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“Oh, that’s how they got you,” I murmured and shut up at Irish’s dark look.
“How many of them were there?” Irish asked.
“Eleven. I shot one at the door. Then took out those three.”
“So, they’re seven down. Four left. Okay, stay here until I call,” Irish said, pulling a second weapon from her waist.
I barely had time to nod when Irish slid down the stairs, laying down covering fire. She’d moved that quick, I’d not even had time to ask for a weapon to protect myself. With the intent of providing as small a target as possible, I curled into a ball as a furious firefight erupted from downstairs.
I remained where I was with my eyes closed and my hands over my ears until someone touched me on the shoulder. Frightened, I lashed out with a cry and met the calm eyes of Irish.
“Shit’s done. Let’s get out of here,” she said softly. There was sympathy in her eyes as she reached down and helped me up.
“They’re all dead?” I asked.
“Yeah, and I owe you, Dana. You came for me. I won’t ever forget that.”
“Neither will Dylan. I might not have a job after he finishes yelling at me.”
“You’ll have a job. Hawthorne won’t be without the woman who manages his life. None of them will,” Irish said with a grin.
I didn’t disagree or agree but followed her as she stomped down the two flights of stairs. As we approached the doors, we heard bike pipes, and Irish shoved me back behind the door that led to the offices. She crept up to the door and hissed.
“More Fangs, another six,” she informed me.
Irish checked her weapons and ensured she had enough bullets. Moments later, I watched in disbelief as she stepped through the doors, firing rapidly. I couldn’t tell if there were return shots or not, but I did hear the squeal of a vehicle’s brakes and then silence.
“Where’s Dana?” Dylan’s furious voice shouted.
“She’s safe inside. That’s some receptionist you have,” Irish called out.
The sound of running footsteps met my ears, and the door burst open.
Max was the first one through.
I launched myself into his arms as London came after him. The drama left me in a flood, and I burst into sobs as Max folded me into his arms. I was safe. Irish was safe. Now, I could break down, and I did exactly that.
???
Ten minutes later, Max and London led me outside to Dylan’s car. There had been a full-scale shouting match between Dylan, Irish, and Rage, who’d arrived a few minutes ago. To say Dylan was pissed I’d been involved was an understatement.
Dylan was quite happy blaming Rage and Irish for my actions, while Drake was content bellowing they’d been rescuing Summer because they knew Irish would survive. Irish herself was shouting that she didn’t need rescuing.
And that set Dylan off again as he set eyes on me and the state I was in. Max and London tried to block the bodies lying on the ground from me, but I saw them. All of them were riddled with bullets, and several looked startled. They’d not expected Irish to greet them.
Max got me to Dylan’s car, and I sat in the passenger seat as several of Rage and Hawthorne’s also got involved in the fight.
Nobody seemed to be blaming me, and it was my fault, after all. I’d made the choice to go in. When I mentioned this to Max, he merely shook his head in amusement and said that Rage should have had Irish’s back. But I could see why they’d chosen Summer to save. Even the short incarceration that Irish had suffered would have broken Summer. She’d have been terrified. Rage had made the right choice, even though Dylan didn’t agree.
I was even more stunned when Slick arrived and checked Irish over before leaving again. The look on their faces spoke of feelings I’d not known about. And I wondered what the hell was going on. My understanding had been that Slick was involved with Summer, yet it was clear he and Irish had feelings for each other.
I was dozing when another vehicle pulled up, and I was shocked to see Chief Howser and Ramirez climb out. Sadly, I wasn’t close enough to hear what they said, but I did see the reactions of those around them. It had begun to rain again, which didn’t help matters, but I leaned out of the car and heard something that shocked me to my bones.
“Shove the bodies in the building. I don’t give a fuck where. And then burn this shithole to the ground. There’re no questions then,” Howser said grimly.
“And them being riddled with bullets?” Drake challenged.
“Make it a fuckin’ hot fire,” Howser said. He exchanged a glance with Ramirez, who was stone-faced.
