21. Drake #2
I was going to bury my head between her smooth perfect thighs and suck her swollen pretty pink clit into my mouth and when she came, I would drink her and make her taste herself on my tongue when I kissed her again.
An annoying chime began playing somewhere in our surroundings.
Helen must have recognized the sound, because she snapped away from me and removed her cell phone from her skirt pocket.
Irritation at the poorly timed interruption flashed through me before the anxiety in her eyes sent a chill through my blood.
“What’s wrong?”
“All points of entry of my house have been reinforced. So, I know we’re perfectly safe here,” she said, speaking more to herself than me. “The gate is the first line of defense, and I have extra security. We’ll be fine.”
Shooting up to my full height, I grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Helen, what is happening?” Each word gritted through my teeth. She winced.
“My security alarm went off.”
Dread gripped me by the back of the throat, threatening to throttle me.
I quickly released my wife to clench my fists at my sides, hiding the enraged tremor in my hands.
A harsh hiss of air escaped me as I turned to pace the room.
The dark afternoon sky outside her bedroom windows and French balcony doors gave an ample view of the decent-sized backyard and newly built, suspiciously tall fence surrounding her property.
Dark figures raced through the shadows, aiming for the side yard that I assumed led to the front nearest the driveway. Her private security was leaping into action to meet whatever threat had appeared.
“Someone knows you returned home and sent them here again.”
“It seems so.” Her voice was surprisingly calm. The last attack on her house made me think another ambush would unsettle her, but when I glanced at my wife, she was standing tall and smoothing the wrinkles my hands left in her dress.
Poised even when incensed, like a provoked viper.
“Stay here,” I said.
“No,” she snapped.
“Monty, I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”
She lifted one finger and jabbed her manicured, wine-red nail into the center of my chest. “You’ll save that for later. Drake, if you ever, ever dare to give me orders again, I’ll cut out your tongue.”
“You like what I do with my tongue, though.”
“Don’t whine.” She rubbed her temples. “Bordel de merde! If these masked fuckers don’t leave us alone, I swear I’m going to have an aneurysm.”
Monty jerked the door open, and I followed on her heels, quickly overtaking her before she reached the stairs.
I whirled around on the last step, breathing hard.
She sucked in a breath at the sudden stop, tensing when she heard the muffled shouting outside.
If we heard it in the house, there was a chance her neighbors heard the commotion as well.
Between our families, we had enough law enforcement on the payroll.
It wasn't a major concern, but it lowered the safety rating of the area.
Not ideal for kids. Well, not that I was thinking about that… yet.
“I have the weapon. Will you at least stay behind me?” I peered into her eyes, pleading for my stubborn girl to stay behind me if worse came to worse.
“I’m not entirely defenseless,” she retorted.
“I know.” I gave her a rueful smile. “You’ve got a mean right hook when cornered in a library.”
Her eyes glittered with memories and a hint of mirth. When she sighed and relented with a nod, I switched back into action. Out the front door and into the dimly lit front yard, we ran into the chaos. Moving on autopilot, I retrieved my pistol and went on the defensive.
Monty’s two personal guards stood as the last line of defense between the gate and the front door.
They frowned in tandem when they heard our approach and spotted her trailing after me—a righteous fury in high heels.
I shrugged to communicate that I had no control over her. Both men nodded in agreement.
More importantly, there were damn near five or six of those masked bastards scaling the gate to the driveway. Monty’s security was already at the base, fighting the first wave. Pistols were silenced, but the crack of a fired weapon still opened the floodgates on my adrenaline.
Banjo and Gizmo stood in front of Monty, not permitting her to step off the front patio.
In my periphery, I noticed her frown and pinched brows, but sighed in relief that they were shielding her.
Secure in her safety, I charged in on the heels of her guards, shooting down men in black, falling over the tall gate onto the driveway.
As I did, a second van screeched to a halt on the street.
Doors slammed, boots hit the pavement, and another wave of attackers rammed into her reinforced gate.
A few tried to scale the fence, but my trigger finger made quick work and they dropped like flies into Monty’s hedges.
I could already hear her shrill complaints in my ears about the massacre making a mess of her lawn.
Senses honing into the need for violence, the acts of war.
My body moved in precise shots and dodges.
I fired off rapid shots until the swarm spilled over the gate into the front yard.
Gunfire took down half their numbers, which had grown to fifteen after the van arrived.
I focused on each breath in, the strain in my muscles, the sweat forming on my brow.
My eyes tracked their movements, stopping each thug in a black mask before they breached the invisible line between me and Monty.
None of them made it past me. Even when a small swarm of them surrounded me, forcing me to fight in close combat, none survived the distance over the lawn to my wife. And if they had, her personal guards were poised and ready to defend her with their lives.
Rage and protective possession swallowed me whole, seeping into my bones and guiding me through the stages of the battle.
A few hits to my body didn’t faze me as I rode the high of the adrenaline.
The punch to my face, the kick to my ribs, and the slice from one of the lucky fuckers getting me in the thigh.
It was a performance, and their moves were amateur at best. Like dumb ogres stumbling over the dancefloor and stepping on toes more than doing actual damage.
I caught glimpses of Monty through the course of the fight. An angel of death waiting on the sidelines of a battle for the fools to collapse and collect their souls. She’d sweep the bastards kissed by my gun away on ebony wings and deliver them to hell with a grin on her red painted lips.
What felt like an eternity lasted no longer than eight minutes.
The final two masked assailants seemed to realize their side had failed. The war they came to delight in crumbled to dust around them. One of them snapped his head to his remaining comrade before turning tail and darting toward the gate.
I scoffed, affronted at the cowardly conduct. It didn’t stop me from putting a bullet in his leg and another in his spine. He flopped almost comically, falling headfirst into the metal gate.
“Drake!” Monty’s shriek caught me on a short leash, and I whipped around. The last masked bastard had side-stepped me while I shot down his friend and was darting toward my girl.
Her guards had fallen to the side in a scuffle with three of the men earlier and were rushing to block him.
I didn’t think twice about lifting my gun and pulling the trigger, even though we’d needed at least one alive for questioning. No one threatened my wife and lived to regret it. He could ask the devil for forgiveness when he saw him here soon.
A crack of a firing pistol split the air. His body crumbled mere feet away from Helen, standing at the edge of her front patio. A spray of blood from the man’s head arced toward her and splattered at her feet.
She uncrossed her arms, mouth popping open as she peered at the man in the grass. Her head tipped up at me and her wide, pale eyes narrowed into indignant slits.
“You got blood on my Louboutins!” Monty’s indignant shout almost kicked a snort from me.
“I’ll get you a new pair!” I hollered back. But I was smiling, staring at her alive and furious over the state of her shoes with relief bullying the adrenaline out of my system.
My wife was safe, and with bloody shoes as her biggest concern, I couldn’t help the barking laughter that escaped me.
The angry creases in her expression dropped when she noticed.
In the dark of early night, surrounded by blood, viscera, brains, and death, I caught her in my arms and felt her shaking with relieved laughter against me.