Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
H arlow pressed her palm flat to the door as Easton threw the car into another hard turn.
Her throat tightened, a scream struggling to break free.
Easton’s face was hard and focused. He weaved them around another car.
“No one is crazy enough to come after you,” she cried.
“Someone’s crazy, or desperate.”
She looked back through the rear window. The big, black SUV roared closer.
Her pulse skittered. This was all her fault. She should never have dragged Easton into this. He could crash his gazillion-dollar car, he could get hurt, or worse.
Her chest locked. The thought of Easton hurt was inconceivable.
The car ahead of them slowed, its brake lights glowing red in the darkness.
Easton slammed on his brakes. She looked back, and saw the SUV bearing down on them.
“Easton!”
“Hang on.” He jerked the wheel. They swerved onto the wrong side of the road.
Harlow gasped. The headlights of an oncoming car blinded her.
Then Easton whipped them around the slow car and back into their lane. Horns blared behind them.
She looked back and saw that the SUV was stuck and she grinned, but a second later, it forced the car in front of it to the side of the road. The SUV sped toward them.
“They’re still coming!” Then she saw a man lean out of the SUV passenger-side window, with something in his hand. “Oh my God, they have a gun!”
“Get down,” Easton growled.
She ducked down and then heard bullets ping off the car.
“Oh, my God, oh, my God.” She slid lower in the seat.
Easton swerved and turned down another street. She saw him stab at the dash.
“Yeah.” Vander’s deep voice came through the speakers.
“Got a black SUV shooting at us,” Easton said.
Vander cursed. “We’ll track you. I’m coming. Saxon and Rhys aren’t far away, either. Hang on.”
Easton turned again.
Harlow looked out the window and gasped. “Easton, cable car!”
He gunned it, speeding through the intersection, just in front of the cable car.
They raced down the hill.
Her heart was hammering like a drum. She looked back and couldn’t see the SUV anymore.
She let out a shaky breath.
Suddenly, another SUV shot out a side street ahead of them.
“Look out!”
He slammed on the brakes and swerved. The Aston cut across the street and slammed into a parked car.
Harlow screamed. Metal crunched and glass shattered. There was a loud thump and she was violently thrown forward, face hitting the airbag.
Then suddenly, everything was still. Her ears were ringing, and her chest hurt where the belt had dug in. She blinked, trying to clear her head. She shoved the airbag out of her way.
“Easton?” She swallowed and turned her head.
He was slumped forward, not moving.
“Easton.” Oh God, blood was running down the side of his head. The windshield was smashed, and bits of glass glinted in his black hair.
“Please, be okay.” Frantically, she unclipped her belt and reached for him. Her hands were shaking. “God, Easton.”
He had blood over half his face. She touched his cheek and he moaned. Relief shot through her. He was alive.
“Easton—”
Her door was yanked open. Gasping, she spun in her seat.
A man reached in, gripped her arm, and dragged her out.
“Let me go!”
He was a big guy, stone-faced, with a bald head and a thick beard. He yanked her away from the car. Fear was slick and oily inside her, and she tried to pull away from him.
With a grunt, the man smacked her in the side of her head.
She saw stars and staggered. Jesus . She fought to think through the pain.
Then anger hit her. Easton was hurt. These assholes had chased them and made them crash. And they’d shot at them.
With a cry, she kicked the man in the leg.
He cursed.
Harlow kicked again, this time aiming between his legs.
She got lucky, with perfect aim, and she felt something squish. Ew .
The man made a strangled sound and bent over.
Harlow backed up. The man straightened and pulled a gun from under his jacket.
She froze. Oh, shit . Her heartbeat was a roar in her head.
“You’re coming with me, even if I have to put a bullet in you,” he growled.
“Who the hell are you?” she cried.
“Shut up.”
Car tires screeched nearby. She heard shouts.
Gunshots echoed through the night.
With a cry, Harlow ducked. The man threatening her shouted and clutched his chest. He crashed to the ground.
She spun.
And saw Antoine’s creepy cousin, Hugo, walking toward her, gun in hand and a smirk on his face.
Fuck . She took a step back.
Hugo fired.
The bullet whizzed past her. Her chest was too tight for her to scream.
“You’re mine now, pretty bird.”
“Back off, asshole,” a deep, male voice said.
Easton .
She turned her head. He stood on the other side of the Aston, gun in his hand, and aimed right across the roof at Hugo.
He looked terrible, with blood covering the side of his head, but he seemed steady.
“Put the gun down,” Easton said.
“Fuck you, Norcross. She’s coming with me.”
Easton fired.
Hugo ducked and swiveled. Then he lifted his gun, aiming at Easton.
“No!” Without thinking, Harlow leaped at Hugo. The gun fired.
Everything moved like molasses. Pain seared across her arm.
“Harlow!” Easton roared.
She fell backward and hit the ground. She blinked and everything came back into focus.
She heard more gunshots. Saw people running.
Then she heard the roar of a motorcycle and saw the sleek, black bike screech in. Rhys Norcross leaped off, gun in hand.
Then Saxon and Vander sprinted into view.
Easton dropped down beside her.
“Dammit, Harlow. What the fuck were you thinking?” He pulled her coat open.
Red blood blossomed all over her white shirt, and bile rose in her throat. “That I didn’t want him to shoot you. That I had to protect you.”
Easton froze, staring at her for a beat.
Then his hands tore at her shirt. “Hold on. I’ve got you. You hold on, Harlow.”
* * *
Easton fought back the panic making his heart hammer against his ribs.
He tore open Harlow’s shirt, conscious of Vander barking orders at the others and securing the scene.
When Easton had seen Harlow jerk and go down…
Fear tasted really bad. He was so damn terrified. He’d been in too many firefights to count with the Rangers. He’d seen so many good soldiers die from bullet wounds, bodies ripped to shreds.
He remembered trying to save a new Ranger who’d been shot in a nasty firefight in Iraq. Simon had been young, idealistic, and he’d died in Easton’s arms.
Watching Harlow fall…
He got her shirt open and saw her wound. The air shuddered out of him.
“Is it…?” She swallowed. “God, how bad is it?”
“It’s—”
“Tell me the truth, Easton.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing her eyes closed.
“It barely nicked you.” The relief made his head swim.
Her eyes popped open. “What do you mean?”
Vander appeared out of the darkness, his face tight. “She okay?” He looked down, and his body relaxed. “Barely nicked her.”
Harlow sat up. “I went down. I’m bleeding everywhere. It can’t be a nick.”
“Baby—” Easton fought back a smile at the indignation on her face.
“It also hurts. A lot.”
Vander made a noise suspiciously like a snort.
Easton pulled her close, and pressed her coat against her arm to staunch the blood flow.
“The bullet grazed your arm.”
“That counts as shot, right?” she said.
“Sure.” He was just damn glad she was alive. He held her tighter. “You never, ever jump at a man holding a gun again.”
“I couldn’t let him shoot you.”
Fuck . He’d been shot at a lot, even taken a bullet twice, not that he’d ever tell her, but what Harlow had done for him… It undid him.
“You see a gun, you run in the opposite direction.” He tipped her face up and kissed her. “Or I’ll spank your ass red.”
She gasped, and damn if she didn’t squirm a little.
Then she cupped the side of his face. “You’re bleeding.”
“Broken glass from the crash. “
“You’re all right?”
“Yeah.”
“My arm really does hurt,” she murmured.
“I know. I’ll get you to the hospital. You might need stitches.”
“ No , I don’t want to go to the hospital. It’s just a nick.”
Now it was just a nick?
She glanced around. “I just want to go home. Be safe.”
“Baby, you need to see a doctor—”
“I hate hospitals, Easton.” She gripped him. “I hate them.”
He saw the fear in her eyes.
“Baby?”
“My mom had several bad miscarriages. We spent a lot of time there. And my grandmother died in the hospital. I just don’t like them.”
He tugged her closer.
“At the hospital…everything’s out of your control,” she whispered.
“Okay, baby. It’ll be all right.”
“Hunt incoming,” Vander said.
Easton watched as the unmarked police car pulled up. Hunt slid out, and strode toward them. He was in jeans and a black shirt with his badge on his belt.
He eyed the wrecked Aston, then looked at the men Rhys was standing over. One of them was bleeding from a gunshot wound.
“You guys okay?” Hunt asked.
“I got shot,” Harlow said.
Hunt’s face hardened, his green gaze going to where Easton held the coat on her arm.
Easton ran his tongue around his teeth. “Nicked.”
“A bad nick,” she added.
“Hence why we need to go the hospital.”
“No.” She leaned into him. “You have a big first aid kit at home. Please.” She kissed his jaw.
Shit . He was a goner.
“I’ll call Ryder,” Hunt said. “He isn’t working tonight and he’s in the city. He can be here quickly.”
Ryder Morgan was Hunt’s brother, who was a paramedic, and also donated his time at a free clinic in the Tenderloin.
Ryder had also been an Air Force combat medic, not to mention, Vander used him for off-the-books treatments, if any Norcross guys got banged up, and didn’t, or couldn’t, go to the hospital.
Easton nodded. “Thanks.”
Hunt made the call. Several police cruisers screeched to a halt. Hunt directed the uniforms to deal with crowd and traffic control.
“Guys over there likely belong to Rhoda Pierce.” Vander nodded at the kneeling men. “And Hugo Durant was here.”
“Antoine Armand’s nasty piece of work cousin?” Hunt asked.
Harlow shuddered. “He’s the one who shot me. He tried to shoot Easton.”
A muscle ticked in Hunt’s jaw. “Now I need to know what the fuck is going on.”
“Talk to Vander,” Easton said. “I need to take care of Harlow.” He lifted her and carried her toward a Norcross SUV. Saxon appeared and tossed a set of keys at Easton.
“Scarlett?” Harlow called out.
“She’s safe,” Saxon said. “How about you worry about you right now, sweetheart?”
She nodded at Saxon and then turned her head, her gaze catching on the ruined Aston. “Oh, Easton, your car.”
“It’s just a car.”
“A really expensive car.”
He opened the passenger door of the X6 and set her down.
“I can replace it.” He cupped her cheek. Damn, his hand was a bit unsteady. “I can’t replace you.”
“I’m okay, Easton.”
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson about attacking men with guns.”
Her gaze met his, strong and steady. “I’d do it again.”
He felt those words deep in his gut. “Harlow—”
“I heard someone got hit and needs patching up,” a deep, gritty voice said.
Easton glanced back over his shoulder and then heard Harlow gasp.
The man standing there looked like a darker, edgier version of Hunt.
He had a long, rangy body, a lot of scruff across his hard jaw, and light-brown hair in need of a cut.
He had the same green eyes as his brother.
He was in black jeans, with a tight, black Henley, and a battered, tan-leather jacket.
He was holding a large, black bag in one hand.
“I got shot,” Harlow said.
The newcomer raised a brow.
“Nicked,” Easton said.
“It’s bleeding, a lot,” Harlow said. “And it hurts, a lot.”
The man’s lips twitched. “You find yourself a little wildcat, Norcross?”
“Yep,” Easton replied.
Harlow sniffed. “My name is Harlow.”
“And I’m Morgan. Ryder Morgan.” Ryder set the bag down, and Easton stepped aside to let him treat Harlow.
“Wow, you look like Hunt, but different.” She cocked her head. “You look like Hunt decided to go undercover, or turned to the other side of the law.”
Ryder’s lips twitched. “You are a sassy one.”
Easton crossed his arms. “She has no problem telling people what she thinks. Even her boss.”
Ryder raised a dark brow. “You work for him?”
“Temporarily.”
“I want to know, does he ever sleep?”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Yes.”
Ryder laughed. “Well, Harlow, I can assure you that I pay all my taxes, and I’m a law-abiding citizen.”
Easton snorted.
Ryder grinned and snapped on some gloves. “Hey, skirting around in the gray doesn’t make me a criminal.” He reached for Harlow’s arm. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” He looked at her shoulder, pulling her shirt down to bare her bicep. “Nick.”
Harlow rolled her eyes.
“It’s pretty bad as far as nicks go.” Ryder was still grinning. “It might need a couple of stitches.”
He started cleaning the wound and Harlow winced. Easton grabbed her hand.
“Didn’t you duck fast enough, Harlow?” Ryder asked.
“She didn’t duck,” Easton said. “She ran at the guy with the gun.”
Ryder shook his head, putting some ointment on the crease. “Why would you do something that stupid?”
“He was going to shoot Easton.”
Ryder’s hands stilled. “You jumped a gunman to protect Norcross? You do know he’s a former Ranger, right?”
“I don’t care if he’s Iron Man. He was in danger and hurt. That’s all I saw.”
Shit . Easton’s throat was tight. He squeezed her hand and their gazes met.
“Goner,” Ryder murmured under his breath. “Okay, Harlow. I’m going to numb the area, then give you a few stitches. I promise you my best work.”
She dragged in a deep breath. “Okay.” She squeezed Easton’s fingers harder. “Don’t let go.”
“Never.”