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More like pops.
But sheknewwhat they were.
Fire slashed across her forearm.
Sydney didn’t think. She just…jumped. Toward whoever was closest.
Toward Pen. Trying to get Pen out of the way somehow. “Run, Pen. Go!”
The van door opened. Men in black outfits jumped out.
At least six of them.Six.
The guards were down. Bleeding. Another set of pops. More pops. Sydney turned.
Gerard. He was down.
No.
Not Gerard.
Not Gerard.
She looked into his beautiful green eyes and knew… She would never forget the expression on his face before he slumped to the ground, hand still clutching his weapon. He just kept watching her.
But the gun fell from his hand.
She pivoted. Those men—they were coming right at them. Intent.
And they weren’t stopping.
They wantedPen.
They had to want Pen and they were killing to get her now.
They wouldn’t run this time. There were three times as many. And they had guns not knives.
Sydney kicked out. Connected. They were yelling something.
About curly hair.Curlyhair. That was her. Or Jo-Jo.
Not Pen.
One shooter went down right in front of her. A man just fell.
Dead at her feet.
Sydney kept screaming at the top of her lungs.
There were people somewhere. Help. There had to be help somewhere.
“Get the one with curly hair!” the biggest one yelled.
“Which one?” another man yelled. “There are two!”
“It doesn’t matter! Just grab one of them, and then get the blue-haired girl; he’ll pay for both if he knows what’s good for him!” another yelled.
“The curly brunette’s been hit! Leave her! She’s not worth a damned dime now!” another goon yelled.
