Chapter 19
(Later that afternoon)
The goodbye had taken too long.
Not because I minded seeing Theory with her people.
Hell, I liked that shit more than I expected to.
I liked watching them fuss over her and slowly warm up to me.
I liked the way her daddy shook my hand and held my eyes, like he was still deciding whether or not I was worthy of his daughter.
I even liked the way her cousins’ husbands kept circling, checking exits, questioning me, making sure they could trust her with me.
Protective niggas respected protective niggas. I could live with that.
But I didn’t like how exposed we were.
A family lunch after a wedding was supposed to be a nice little send-off before I took my reluctant bride back to the compound. But there were too many people, too many variables, too many scenarios that I didn’t like. Shit made me uneasy.
Theory noticed, too.
“Why you looking like that? Relax. My family won’t kill you… unless I tell them to,” she murmured, then smirked at me.
I looked down at her. She was beautiful in a soft yellow sundress that set off that honey-brown skin and hugged her curvy body. My wife was playing her part; smiling, she had one hand looped through my arm, that huge diamond flashing every time she moved.
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t be sad,” I muttered.
She gave me a quick eye roll. “Boy, please.”
Finally, it was time to go. Her grandparents hugged her again. Her mama kissed her cheek. Her cousins teased her. Her daddy pulled her in tight, then kissed her forehead.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said to her, the words meant for me.
“I will, Daddy.”
Her voice was light, but I could hear the sadness in it. She was close with her family and would miss them. I rubbed her lower back. “We’ll see them for Real and Everly’s wedding in a couple of weeks,” I reminded her.
By the time we made it outside, Juvie had the Yukon running.
Mikhail stood by the rear passenger door, expression blank as usual.
We climbed in and Theory sighed, a light sheen of tears blurring those honey eyes.
I had to do something. I hated when she cried, wanted it to be as rare as possible from now on.
I leaned in close to her and lowered my mouth to her ear.
“Soon as we get back, how about I take them pins out your hair and your body out that dress?”
It worked. She leaned back just enough to give me a side-eye. “How about no? Your nasty ass would be thinking that.”
“Among other things.”
She kissed her teeth, but her cheeks warmed.
That little reaction was enough. I sat back and enjoyed the ride.
Theory was beside me, one leg crossed over the other, the soft scent of her perfume in the air between us.
I knew this might be my last moment of peace.
Today, I would tell her who I was, what I came from.
We were on a narrow little stretch not far from the compound when I heard the engine. It was too fast, too close.
My head turned slightly, eyes moving toward the rear window just as a black Charger came up behind us fast, then eased back like the driver caught himself. The windows were tinted dark, and the car stayed back just enough to look like the driver was out for a casual Sunday evening drive.
Shit wasn’t casual. Every muscle in my body went tight. I opened the partition.
“Juvie.”
“I see it,” he said, eyes glued to the rear-view mirror.
Mikhail shifted in his seat, already reaching.
“What?” Theory asked, looking between us.
The Charger lingered behind us through the next curve, then crept a little closer.
“Theory, get down,” I ordered.
Her eyes flew to my face. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.
I put a hand on her back and pushed. “Milaya, when I say get down, get down.”
She frowned. “Targen—”
“Now.”
Something in my tone cut through her irritation. She bent down as low as the seat would let her go, still looking up at me with anger flashing in her eyes. Mikhail twisted around in the front, gun ready, while Juvie pressed the gas hard enough that the engine sounded noisy in response.
The Charger stayed with us.
“Targen, talk to me,” my wife pleaded, fear creeping into her eyes.
Juvie’s voice cut off my reply. “Charger ain’t alone, OG. We got more company.”
My gaze cut to the rear glass. Two darkly-tinted, black SUVs had fallen in behind us. My hand went to the gun under my jacket.
“Targen!” Theory hissed.
“Stay down,” I told her.
“I’m not a child.”
“Then don’t act like one and be hard-headed. Get low.”
Juvie bounced in his seat. “To the windowwwww, to the wall. Til the sweat—”
“Julien!” I warned.
He nodded, then took a turn almost too fast. Engine roaring, the Yukon leaned so hard that the tires whined. Mikhail twisted in the passenger seat, watching the vehicles behind us.
“The Charger disappeared. One SUV immediately on us. Other hanging back,” he reported.
“It’s testing us,” I said.
He nodded. “I believe this, too, sir.”
Theory gripped the leather seat with one hand and my thigh with the other when Juvie whipped around another curve.
I looked down at her hand. Even scared, she was still reaching for me.
That shit hit me somewhere deep. I couldn’t think too much about it, because right then, the first shot rang. The back window cracked but held.
Theory gasped.
“Bulletproof glass. You good,” I reassured her.
Her breathing was too fast. Her eyes were big and angry and scared all at once.
“They’re shooting at us!”
“Obviously,” I said dryly.
Her mouth tightened into a line. “Don’t ‘obviously’ me, Targen!”
Another shot cracked, then three more. Juvie laughed, crazy little nigga. “Okay, then! They didn’t come to play.”
“Can you lose them?” I asked.
“Maybe. But they ready to work.”
The second SUV surged up on the passenger side. Mikhail dropped his window a few inches, lifted his weapon, and fired twice. His shooting was like everything else about him—controlled, precise. The SUV swerved, then corrected itself and kept coming.
Okay, then. They were trained. A different kind of fury slid over me as I thought about the risk to my wife. Speaking of whom…
“Who the fuck are these people?” Theory snapped.
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know yet. My mind was running through possibilities. Chauncey’s people wouldn’t move like this. Most small, local crews wouldn’t either. This was too organized and disciplined.
Suddenly, the first SUV rammed us from behind.
Theory cried out as the Yukon lurched. She almost slammed into the seat in front of her. I grabbed her waist with one hand automatically, bracing her.
“Juvie,” I warned.
“I know, I know!”
The road narrowed ahead, bordered by ditch on one side and trees on the other. The second SUV jumped beside us again. A man leaned halfway out the rear window with a rifle.
Shots exploded. Mikhail fired. Reaching over Theory, I eased my gun out, steadied myself, and fired.
What was left of the suddenly bloody hand yanked back, dropping the rifle to the road.
I smiled grimly, then cursed as another impact rocked us.
The first SUV clipped our rear panel just right. The Yukon fishtailed.
“Hold on!” Juvie shouted.
Everything happened fast as hell after that.
The sound and feel of tires on gravel. A scream from Theory.
For one sick second, I felt weightless. Then the truck slammed through the shallow ditch and crashed into a cluster of trees.
The airbags burst as I listened to the high-pitched sound of twisting metal.
For a moment, it was silent except for the ticking of the still-hot engine.
I turned instantly. “Theory!”
She coughed, blinking hard. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
Blood trickled from a tiny cut near her hairline. My vision turned red. Doors slammed outside.
“Let’s go kill some bitches,” Juvie said coldly, the playful demeanor gone.
I shoved the airbag aside and grabbed Theory’s face quickly, making her meet my eyes. “Listen to me. You stay down. You do not move unless I come get you. Understand?”
“Targen—”
“Understand?”
She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”
I kissed my fingertips, pressed them to her forehead, then kicked my door open and came out shooting. The first man was already advancing on us. I buried two rounds in his chest before his weapon fully came up. He dropped.
Mikhail was out on the passenger side, using the crumpled hood as partial cover, face still blank as he sent controlled fire toward the road.
Juvie had posted up behind a tree, eyes cold, determined grin gone.
He looked young as hell until he fired. Then he looked like what Real and Maxim and I had helped turn him into.
Ruthless.
Bullets tore bark from the tree over my shoulder. I returned fire and saw one shooter dive behind his SUV.
“Three left,” Mikhail called.
“Four,” Juvie corrected.
He was right. There was movement in the trees to our left. I moved, too, sliding in the ditch, but managing to stay upright. The shooter popped out, eyes on Juvie and Mikhail, probably thinking the big nigga from the backseat wouldn’t move quick enough.
He was wrong.
I hit him low first, smiling as his knee folded wrong.
I closed the distance between us. Before he could scream, my second shot took him in the throat.
I was close enough that blood, hot and thick, sprayed across my hand.
I had no time to celebrate. I turned back toward the road just as one of the SUVs’ back doors opened and another man dragged out something black and round.
My stomach dropped. I barely had time to yell, “Smoke!” before the canister sailed and landed just short of us.
Clouds of smoke hissed out. They were giving themselves cover, trying to blind us, then close in.
Very professional. They wanted to get close enough to take someone alive.
A little thrill slid through me despite the situation.
A twisted part of me liked when people I had to put down were good competition.
Whoever they were, they had come correct.
Too bad for them, so had we. We wouldn’t be losing anyone today.
“Mikhail, my right!” I ordered.
“Da.”
“Juvie, with me.”
We moved through the smoke by sound more than sight. I heard a muttered curse in a language that wasn’t English. I recognized the Russian immediately.
Well, well, well.
I made out the outline of one shape first and fired three times toward its middle. I heard a grunt and then a heavy thud. Juvie got the next before I even saw him, two quick pops and a body collapsed by the roadside.
The final shooter broke from cover, sprinting back toward the remaining SUV. He was almost there when Mikhail stepped out of the haze, all calm and focused, and put a bullet in the back of his head.
Finally, it was quiet.
My chest rose and fell hard as I scanned the road, looking for any more movement. One SUV was idling, half in the road, the driver dead across the wheel. Mikhail’s shots had wrecked the other, its front tire shredded.
Juvie wiped at his cheek where a bullet graze had opened his skin. “Damn. Bet you Real and Thickums won’t top that wedding send off.”
I ignored that. “You hit?”
He shook his head. “Just the little kiss on the cheek. You Russians so affectionate sometimes.”
I looked at Mikhail. He glanced down at the blood on his sleeve. “It is not mine, sir.”
Good. I jogged back to the Yukon. Theory had not stayed exactly where I left her.
Of course she hadn’t. She was half up now, eyes huge, breathing hard, one hand pressed to the glass as she searched for me.
The second she saw me, her whole face changed.
She was mad, scared, and relieved all at once. I yanked open the door.
“You hurt?”
“I told you I’m okay!” she snapped, but her voice cracked on the last word.
I unbuckled her and pulled her into my arms. She came. For one second, she leaned into my chest and held on tight as hell. Then she shoved me back.
“What the fuck was that?” she yelled.
I looked over her head at Juvie and Mikhail. “Call for help, and cleanup if you haven’t. Check bodies, phones, IDs, everything.”
They moved off without a word.
“Targen.”
“Not now, malyshka.”
Theory grabbed the front of my shirt. “No. No, don’t do that cold shit with me right now. We just got run off the road, people tried to kill us, and your big scary ass hopped out like this is any ol’ random Sunday. What. The fuck. Was. That?”
I looked at the blood near her hairline again and had to unclench my jaw before I answered. I wanted to fucking hurt somebody… I mean, I already had, but still.
“An attack.”
Her eyes blazed. “Don’t fucking play with me!”
“I’m not playing.”
“You knew how to move too fast. Them men knew how to move too fast. Even Juvie knew how to move too fast. Ain’t nobody about to stand here and act like this was regular street bullshit, Targen!”
No. It wasn’t.
Juvie came back first, frowning. “Russian ink on two of ’em. One of the phones got wiped already.”
Mikhail held up a chain with a small medal on it. A saint icon. Guy was probably Russian Orthodox.
Theory looked from them to me and went still, her honey eyes going cold. That was worse than the yelling. Slowly, she stepped back.
“Who are you? Don’t try to change the subject. Don’t try to shut me up. Who are you?”
“Theory—”
“No. You don’t get to Theory me or calm me down or kiss on me right now. I almost died out here with you, and those niggas came at us like they were hunting someone So, no more omission. No more ‘later.’”
She pointed at the bodies on the roadside and the ruined trucks.
“You gon’ tell me who you really are. You gon’ tell me who your people are. You gon’ tell me what happened to make men like that chase us down in broad daylight.”
She was shaking, furious but determined. She glared at me.
“You said you’d tell me after the wedding. The wedding’s over. You tell me right now, or the marriage will be, too.”