet the second he hits the floor. He stumbles back a step, and even though his face is covered by a mask, I can tell he’s in pain. Still, he swings at me.
But I dodge it and return with a swift one-two punch to his gut. He doubles over, and I slam the butt of my gun into his back. “Stay down, asshole!”
Despite the pain, he struggles back to his feet, grunting the whole time. He takes another swing, misses, then shoves me hard.
I stumble back against the armoire and watch the intruder. His gaze darts to me and then over to where Aria is—thankfully—still hiding.
He tries to bolt, and I fire off two shots. One misses, but the other hits his shoulder, taking him down.
With him on the ground, it’s time to unmask our midnight visitor. My gun is firm against his forehead as I yank off his mask. Even in the scant moonlight, the face is unmistakable. It’s Birmingham, the corrupt ATF agent Morgan was investigating.
He knows something.
Before I can react, he sucker punches me, sending me falling to my back with a grunt. It gives him enough time to get away, and as soon as I recover, I squeeze off two shots. I’m pretty damn sure one hits his shoulder.
I hear him hiss, “Fuck!” under his breath.
Birmingham didn’t break into the Morgan mansion in the middle of the night for no reason. If he was after intel, he would have started downstairs, searching for Morgan’s office or secret hiding place, but he didn’t.
He came for Aria.
“Lucky?” Aria's voice wobbles.
“I’m here, Princess. I’m fine.” I lie. I’m not fucking fine at all. “Pack a bag.”
“Where are we going?” She's trembling, and I don’t blame her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. She’s got a million questions and I have zero answers right now.”
“Someplace safe, Aria. That’s as far as my plans have gotten so far.”
I know exactly where we’re going, but I’m in no fucking mood for an argument.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Aria
Someone tried to kill me tonight.Lucky hasn’t confirmed it and the truth is that he’s been pretty quiet since barking at me to pack a bag, but I’m not naïve, and I don’t need him to say the words out loud.
“All set?” Lucky stops a few inches in front of me, his dark brows tugging into a scowl.
I nod even though the last thing I want to do is leave the safety of my own home. Yeah, I know. Right now, it doesn’t feel all that safe, but still, it’s all the home I have. “I think so. Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yes.” His gaze lingers on my face and down to my lips, but his expression is totally unreadable. “The one place I know I can keep you safe. The clubhouse.”
My shoulders sink. First, a crazy person breaks into my home and clearly takes two shots at me, and now I’m going back to a building full of people who hate me. “Just like high school all over again,” I mutter to myself. Only back in those days, they also feared me, so no one fucked with me.
