Chapter Thirteen
Blade
T exting and walking, the brunette didn’t notice my rented Tahoe or the Ford Explorer with tinted-out windows coming up on her six.
Going too goddamn slow, straddling the middle of the street, the Explorer got within ten meters of the brunette.
I reached for my Sig.
Then its back windows went halfway down and muzzles came out.
Automatic fire started spraying the street.
The brunette froze, and I floored it.
Jumping the curb as the Tahoe took fire, I slammed on the brakes, leaned over, and threw the passenger door open. “Get in!”
The brunette looked at me with wide-eyed shock.
“ Get the fuck inside .”
She dove. Headfirst.
I grabbed the back of her tank, hauled her ass all the way in, then threw the SUV into Reverse and gunned it off the curb.
Shots stopped hitting the SUV, and I braked. “Close your door.”
She sat up.
“ Jesus fucking Christ , woman.” I shoved her back down. “They’re still firing. Grab your door. Grab your door .”
Her arm shot out, and she yanked the handle.
The door slammed shut, I threw the SUV into Drive, and we were halfway through a three-point turn on the narrow street when another Explorer turned onto the block.
A new fucking halo of gunfire rained down around us.
“Stay down!” Already reversing, I gunned the engine and backed into someone’s driveway.
Following the first Explorer, the second unleashed on the entire block, but both concentrated on a brown house down the street, spraying the place with enough automatic fire to destroy the stucco and shatter every window.
Thirty seconds later, it was dead quiet.
I quickly scanned the shaking brunette who was folded in half in the passenger seat. No blood. “You good?”
“Is it over?” Raspy and fucking sexy, her voice hit different.
“For now.”
She sat up.
Cheeks flushed, dark wavy hair everywhere, pretty face, huge brown eyes, and giant tits. She was a fucking smokeshow up close. “You hurt?”
“Um.” She glanced down at herself. “No.” She looked up at me and blinked. Then her voice became a whispered rasp. “You?”
“Negative.” Not taking my eyes off her, I tipped my chin toward the destroyed house down the block. “This happen often?”
“I don’t know.”
She was fucking young. Too young to be stumbling out of a bar in Liberty City, then walking back to Little Havana by herself. “You don’t live here?”
“Do you?”
Attitude. Evasiveness. Shrewd. Not panicking. I fucking reassessed my first impression of her. “Smart.” She grew hotter by the second.
“What?”
“Answering a question with a question. Smart. And no, I don’t live here.” I scanned the street. Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Then what are you doing here?” She glanced at the house attached to the driveway I was parked in. “Visiting?”
She smelled like alcohol, sweat, and woman. The SUV smelled like gunpowder. For half a second, I contemplated telling her that I’d seen her coming out of that bar. “Something like that.” I wondered if the alcohol was dulling her reaction to the drive-by or if this was her usual disposition. “Cops will be here soon.”
She shrank in her seat. “Shit.”
“Not a fan?”
She glanced out her window. “Are you?”
“Depends.”
She looked back at me. “On what?”
Her. “You need to get out of here?” The sirens got closer. A few residents came out of their houses.
“Um.” She glanced at a row of parked cars, half of them riddled with bullet holes. She bit her bottom lip.
“One of those cars yours?”
Drawing in a deep breath, she scanned up and down the street, then looked at me and gave me her dark-eyed stare for a beat long enough to know what she was thinking.
What all women on the make who looked at my ink, stature, and uniform thought.
I raised an eyebrow.
Her expression instantly went south. “Yeah.” She blew out her breath and shook her head. “Thanks for the save, but sorry about your SUV. And those were definitely some kind of driving skills.” She reached for the door.
“Wait.” I stepped on the gas. “Not my house. Not my driveway. Hang on.” I pulled onto the street as the first police car turned onto the block.
She freaked. “ Cops .”
I quickly pulled to the curb, threw the SUV into Park, and cut the engine. “Anything I need to know, tell me now.”
“Would it matter?”
Christ, there was something about this chick. “You need an exfil?”
She glanced at me, then toward the back seat. “No.” She looked back at the police. “I just don’t want to… get involved.”
“With drive-bys, gangs, or in general?”
“Yes,” she stated, watching as two more police cars turned onto the street.
“If I pull away now, we’ll probably escape unnoticed.”
“Probably?” She looked behind us.
“They’ll grab my plates. Won’t affect you.” But it’d be a good test to see how proficient November was at covering my tracks.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll take my chances on foot.” She reached for her door again.
“Not a good idea if you don’t want to be seen.” I clocked the flashing lights against the dusk in my rearview mirror. “Cruiser coming up on our six. You open your door now, the overhead light will go on.” I didn’t offer to disable it.
She looked behind us again, then at the cops ahead who were canvassing on foot. “Great.”
Out of my fucking mind, I made her an offer. “Wait it out here. We’re parked. Sun’s down. It’s dark. No one will notice us. When the cops are done canvassing, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
She scrutinized me. “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”
I knew she’d been with a blonde at a bar my brother had been at, my instincts were on overdrive, and I didn’t believe in fucking coincidences. Every second she sat there, I was more convinced she’d been heading for the pink house when the drive-by happened. I didn’t think the shootings were connected to her, Church or the house, but I was kicking myself for not catching the plates on the first Explorer. More, I was fucking pissed I’d dismissed that blonde.
But I had the brunette.
Add in the fact that she’d been drinking but wasn’t hammered, the adrenaline of the drive-by, her aversion to cops, the look she’d initially given me, and I had the perfect recipe.
I wasn’t going to get this woman more off her game and susceptible to interrogation unless I fucked her.
Hedging my bets, I played an open hand. “I saw you earlier. You and a blonde came out of a bar in Liberty City.”
Instant fear coated her expression. “You followed me?”
“No.” I paused a beat for effect. “I was looking for someone. He goes to that bar.”
Narrowing her eyes, she gauged me like I was gauging her. “So, why are you on this street?”
“Didn’t find him. Was driving home. Bullets started flying. Saw you. The rest you know.”
She stared for a full beat. Then instead of asking where I lived, she leaned back in her seat and slouched down. “Okay. I’ll stay until the cops leave.”
I tipped my chin in acknowledgment, then went in slow. “What’s your name?”
“I’m not really into that.”
For two seconds, I forgot about my brother.
Hell, I forgot about the blonde, the drive-by, Alpha, November, the entire fucking shitstorm I’d been choking down since the call as my head filled with this woman. She was too goddamn young for me, too spun up, and fuck if she wasn’t sitting on a mountain of issues. All of them red flags.
But goddamn, I wanted to fuck her.
“You’re not into names.” Christ . That alone made my cock semihard. Her tits and ass did the rest.
She shrugged. “It’s more like what comes with it when you know someone’s name.”
A fucking female version of myself.
Jesus .