Chapter 8
chapter eight
Madelyn
It's been a week since I told them everything. A week of sleeping between them every night, of waking up to Dash's rough kisses and Finn's wandering hands. A week of feeling safer than I have in months, like maybe, just maybe, I can actually breathe again.
Wednesday night at The Rusty Anchor is moderately busy. Not packed like the weekend crowds, but steady enough to keep me moving. I'm carrying a tray of beers to a table near the back when I feel it, that prickle at the base of my neck that tells me something's wrong.
I set the drinks down, forcing a smile at the customers, and turn back toward the bar.
That's when I see them.
Two men standing just inside the entrance, scanning the room with cold, calculating eyes. One is tall and lean with slicked-back dark hair, Bruno. The other is shorter, stockier, with a shaved head and a scar running down his left cheek, Sal.
My blood turns to ice.
No. No, no, no. This can't be happening.
They're here. They found me. After everything, after running, after hiding, after finally feeling like I might have a chance at something good, they fucking found me.
My hands start shaking. The tray slips and I grip it tighter, my knuckles going white. I force myself to keep moving, to act normal, to not draw attention. But inside I'm screaming. Inside I'm already running.
How did they find me? How the hell did they track me here?
I make it back to the bar, setting the empty tray down with trembling hands. Dash is behind the counter, pouring a whiskey for a regular. He glances up and his eyes narrow immediately.
"Maddie." His voice is low, sharp. "What's wrong?"
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. My throat is too tight. My heart is hammering so hard I can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears.
Finn appears at my side, his hand sliding to the small of my back. "Hey. Talk to us."
I force myself to breathe. To focus. "They're here," I whisper, my voice shaking. "Bruno and Sal. Vega's men. They're here."
Dash's entire body goes rigid. His hand stills on the bottle, his jaw clenching so hard I can see the muscle jump. "Where?"
"By the door." I don't look. I can't. If I look at them again, if I make eye contact, they'll know. They'll know I saw them and they'll know I'm terrified.
"Breathe, sweetheart." Finn's voice is calm, steady, but there's steel underneath. "We've got you. You're not alone."
Dash sets the bottle down carefully, his movements controlled. Too controlled. Like he's holding himself back from doing something violent. "Stay behind the bar. Don't move."
"Dash—"
"I said don't move." His eyes meet mine, and there's something dark and dangerous in them. Something that makes my stomach flip despite the terror clawing at my chest. "We're handling this."
Finn's hand slides from my back to my hip, squeezing once. Possessive. Protective. "He's right. Stay here. Let us deal with them."
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I watch as they move away from me, their bodies shifting into something different. Something harder. More lethal.
This is what they were before they owned a bar. This is what twenty years in the Marines looks like.
Dash moves first, stepping out from behind the bar with that predatory grace I've caught glimpses of but never fully witnessed. Finn flanks him, positioning himself so they're blocking the path between me and the door. Between me and Bruno and Sal.
I press my back against the shelves behind the bar, my hands gripping the counter's edge. My pulse is racing. My vision is tunneling. I can't stop staring at Bruno and Sal as they scan the room, their eyes moving methodically from table to table.
Then Bruno's gaze lands on me, and recognition flashes in his eyes. He smiles.
My stomach drops. Oh God. Oh God, he knows. He sees me.
Bruno says something to Sal, nodding in my direction. Sal's eyes follow, and he grins too, that same predatory smile that makes my skin crawl. They start moving toward me.
Dash steps directly into their path. "Gentlemen." His voice is low, rough, and absolutely unyielding. "Bar's closed for private business. You need to leave."
Bruno stops, his smile never faltering. "We're not here for drinks." His eyes flick past Dash to me. "We're here for her."
"Not happening." Finn moves to Dash's left, cutting off any angle they might have. "Turn around and walk out. Now."
Sal laughs, a harsh, grating sound. "You don't know who you're fucking with, old man."
"Old man?" Dash's mouth curves into something that's not quite a smile. "That's cute. You want to try me?"
The tension in the room ratchets up instantly. The other customers are starting to notice, conversations dying off as people turn to watch. I can feel their eyes on us, the weight of what's about to happen pressing down on my chest.
Bruno takes another step forward. "We don't want any trouble. Just give us the girl and we'll be on our way."
"She's not going anywhere with you." Finn's voice is calm, almost conversational, but there's a lethal edge underneath. "So I'll say it one more time. Leave. Now."
"Or what?" Sal's hand moves to his waistband, and I see the outline of a gun tucked into his jeans.
My breath catches. No. No, they're going to get hurt. They're going to get killed because of me.
"Dash," I start to move forward, but Finn's hand shoots out, stopping me without even looking.
"Stay," he says quietly. "Trust us."
Dash's eyes never leave Bruno. "You really want to pull that gun in a room full of witnesses? In a town where everyone knows everyone? You think that's smart?"
Bruno's smile falters. He glances around the bar, taking in the faces watching them. The phones already out, recording.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Dash continues, his voice dropping lower. "But either way, you're leaving without her. So what's it going to be?"
Sal's hand twitches toward his gun again. "You don't know who you're dealing with."
Dash moves. One second he's standing still, the next he's closed the distance between them, his hand clamping down on Sal's wrist before he can draw the weapon. There's a sickening crack and Sal screams, crumpling to his knees.
Finn moves at the same instant, stepping into Bruno's space and driving his elbow into the man's solar plexus. Bruno doubles over, gasping for air.
It happens so fast I barely process it. One moment they're standing there, threatening us. The next they're on the ground, disarmed and writhing.
Dash yanks the gun from Sal's waistband and ejects the magazine with practiced ease, pocketing both. "You were saying?"
Finn has Bruno's arm twisted behind his back, his knee digging into the man's spine.
"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to stand up, walk out of here, and never come back.
You're going to tell Vega that Madelyn Graves is under our protection now.
And if he or any of his men come near her again, we'll make sure it's the last mistake they ever make. Understood?"
Bruno spits blood onto the floor. "Vega's going to kill you for this."
"He can try." Dash crouches down next to Sal, his voice dropping to something cold and deadly.
"But here's the thing, we've killed men a hell of a lot more dangerous than Frank Vega.
So you go back and tell him that if he wants her, he's going to have to go through us. And trust me, he won't survive that."
He stands, hauling Sal up by his broken wrist. Sal screams, and Dash shoves him toward the door. Finn releases Bruno, who stumbles forward, clutching his ribs.
"Get out," Dash says flatly. "Now."
They go. Bruno and Sal stumble out of the bar, Bruno supporting Sal as they disappear into the night.
The door swings shut behind them, and the silence in the bar is deafening.
Then someone starts clapping. Slowly at first, then others join in. Within seconds, the entire bar is applauding, cheering, raising their glasses. But I can't hear any of it. All I can hear is the roaring in my ears, the pounding of my heart, the terror still clawing at my throat.
Dash turns to me, his eyes locking onto mine. He crosses the distance between us in three long strides and pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest.
"You're okay," he murmurs into my hair. "You're safe. We've got you."
Finn is there a second later, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his forehead pressing against mine. "Breathe, Maddie. Just breathe."
I'm shaking. I can't stop shaking. "They found me. They know where I am. They're going to come back."
"Let them." Dash's voice is hard, unyielding. "Let them come. We'll be ready."
"You could've been killed."
"We weren't." Finn's thumb strokes along my jaw, his eyes fierce. "And we won't be. We've handled worse than this, sweetheart. Trust us."
I look between them, these two men who just took down armed thugs without breaking a sweat. Who moved with lethal precision and controlled violence. Who protected me without hesitation.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry I brought this to you."
"Don't." Dash's hand cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Don't apologize for something that isn't your fault. You didn't ask for this. But you've got us now, and we're not letting you go."
"Never," Finn adds, his voice rough with emotion. "You're ours, Maddie. And we protect what's ours."
The possessiveness in their voices, the raw intensity in their eyes, it should scare me. But it doesn’t, it makes me feel safe.
"We need to close up," Dash says, his gaze still locked on mine. "Get everyone out. Then we're taking you home, and we're not leaving your side until this is over."
Finn nods, already moving to clear the bar. "I'll call Hudson. Let him know what happened and see if he can expedite things on his end."