28. MADDOX #3
He kisses her deeply, and I just lean back against the bike, letting them have their moment, until Hunter pulls back and glances at me. “You know she handles this thing better than you do.”
I just stare. The fucking audacity of this man. “Your tongue was just down my woman’s throat, and you have the nerve to say that to me?” I say with a scoff, shaking my head. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing.”
Lyra laughs and looks back at me, a dazzling smile tearing across her face. “He’s right, you know?” she teases. “But if you’re not sure, I’m down for a little friendly competition.”
“Oh,” I laugh, locking my arm around her waist and yanking her back into me. “It’s on.”
I go to kiss my girl just as a piercing squeal cuts through the night, the sound loud enough to drown out the approaching sirens. My head snaps up, always ready for a threat, when I see Lyra’s favorite bartender, Danielle, racing out of the bar through the shattered window, her gaze locked on Dean.
“Holy shit,” she screeches, racing right into his arms and almost knocking him over before immediately smacking his chest. “Are you insane? What the hell was that?”
Dean just grins, his arm locking around her waist as Marcus discretely steps away. “Baby, you think I was about to stand back and do nothing? Not when you were inside that bar.”
Tears well in her eyes as she looks up at him. “You stayed and did all that because of me?”
“Why the fuck else would I be here?” he says to her, the adrenaline of the fight giving him the balls to finally confess what everybody apart from her could already see. “You’re the only reason I’m here every night, just waiting for the moment your shift ends so I can walk you to your car.”
She slowly shakes her head, trying to understand. “You’re lying.”
He takes her chin, holding her stare. “It’s always been you, Dani-girl.”
She whimpers, but before she gets a chance to say another word, Dean kisses her, and she instantly melts into his hold, kissing him back.
Marcus steps up beside the bike, his stare locked on Lyra.
“Alright, you ready to tell me how the fuck you know how to fight like that, why you have semi-automatic rifles hidden inside the bar, and why the two assholes you’re dating are capable of slaughtering an army of armed men blindfolded? ”
She winces, and looks up at Marcus with those big doe eyes, feigning innocence. “Would you believe me if I said I just took a few self-defense classes and figured it was in the bar’s best interest to have weapons on hand, you know, for protection?”
“No chance in hell,” he murmurs, his gaze shifting to me and Hunter with curiosity before dropping back to Lyra. “They love you?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“They’d never hurt you?”
“No, but if they tried, I’m more than capable of putting them in a shallow grave.”
“Okay,” he finally says with a nod, appearing content with her answers. “That’s all I need to know.”
The sirens get louder, the red and blue lights starting to reflect off buildings around the corner. Lyra cringes and glances up toward Marcus and Dean. “You guys should take off. I don’t want you copping any heat for this.”
Marcus lets out a rough laugh and shakes his head.
“Heat’s coming our way whether we were here or not.
That’s just how it is when you live like we do.
” He jerks his chin toward the approaching siren.
“As for you, darlin’, you should already be gone.
We’re the security here. My gun is legal, and all this shit was self-defense.
As far as I’m concerned, these dead motherfuckers brought the rifles and just didn’t know how to fucking use them. ”
Dean nods, his arm locked around Danielle’s waist. “You went home hours ago. We’ll keep the cops off your scent. If those cameras were on, I’d suggest you handle that footage.”
Something softens in Lyra’s expression. For all her attitude, all her threats, all the walls she keeps around herself, these men have always looked out for her, protected her, and had her back, even in the face of the DeLuca family.
A smile tugs at her lips. A real one that touches her eyes, the kind she rarely lets anyone see. “Thank you.”
Marcus nods and then points down the road. “Go, Lyra.”
For a moment, nobody moves, and I glance around.
The street is littered with the aftermath of a war that lasted only minutes. Smoke hangs thick in the air, blood is spilled across the wet pavement, along with scattered bullets and shattered glass. It’s a mess, but it’s a mess we survived.
The sirens scream closer as Lyra nods and twists the throttle.
My bike roars to life, and I wrap an arm around her waist as she launches us forward, the city lights blurring into streaks around us while the night rushes past. Behind us, Marcus and Dean grow smaller in the mirrors, already moving to intercept the approaching police.
A second later, another engine erupts to life. Deep and powerful.
Hunter’s Challenger.
I glance back just in time to see Hunter tear out onto the street, headlights cutting through the darkness, and Lyra pulls back on the throttle, waiting as he falls in behind us before slicing through the night once again, the three of us moving as one.