28. Jackson
JACKSON
Ilounge in one of Ryker's office chairs, half-listening to Marcus's report on our latest weapons shipment. My mind drifts to Aliyah. That woman is going to be the death of me with her sharp tongue and secrets.
The door opens and Naya steps in, dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse that is so at odds with the causal outfits I'm used to seeing her in.
"There's my angel." Ryker extends his hand and Naya crosses to his side. He pulls her close, his steel-gray eyes softening. "How was lunch?"
"Good. Aliyah sends her regards." Naya shoots a pointed look my way. I stare at my phone, pretending to check messages. Not that Aliyah has answered me, but I know Antonio has picked her up.
Marcus snorts. "I'm sure she does." He gives me a knowing look and adds, "You think Antonio is missing?"
"Shut the fuck up," I growl, my fingers tightening on my phone. I know that Antonio isn't stupid enough to mess with my girl, but I don't like the insinuation.
Ryker and Naya are already lost in some conversation between each other that I can hardly hear. Not that I care. Now that I know Aliyah is done with lunch, I'm ready to get home.
I stand, stretching my six-foot-three frame. My shoulder holster shifts under my suit jacket. "Speaking of winning, I should head out. Got that thing tonight."
"That thing wouldn't happen to be a party, would it?" Naya raises an eyebrow at me. That must have been Aliyah's excuse earlier.
I throw her a wink as I leave, Marcus following with a knowing smirk. Thankfully, he doesn't follow me as I head out.
My jaw clenches as I stride through Ryker's mansion. Even with Antonio taking her home, I can't shake the unease. Those fuckers who tried to grab her are still out there.
My footsteps echo across the marble floor as I head for the garage. My black Aston Martin gleams under the lights, but my mind is on a certain stubborn woman who thinks she can handle everything alone. She has no idea I've been watching through Ryker's cameras, making sure she's safe during lunch.
I slide behind the wheel, the leather seat cooling my anger slightly. But only slightly. Someone wants her dead, and they'll have to go through me first.
The evening traffic crawls through Manhattan.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, my mind replaying the way Aliyah's eyes flash when she's angry.
The way her lips curve into that knowing smirk.
Fuck. I need to focus on finding whoever's after her, not on how she feels pressed against me at night.
My phone buzzes. Antonio's name lights up the screen. Before I can answer, movement catches my eye. Two blocks ahead, a black SUV swerves across lanes. The sound of metal crunching metal splits the air.
My heart stops. That's Antonio's car spinning into the guardrail.
"No." The word tears from my throat. I yank the wheel, cutting across three lanes. Horns blare. I don't give a shit.
The Aston Martin fishtails as I pull onto the shoulder. Both vehicles sit mangled on the road - Antonio's sedan crushed against the rail, the SUV's front end destroyed. Steam hisses from both engines.
My hands shake as I throw the car in park. This isn't random. The SUV deliberately rammed them. And I'm willing to bet it's the same fuckers who tried to grab her before.
And Aliyah's in that car.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I scan the scene. A flash of movement near the SUV. Dark figures emerging.
I reach for my gun, cold rage replacing the panic. They're not taking her. Not while I'm breathing.
I sprint toward the SUV, my gun already drawn. Two men in black tactical gear wrench at the back door of Antonio's car. The taller one has a knife. The shorter one reaches inside.
"Get the fuck away from her." My voice comes out lethal, steady despite the rage coursing through my veins.
They spin, weapons raising. I don't hesitate. My first shot takes the taller one in the throat. He drops, gurgling. The shorter one fires wild, bullet whizzing past my ear.
I dive and roll, coming up behind the SUV's front bumper. The acrid smell of leaking coolant fills my nose. Steam hisses from the crushed radiator.
"Come on out." The remaining guy's voice shakes slightly. "We just want the girl. This doesn't have to get messy."
A harsh laugh escapes me. "Too late for that."
I peek around the bumper. He's using Antonio's car for cover, gun trained in my direction. Amateur. His stance is all wrong, weight too far forward.
"Last chance," he calls. "My employer-"
I surge up and forward, closing the distance before he can squeeze off a shot. My shoulder slams into his chest. We crash against the car door. His head cracks against the frame. The gun clatters to the pavement.
He throws a wild punch. I catch his wrist and twist until bones snap. His scream cuts off as I drive my knee into his solar plexus. He doubles over, gasping.
I grab his hair, yanking his head back. "Who sent you?"
He spits blood. "Fuck you."
The rage takes over. I slam his face into the door once, twice. On the third hit, his body goes limp. I let him crumple to the ground.
Sirens wail in the distance. I yank open the back door, heart hammering. Aliyah lies across the seat, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead. But she's breathing. She's alive.
"Angel?" My hands shake as I check her pulse. Strong and steady.
Her eyes flutter open, those light brown irises focusing on my face. "Tough guy." Her voice comes out raspy. "Took you long enough."
Relief floods my system, quickly replaced by fresh anger. If I'd been a minute later...
I slide my arms under Aliyah, lifting her from the wreckage. She winces but doesn't make a sound - stubborn as always. Her body trembles against my chest despite her attempts to hide it.
"I can walk." She pushes at my shoulder, but her movements are weak.
"Shut up." I tighten my grip, scanning the area. More sirens approach. We need to move.
Antonio groans from the driver's seat, blood matting his dark hair. "Jackson, I tried-"
"Later." I shift Aliyah to one arm, reaching in to haul Antonio out by his jacket. He stumbles but stays upright, pressing a hand to his head.
"Your car." Aliyah's fingers curl into my shirt as she spots the Aston Martin. "It's blocking traffic."
"Fuck the traffic." I stride toward the car without a care, Antonio limping behind us. The evening air carries the scent of gasoline and blood. Curious drivers slow to stare. Perfect fucking witnesses.
I ease Aliyah into the passenger seat. She hisses when her head touches the leather.
"Stay still." I press my fingers under her jaw, checking her pupils. They dilate properly, but the cut on her forehead still bleeds.
She bats my hand away. "I said I'm fine."
"And I said shut up." I yank off my tie, pressing it against the wound. Her sharp intake of breath sends fresh rage through my system. Someone tried to take her. Again.
Antonio collapses in the back seat, muttering Italian curses. I slam his door and circle to the driver's side, my shoes crunching over broken glass.
Blue and red lights flash in the distance. I rev the engine and peel onto the shoulder, cutting between stopped cars. Aliyah's hand finds my thigh, squeezing tight as we accelerate.
"They knew where I was." Her voice comes out tight. "How did they know?"
I cover her hand with mine, feeling the slight tremble in her fingers. "We'll figure it out." And when we do, I'm going to kill every last one of them.