“Move!” he yelled at me.
I didn’t think.
I twisted to the side, sinking my teeth into the meaty flesh of my assailant’s thigh, and bit down.
So nasty.
Who knew where his thigh had been…
But a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
He screamed and I released my teeth, pushing up to run away.
I got two steps.
He hit me in the back, swinging the gun around and catching me right in the center. Pain exploded between my shoulders and I fell, landing on my hands and knees. I pushed up, but the man grabbed my ankle, causing me to fall back down, flat on my face. With him still holding my ankle, I spun, flipping over to see him (He was also wearing a mask) tower over me.
He grinned a maniacal grin beneath the black fabric and raised the gun. “You can’t outrun a bullet.”
Max plowed into him from behind, coming in low like some kind of out of control linebacker. He wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and pushed off the pavement, ramming the gunman into the brick building.
The two men sprawled out on the sidewalk with Max on top. He drew back his fist and landed several solid punches before the gunman flipped them and pinned Max to the ground.
“Max!” I screamed as adrenaline pumped through my system. I couldn’t even think. All I could do was feel as a flurry of emotion slammed into my body all at once.
It was almost paralyzing.
I couldn’t think.
I had to think.
The gunman socked Max in the face and the sound of the pounding of flesh turned my stomach. I glanced around to see the other man lying unconscious on the ground, my purse beside him.
I ran to my bag and dumped the contents out on the concrete. Finding the only thing I thought might help, I ran back over toward the men, who were know grappling over the gun.
I ran over, holding up my weapon, ready to strike, when Max flipped the larger man off him and delivered a jab to his kidney. The man made a wheezing sound and Max grabbed the gun, twisting it around to take it away.
Our attacker was a persistent man, grabbing onto Max’s wrist and pulling the gun back. Max leaned over as the two fought for control of the weapon.
The sound of a firing bullet cut through the night.
I screamed and closed the distance between us as both men collapsed, tangled in a heap, no longer wrestling.
The dark, unmistakable stain of blood creeped out from beneath them, winding across the pavement and pooling at my feet.
17
Tucker
I was a Marine (Yeah, I was out of the Corps now, but once a Marine, always a Marine). I had been trained in war. I had been trained to fight.
Didn’t mean I enjoyed it.
But as I rolled off the asshole who shot himself while trying to shoot me and threatening to shoot Charlotte, I enjoyed seeing him bleed.
Fucker.
In fact, as I stood, I considered shooting him again.
“Max!” Charlotte screeched and plowed into me from behind. I spun, taking her weight and supporting it while planting my feet into the ground to keep us from falling over.
She pulled back, frantically searching my body, running her cool fingers all along my limbs and up my chest.
I’ll be damned if my cock didn’t start to respond.
Apparently he didn’t care we were almost just killed.
“Where are you shot?” she asked, her words spilling over each other.
“Charlie,” I said.
“Where’s my phone?” she yelled. “I’ll call 9-1-1!”
“Charlie—”
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding!” She gasped, placing her hands over the front of my white shirt, which was now saturated in red.
I caught her hands and squeezed. “I’m not bleeding.”
“What?” she said, like my words weren’t getting through to her.
I released her hands and grabbed her by the face, cupping her jaw in my palms and staring directly into her wild eyes. “Honey, listen. I’m not shot. That’s not my blood. I’m fine.”
“You’re not shot?” she said, her voice wobbling.
“No.” My hand skimmed down her neck to brush away some of the hair that was sticking to her tear-stained cheek.
A sob ripped from her throat as her arms thrust around me. Charlotte buried her face in my chest and cried. “I thought you were dead!” she wailed. “Dead!”
“I’m not dead.”
“The blood…”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“They tried to rob us.” She stiffened and pulled away. “They tried to rob us!”
Was it odd I thought it was cute the way she seemed to just remember we were in a deadly situation?
The man who shot himself (what a douche) groaned and pushed himself up to his knees. I turned, tucking Charlotte between me and the wall, my muscles tensing.
I reached down beside him and picked up the gun, cocking it and aiming it at his head. “You have shitty aim,” I told him. “I don’t.”
“This was supposed to be easy.” He moaned, pressing a hand to the bullet wound in his side.
I reached behind me and guided Charlotte’s fingers into my belt loop. “Stay with me, sweetheart.”
I moved along the wall, keeping the gun ready to fire as we made our way over to the guy who was laughingly easy to knock out. I kicked him. “Get up.”
He didn’t reply.
I kicked him again.
He jolted awake like someone threw cold water on him.
“Get your bleeding friend and get the hell out of my face.”
His eyes widened when he saw who was in control now, and he leapt off the pavement, rushing over to his asshole friend. They started to move away.
“We have to call 9-1-1!” Charlotte whispered fiercely behind me.
I ignored her.
“Hey,” I called out to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.
They looked up.
“You tell who sent you that if he wants me dead, he’s going to have to try a hell of a lot harder than this.”
The idiots grimaced.
For shits and giggles, I fired off a shot that ricocheted off the pavement just in front of their feet. They scattered like the cockroaches they were.
“They’re getting away!” Charlotte yelled, rushing out from behind me and running after the men.
I grabbed her and hauled back into my side. “Let them go.”
“Are you crazy?”
My eyes narrowed on her face. “You’re bruised.” Gently, I ran my thumb on the underside of her chin where a purple mark was already forming.
“So are you.”