Chapter 27
twenty-seven
C old blue eyes flicked to me at the whisper of his name from my lips. His teeth ground against the rage consuming him as moonlight streamed in from behind him, accentuating the strain of his muscles. The hand pointing the gun at Angelo was steady, but Tristan’s voice shook with violence. “Let. Her. Go.”
“Don’t get trigger-happy on me, Malone.” I couldn’t see Angelo’s face, but I swore I heard the smug grin in his voice. His hands were rough on me as he secured an arm around my waist, taking advantage of my momentary surprise at Tristan’s arrival.
Tristan pointed his gun straight at my captor despite at least five of Angelo’s men having drawn their weapons and aiming at him, yet he didn’t seem to notice them. Or didn’t give a shit. “You broke your word.”
Angelo put his other hand at my throat, fingers splaying out, easily encircling my entire neck. “It couldn’t be helped. Besides, you broke our agreement when you brought her here.”
I yanked my head to the side, attempting to shake his grip off me. Each second he touched me, the revulsion churning in my gut doubled.
Tristan’s gaze shifted to me. “Are you okay?” he calmly asked.
Forgetting about the hand imprisoning my neck, I tried to nod, but the movement was quickly cut off by the pressure of Angelo’s fucking fingers. He kept his hold firm but wasn’t choking me. “Preston needs help,” I croaked.
Tristan didn’t acknowledge he heard me. His glower zeroed back onto Angelo. “Nobody fucking move. Only her. Is that clear?”
“You forget who makes the demands. I’m not done with her yet.”
“I got what you asked for.” Still pointing the gun at Angelo, Tristan reached into his back pocket and pulled something out…something so small I couldn’t see what it was. He tossed it to one of Angelo’s guys who caught it. A key. “I left the package in the storage unit. Give me what’s mine.” A growl built inside him.
Angelo laughed, his fingers twirling in my hair until a chunk of it was in his grip, causing uncomfortable pain in the follicles. “If you shoot me, one of my guys will put a bullet in your head. You’re screwed in this situation, Malone. Either way, she’s no longer yours.”
I whimpered from the tightening of Angelo’s fingers as he jerked my head back, exposing the long column of my neck. It made me wish those fucking fingers were still wrapped around my throat.
The muscle along Tristan’s throat pulsed, hammering hard as his eyes darkened, brows plunging. “I’ll take my chances.” That was my only warning —if you could even call it one. His gun discharged, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Angelo’s body jerked behind me. My ears buzzed like I had a nest of angry bees inside my head. I swore I heard someone bellow my name. The hand in my hair released me with a shove, and I stumbled forward, catching myself on the trunk of Preston’s car.
As I steadied myself, a mess of emotions popped off inside me like the Fourth of Fucking July. I noticed blood drops on the concrete. Although I couldn’t feel pain anywhere but my throbbing cheek and fiery scalp, I couldn’t be sure the blood wasn’t mine.
Then I glanced at Angelo, and a look of anger and disbelief distorted his pretty-boy face. He stared at his thigh where his black pants were wet, soaking with what I assumed was blood. Angelo’s gaze lifted, and he narrowed his eyes at Tristan. “You fucking shot me.”
Tristan’s composure cracked, and as I stared at him, I thought for the first time he could kill if it meant saving someone important to him. I was important to him. “I told you not to fucking touch her.”
Why weren’t any of Angelo’s men doing anything? I figured by now one of them would have shot at Tristan in retaliation and shit. Tristan had shot their boss.
Pressing back into the car, I glanced around the warehouse and blinked. Holy shit. Where did all these extra bodies come from?
Every one of them was armed, guns pointed in every direction. Some of them on Angelo’s men and others on the men I didn’t recognize, but the gun that concerned me the most was the weapon pointed at me.
Angelo might have been shot in the leg, but it didn’t impair his ability to hold a gun, and that gun was aimed at me.
What the fuck is going on?
“Boss?” Beefcake prompted, his finger on the trigger, ready to pull when given the word. If that happened, an all-out war would follow.
Tristan had brought friends. Perhaps friends was a stretch. Regardless, they looked mean and out for blood. The Crows’ blood specifically, but where did that leave me? In the crosshairs.
What about Preston?
And Tristan for that matter?
How did any of us come out of this fight alive? The sudden tension thickening the air was an undeniable premonition of bad things to come.
“You didn’t actually expect me to show up alone, did you?” Tristan cockily said to Angelo, ready to put a second bullet in him.
I trusted Tristan not to shoot me accidentally, but everyone else in the suddenly crowded warehouse…no fucking way.
“Chaos,” Angelo hissed, his eyes burning into the guy standing behind Tristan.
Chaos made Angelo look like a saint. He lacked all of Angelo’s refined nature and handsome features. I highly doubted Chaos was his given name, but it aptly fit him. Every inch of the six-foot-plus man oozed chaos. He wore a beanie on his head. I had an inkling if he took it off, he would be razor-bald underneath. What he lacked in hair on his head, he made up for in facial hair. His beard was so long he could have easily braided it.
“Angelo,” Chaos greeted with equal disdain, the two bosses sizing each other up.
“Your rival seemed a more fitting bet than the authorities. And we know how much you like a bet.”
“Let’s see if your gamble pays off, Malone.” That was all Angelo managed to get out before chaos erupted.
“Ever, down!” Tristan’s voice bellowed through the warehouse.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Guns went off in sequence as I hit the ground. My hands covered my ears, and I curled against a tire.
I’m going to fucking die.
I didn’t know what to do or where to go, but cowering and staying still was not it. Getting my body to cooperate was another obstacle. Somehow, I got on my hands and knees. I felt like a lost kid crawling on the ground in a crowd of strangers, praying I wouldn’t get trampled or shot.
Would this nightmare never end?
I couldn’t tell left from right, and I didn’t know if I was headed toward safety or going deeper into the pits. The next time Tristan wanted to leave me at a shitty motel, I wouldn’t argue. My ass was staying planted and making friends with the cockroaches.
The gunshots were deafening, reverberating in my head, but as much as I would love to crawl under a car and hide, I needed to get to Preston who wasn’t far from Tristan. Getting there meant walking through a minefield. I needed a way to get there that wouldn’t expose me, and I needed this great escape plan now before a whizzing bullet found its way into my flesh.
Holy. Shit.
The cars.
That was my light bulb moment.
I was already half under Preston’s car. It didn’t take much to shimmy myself the rest of the way, flattening onto my belly. This outfit was trashed. Like I was in a military combat simulation, I low crawled to the other side of the car, only a few feet from the next, but fuck me, if it didn’t feel like I had to cross a canyon.
“Ever!” Triston screamed.
Did he think I was twiddling my thumbs? What did he expect from me? To pop my head up and say here?
I did my best to crawl toward his voice. Feet scrambled around me from others using the cars as shields. It looked like I wasn’t the only one with the same idea…kind of. I was the only one underneath them.
The shots continued to go off but with less chaos and more controlled precision. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
I couldn’t think beyond the need to keep moving, but even that didn’t last long.
A hand snatched my ankle, and the small ground I’d gained under the following car began to vanish. “Where do you think you’re going, sugar?” Angelo asked, hauling my ass toward him.
Uh, fuck no.
I wouldn’t end up in this bastard’s clutches again. I used my other foot to kick out like a wildcat, hissing and clawing. One of my blows hit him in the face hard. Blood squirted from his nose.
“You bitch,” he cursed, his fingers releasing me to touch his face.
I wasted no time, scrambling away to the other side. A pop went off behind me, the bullet ricocheting off the tire rim, missing me, thankfully. I made it under the next vehicle, a truck, leaving me with more headroom but also more exposed. And I wasn’t alone.
A ribbon of fear lanced in my chest, and I prepped to fight, but the guy hiding with me didn’t flinch. He didn’t move at all. And then I felt something warm and thick on my fingers. I knew before I glanced down what it was.
Blood.
Stifling a scream, I rushed out, scooting backward from under the truck using my feet.
“Ever?” Tristan loomed above me, glaring down at me with serious brows.
Needing to see he was unharmed, I quickly scanned him. I wouldn’t let myself feel relief. Not yet. I learned from the last time that shit could still hit the fan, and I had no time to relax, but seeing him did conflicting things inside me. “Tristan.” I sighed before he hauled me to my feet, sweeping me into his arms.
His arms were strong and steady. He wouldn’t let me fall. He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt me. And he most definitely wouldn’t let me go. “You’re okay. You’re not hurt?”
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, clinging to him as if I couldn’t believe he was real. For seconds—hell, maybe it was minutes—all I could do was stay in Tristan’s arms as mayhem and panic swirled around me. His arm remained tight on me as the dust began to settle, and with it, the world returned. The ringing in my ears receded, but little could be done about my heart pounding in my ears until we were far from danger. People still ran around chaotically despite the bullets having ceased firing.
Someone charged at Tristan with a deep, animalistic cry expelling from his open mouth. Tristan twisted, protecting me with his body, as he raised his gun, striking it on the side of the guy’s head. The attacker’s mouth remained dropped, but the growl halted. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he face-planted to the ground.
Tristan pulled back, his fingers coming to frame my face, one of them still holding the gun, the cold press of metal grazing my skin. His touch was gentle but steady as he captured my gaze and held it.
“Get in the car, Shortcake,” he ordered. “Do you hear me? I want you to run to the car. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Get in and lock the doors.” It wasn’t just his voice that pleaded. His eyes. His hands. His entire body begged me to listen.
“What about?—”
“Now!” he thundered.
Urgency snapping inside me, I scrambled out the door, dashing into the crisp night. I didn’t stop to take the long breaths my lungs were greedy to consume but ran straight toward the headlights beaming through the dark. The Mustang’s engine idled where the car sat only steps from the door I’d burst out from.
Using my hands to steady myself on the car’s body, I fumbled the passenger door open with trembling, clumsy hands as Tristan emerged from the building, dragging a stumbling Preston…more like carrying him. Preston wasn’t doing much, his legs barely lifting, head hung to his chest.
Leaving my door open, I darted around the car to help Tristan. He scowled at me but didn’t complain when I opened the door for him and pushed up the seat to the back. It took effort, but Tristan got his brother situated in the back seat. Groaning, still partially out of it, Preston lay across the two seats.
Before I could step away, Tristan took my chin, angling my face side to side as he inspected me.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “We need to get Preston medical help.”
The pad of Tristan’s thumb ran over my chin. “He’s lucky he already had the shit kicked out of him.”
“Tristan,” I scolded at the implication he wanted to do more than smack his brother for his part in what happened tonight.
“He involved you. That’s unforgivable.” His hand dropped from my face, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “I never should have let you come. I should have left you at the hotel.”
I closed the distance he put between us, hating the guilt in his eyes. “You don’t think Angelo’s men could have found me there? Alone? It would have been worse then.”
His hands moved to my waist as his forehead pressed gently to mine. He took a needed deep breath. “We should go.”
As much as I wanted to stay in Tristan’s embrace, this wasn’t the appropriate time. We needed to get away from here, and Preston needed a hospital. Neither Tristan nor I could relax until a doctor assured us he would recover.
Tucking my hair behind my ears, I nodded and stepped out of his arms. We wasted no time jumping into the car. With an unsteady hand, I tried to click my seat belt into place as Tristan’s foot slammed onto the gas. The Mustang’s tires squealed seconds before the car lurched forward, speeding toward the opened gate. I finally managed to click my seat belt into place as we crossed onto the road, the warehouse growing distant behind us.
Despite being out of danger, my heart continued thumping wildly in my chest. I couldn’t seem to settle. I was half afraid Angelo would give chase. He wouldn’t forgive Tristan for double-crossing him. There would come a time when he would see retaliation, but I couldn’t think of that. Not now. Not tonight.
My fingers twisted in my lap, knees bouncing, and I kept glancing over my shoulder to check on Preston. The one thing I didn’t want to do was relive those memories in the warehouse. Too fresh. Too raw. Too soon.
Tristan reached across the seat, taking my hand and weaving our fingers together. “You’re okay. Preston will be okay,” he assured with such conviction he left no room for another alternative. His confidence was what I needed.
I squeezed his hand.
The car’s headlights cut a path through the dark, and the only sound was the hum of the engine and the irregular breaths we were still catching. Adrenaline thrummed through my veins, mixing with something even more intense.
Tristan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to make sure we weren’t followed. I sat beside him, curled slightly in the passenger seat, my hand resting on his arm. My fingers trembled, and I knew he could feel it through his sleeve.
The streetlights swept over us in quick, flashing intervals. Tristan drove at rule-breaking speeds to get his brother to the hospital, where Preston was admitted and treated. It took hours to get him seen, patched up, and admitted for at least the night. Perhaps two.
There were questions. And police. The answers were the tricky part.
But Tristan and I agreed on the drive that we wouldn’t say anything about the warehouse or Angelo. He didn’t want me involved, and the less we told the police, the safer we’d be. Giving up Angelo’s name would only put a bigger target on our backs. It wasn’t just Angelo we had to worry about but the entire Crow crew.
That was a problem I didn’t need.
So once Preston was safe inside, I made myself scarce, hiding out in Tristan’s car until he was finished speaking with the cops and giving his statement.
If the hospital parking lot hadn’t been packed with cars, well lit, and busy despite the late hour, I would have been a wreck sitting in his car alone, but that didn’t mean I still wasn’t nervous as hell. I’d locked and checked the doors at least a dozen times.
But no one came after us.
No one showed up to drag me back to the warehouse.
And with each passing hour, I grew a little less afraid. I even fell asleep for a short period, my weary eyes unable to remain open any longer. I was fucking tired.
When I opened them again, sunlight streaked through the front windshield. Curled on my side into a ball, I stretched my legs and turned my gaze to the driver’s seat. Tristan was there, watching me.
His head rested on the back of the seat, his blue eyes brightened by sunlight. Shadows darkened under his eyes.
“Hi,” I greeted, giving him a soft smile. I wanted to erase the seriousness in his features.
Frowning, he reached over and brushed a piece of hair off my forehead. “You need more sleep.”
“I’m not the only one. Have you slept at all?”
“I will later.”
We were still in the hospital parking lot. Raising my arms over my head, I stretched my back before sitting straight. There was no chance I would go back to sleep now, not knowing Tristan was back. He needed to rest but wouldn’t do so while we sat outside exposed.
“Preston?” I inquired.
“In agony, but the idiot will live.” Affection and relief edged into his tired tone. Despite his words, Tristan had been worried.
“What did you say to the police?” I asked, concerned if Tristan or Preston might be in trouble. Tristan might be no stranger to a night or two at the police station, but Preston wouldn’t survive an hour. Never had to, thanks to his brother.
At some point, everyone in Preston’s life had to stop covering for him.
Tristan gave a half-hearted shrug as if his shoulders couldn’t muster anything further than the least amount of effort. “Just that he was jumped by some guys. That I didn’t see it happen but found him nearly unconscious.”
“Do you think they’ll investigate?”
Tristan started the engine and reversed out of the parking spot. “Doubtful. Preston isn’t looking to press charges or file a complaint.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “What happens next time? Won’t Angelo just beat him again? How do we know he won’t kill Preston?”
As he drove toward the exit, his jaw tensed. “We don’t, Shortcake. But Preston’s going to have to do his part and stay away from the tables. No more gambling.”
“And if he can’t?”
Using the palm of his hand, he turned the wheel, taking a left onto the road. “I have a guy.”
“What does that mean?” I complained, uncertain if I should feel good about this guy or worried. I’d seen the people Tristan associated with.
“Someone who will watch Preston. Make sure he stays out of trouble,” he replied.
“Like a bodyguard?” I said, trying to put the idea into perspective.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Or a babysitter.”
I frowned, peeking in the back seat at the blood spots staining the leather. “Tristan. This isn’t funny.”
“Trust me, Shortcake. I’m not laughing. You don’t need to worry. Angelo has what he wants.”
Then why was there a shadow of concern he was desperately trying to hide? “What about you?”
A long yawn escaped him. “I do now.”
I glanced out the window, seeing the shopping centers pass by. We were headed in the direction of campus. “So, we’re not going back to the motel?”
We stopped at a traffic light, and he hit the button to put down the top of his car. The wind twirled the ends of his hair. “I decided we should check out.”
My lips twitched. I was surprised, after everything that happened, I could find humor in anything. “What a bummer. I was so looking forward to sleeping with the cockroaches.”
“Well, if your heart is set on it, I’m sure one night won’t?—”
I tossed my head back, enjoying the sun and warm breeze on my face. “Go fuck yourself, Tristan,” I said with a grin.
He fought the smirk crossing his lips. “You have such a mouth on you. Good thing it’s so pretty.”
The banter was easy. Dealing with what happened was the difficult part, and I didn’t know if I would ever fully compartmentalize all the details.
We pulled in front of Thorn Hall just as my mind slid one of those details I could never understand into place. The photos Tristan took of me on his phone. It never made sense to me…but now, knowing what Preston was doing, who he had gotten involved with… I unfastened my belt and turned to Tristan before he could turn off the car. “That’s why you took the pictures of us. Why you blackmailed me.” My voice shook slightly. “You were protecting me from Angelo and his crew because of Preston’s involvement with them. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Silence.
He didn’t face me…not yet, but he turned the key, killing the engine.
The pieces finally started to fall into place. “You made me break up with him to put distance between Preston and me so they wouldn’t use me as leverage.”
“A lot of good it did,” he mumbled, all the confirmation I needed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His head hit the back of the seat as he angled his face toward me, our eyes finally connecting. “Because you would have stuck by his side. You would have put yourself in danger—protected him. It’s what we do.”
He was right.
My mind flipped through the memories, the hurt and pain resurfacing, everything I thought I would lose if those pictures got out. Now it seemed insignificant, but his reasons didn’t excuse his behavior. “You didn’t have to be such a dick about it.” Then again, if Tristan hadn’t pushed me…if he hadn’t forced my hand, I would probably still be stuck in a relationship. I wouldn’t know how Tristan felt about me. How far he was willing to go to protect me. I wouldn’t know how much I loved him.
I might have told myself I could be casual with Tristan, that I wouldn’t lose my heart to him, but it couldn’t be helped. I’d already been half in love with him before it started. And now…
He quirked a brow. “And miss the opportunity to see you naked? I couldn’t pass?—”
I leaned over the seat, sealing my lips over his before he could finish.
“Shortcake,” he growled with a completely different undertone than he had all night, and this time when I shuddered, it was the best fucking feeling in the world.
And I only wanted to be in one place.
In his arms. Preferably behind a closed door with a bed nearby.
“Take me to your room,” I whispered.