Chapter 20
Colt
Ten minutes later, we’re packed, Denver’s hand is in mine, and we’re leaving the room. Taf is in the hall and raises his attention from his phone before tucking it into his pocket.
“Alistair just called,” he says. “The cars are downstairs.”
“Cars plural?” Denver asks as we wait for the elevator.
Taf nods. “Same make and model, same plates. They’ll each go to a different location to make sure you’re not followed.”
The lobby is lined with men, six on each side, as we take quick steps to the exit. I can’t enjoy the cool air as we make it to the sidewalk, the three cars waiting.
“We should really split up,” I tell Denver, and her returning glare tells me what she thinks about that. I open the back door for her. “Have it your way, Mrs. Harland.”
“And I always will,” she whispers, flashing me a sweet smile as she gets into the car.
Taf goes to round the car to get in, but I shake my head. “You need to take another. Not one of these.” I gesture to the decoys.
My friend doesn’t hide his hurt. “Colt, I’ve protected you since we were kids.”
“I know, and they know how much you mean to me.” I squeeze his shoulder, hating myself for pushing him away. “Let me protect you now.”
“Colt—”
“I can’t lose you, too,” I say, fighting the urge to let him have his way, because he has protected me as far back as this life goes for us. He’s always been by my side, fighting for or with me. “Charlie and Cain’s men can protect us—and now they’ll protect you, too.”
The tenseness in Taf’s shoulders doesn’t ease, but he nods. “I’ll take one of the other cars.”
I gesture at Danny, one of Charlie’s seasoned men, and he gives me a quick nod before approaching the car. I get into the back seat beside Denver, and she takes my hand.
“I can’t believe the one night—”
Taf’s voice booms through the street. “Down, down, down!”
I grab Denver and push her head down as bullets thud into the car.
It’s an endless barrage of metal against metal, the reinforced vehicle holding strong, the glass whitening under the pressure but staying firm.
I hold Denver to me, and she clings to my hand. “Seconds,” I whisper to her, my mouth close to her ear. “Seconds and it’ll stop.” She nods quickly, eyes squeezed closed.
The bullets do stop, but a screech of tires, of numerous cars, tells me this isn’t close to over.
“Drive!” I say to Danny.
“We’re blocked in,” he says, taking out his weapon. “Stay here.”
He’s barely opened the door when his blood spits across the interior of the car. More shots follow, and Denver shouts my name as I lean into the front seat. Danny’s lifeless body is slumped forward, and I shove him out, closing the door, his blood soaking my clothes as I sit in the driver’s seat.
The door reopens, and I grip the handle, snapping it open with force. It smacks into whoever was trying to get in, knocking them over, and I slam it closed again, securing the lock.
The vehicle in front of us darts away, giving us room to move, and I slam the car into drive. “Seat belt, Del.”
Tires screech against the road as I peel out of the space, slamming into one of our gun-wielding assailants as I do. He bangs into the side of the car, his body colliding with the sidewalk.
“What about everyone else?” Denver asks.
“My focus is you,” I say, and frown as she climbs into the front seat. “I said seat belt.”
“Sex night is officially over,” she says, settling into the passenger seat. “You’re not in charge anymore.” I don’t hold back my look of disapproval, and she flashes me a grin. She glances over her shoulder. “They’re following us.”
My gaze flicks to the rearview. “Sounds about right.”
I weave in and out of the other cars, taking any street that won’t get us stuck in traffic. The city lights blur as I accelerate, taking a corner at speed. Denver clings to the handle above the door while keeping an eye on our pursuers.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Not home,” I say, trying to calm the thundering of my heart as we inch farther away from the busy city streets. The quiet both helps and hinders, but I refuse to get stuck in a line of traffic and have them advance on us.
We hit the highway, the late hour meaning the cars are few and far between.
Denver opens the glove compartment and takes out a gun, loading it.
I eye her, brow arched. “What’s the plan?”
“Pew pew,” she says, her eyes feral with delight as she puts the window down.
I laugh as she angles herself out of the window, her red hair whipping around her, one hand gripping the back of the seat, the other aiming.
She fires, the casing kicking back and disappearing in the wind.
She keeps firing, and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes on the road when she looks like she does.
In total control. Almost giddy in her power.
My dick is officially hard.
“Oop!” She ducks back into the car and grabs the back of my neck, shoving me down, too. Thunderous, continuous popping batters the car, hundreds of bullets slamming into the metal at once. “Automatic rifles? What the fuck?” she squeaks. “This is hardly a fair fight.”
She releases my neck, and I pull off the highway, and Denver is jolted, her back hitting the car door. “Ow.”
I wince. “I did say seat belt.”
She smooths her hair back, frowning. “Warn me. And do you know how to use a turn signal?”
“Not my priority right now.”
I weave, take corners, and eye the rearview as the cars behind us fall farther behind. Denver watches, too, and I take a few more turns before pulling into an alley and stopping the car.
Silence cloaks us, and we wait.
“That was my first car chase,” Denver whispers breathlessly, her eyes darting from the end of the alley and back to me. “Not as fun as I thought.”
“You looked like you were having a great time,” I say, pulling out my phone and dialing Taf. “You good?”
He sounds breathless. Irritated. “It’s a mess, but yeah. Where are you?”
“No clue,” I say. “They followed us, but I think we lost them. We’ll wait here for a few minutes then head out.”
“Where?” Taf asks.
I honestly don’t know. Going home is a huge risk. They could have decided that it’d be in their better interest to get to the safe house.
“I’ll figure something out. Is Alistair on it?”
“Yep. Be careful, both of you.”
Once the call is over, we wait a few minutes before setting off again. As I ease the car out of the alley, Denver slumps into the seat, her head back, eyes closed. I grip her thigh, squeezing gently. “You okay?”
“Adrenaline,” she whispers. “I’m shaky.”
“We’re safe,” I say. “We—”
Lights beam between us.
Another car hits my door.
My head cracks into the window. Metal screams, groans, sparks.
We’re pushed down the street by whoever hit us, rubber dragging against tarmac.
Pain splits my skull, and I blink, warmth running down my face, the faint smell of iron filling my nostrils. Pressure builds against my legs, the driver’s side crumpled, pieces of metal buried deep in my thigh. Deep, too deep—
“Denver.” I push through the pain, the confusion, the sound of car doors opening and slamming closed. Denver is slumped against the passenger side door, not moving.
I try to move. To get to her. But pain sears through my thigh, metal pinning me in place.
The edges of my vision start to blur.
Tiredness sweeps across me. One so familiar. A pull to quiet, to peace, to darkness—
But terror has my senses snapping into sharp focus as figures approach the car. I twist as much as I can, looking for the gun, but Denver’s door is already being opened.
She almost falls out, but the man who opened the door catches her.
My heart races and I stare at him, not needing him to speak to know that he isn’t here to help. I try to move, to pull the metal free from my thigh, but he’s already lifting Denver into his arms. Panic spears me sharper than the shards in my leg.
“Leave with her and I’ll end you,” I say. “And not just you. Your family. Your friends. Every fucker you’ve ever met will die if you take her!”
His grin only widens. Denver’s head lolls backward, her body limp in his arms.
“Say bye-bye, Ghost.”
He walks away, and I roar. My mind becomes awash with the kind of fear I’ve felt before—of inescapable loss.
Of feeling more helpless than I ever have.
Of watching someone I love be taken from me.
My skin peppers with heat, the fear and panic becoming a living fucking presence in my body that threatens to swallow everything I need to survive whole.
No. I won’t lose her. I can’t.
I wrench my leg free.
The pain is blistering, overwhelming, and rivets of blood spill across my legs. My skin chills, but I drag myself to the passenger seat, falling into the street, my skin sopping with red. I’m unsteady on my feet but still snatch the gun from the footwell.
But he’s already in the back of his car with her.
I fire.
Again and again.
The gun feels light in my hand.
Useless.
White blurs my vision, and I drop to a knee.
No.
They can’t take her.
They can’t—
They