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I stepped forward, my hands held up in surrender. Stephen had a gun buried in the ribs of the woman I loved. There was no chance she could survive a point-blank shot. The weight of my gun pressed against my back, tucked into the waistband of my jeans. But if he killed Alexandra, I wouldn’t need it. My bare hands would be enough.
Tank used his body as a shield, directing diners out the door or behind the counter and through the safety of the kitchen.
“You look like hell,” I told Stephen.
His face was riddled with black and purple bruises. The swelling had gone down but not by much. Blood pulsed from the neat line of holes in Stephen’s neck where Alexandra had stabbed him with the fork. It wasn’t enough to wait him out until the blood loss kicked in though.
“Don’t mock me, asshole,” Stephen spat. “I’ll pull the trigger.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I put a bullet in you. I can put a bullet in her too.”
“You hired someone to shoot me,” I countered. “You didn’t have the satisfaction of shooting me yourself.”
Given enough anger, I knew Stephen would gladly shoot me. He would probably shoot Alexandra too and blame her for it. He looked like a man unraveling, his control slipping, his eyes wild. He wasn’t stable. Predicting his actions would be difficult at best, nearly impossible at worst.
I beckoned to him with my fingers.
“Come on. You’ll have to kill me if you want me out of the picture, prick,” I said. “Because if you hurt her, I won’t stop until you’re dead and buried.”
Stephen bared his teeth. He shoved Alexandra to her feet, staying close behind her.
“You can bait me all you want. But I’m getting out of here. And I’m taking my bride with me,” he said through clenched teeth.
He started backing up toward the door. Alexandra met my gaze, panic in her eyes. I dipped my head in a small nod in reassurance. I wasn’t letting him take her anywhere.
I drew my pistol and aimed it at Stephen.
“Do you really want to do that?” Stephen asked in a mocking tone. He tucked his face into Alexandra’s neck, glaring at me. “You might shoot your whore – ”
The words were barely out of Stephen’s mouth when I fired. His kneecap exploded in a spray of blood. Tank yanked Alexandra away, exposing Stephen.
I fired again. And again. His body jerked with each bullet, a fresh stain of red blooming on his white shirt.
Then his body hit the floor, unmoving.
Chapter Eleven
Two hours later, I was safe and quiet in my own home again. Ever since the diner, Brewer hadn’t stopped touching me – his palm resting at the small of my back, his arm encircling my waist, brushing his knuckles against my cheek, pulling me into his arms all over again.
He guided me into the bathroom, turning on the shower before he faced me. He touched my arms and hair where remnants of Stephen’s blood still lingered.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice a rough rasp.
I nodded, sinking into his touch and resting my cheek against his chest. I’d been terrified that Brewer would get killed because of me. Everything had happened so fast and now that the shock was wearing off, the exhaustion settled heavy and thick over me like weights on my ankles, dragging me down.
“What were you thinking?” Brewer demanded softly. “Going to meet him alone…did you have a death wish?”
I shook my head. “I just wanted it to be over, Brewer. When you were shot…I’ve never been scared sick like that in my life.”
Brewer heaved a sigh and tightened his arms around me. I felt him shift as he ran his hand under the shower’s spray, testing the temperature. With a kiss to my temple, he reached for the hem of my shirt.
“Water’s warm,” he said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I let Brewer strip away my clothes and guide me into the shower. He undressed and followed after me a moment later. My shower was not the roomiest place in my apartment but I didn’t mind being crowded by Brewer’s bulk in the small space.
He retrieved the bar of soap from the dish, lathered up his hands, and gently washed away the blood from my skin. When his fingers skimmed over the bruise at my ribs, I sucked in a breath. The skin was tender, a circular purple shape blooming already from the muzzle of Stephen’s gun. Brewer’s gaze dropped to my ribs and his gaze darkened.
