The man to his left lifted his gun and pointed it at me.
Right.
At.
Me.
I had nowhere to go. There was no way I was getting through three goons and a monster of a man. The old backdoor behind me didn’t open anymore. If I jetted down the hall, I might be able to break one of the painted-shut windows, but it was more likely I’d be shot in the back.
If I’m dying, running will not be the last thing I do on this earth.
Trapped like a defenseless mouse surrounded by vicious predators, I stayed where I was. I steeled my spine and raised my chin.
I waited for death.
“Wait,” the black-haired man said, pushing the other man’s arm down. He studied me with dark eyes, running a tattooed hand through his hair and then across his stubbled jaw. Seeming to reach a conclusion, he gave a single nod. “She comes with us.”
Oh no.
At that, I did turn and run.
There were fates worse than death.
And if that was what I was facing, I’d take a bullet in the back instead.
I took them by surprise and gained some distance, but my short legs were no match for the goon’s much longer ones.
Thick arms wrapped around my waist, and I thrashed. I screamed. I bit. I kicked and punched and clawed.
I’d fight.
I’d die.
But I’d never go with them.
“Fucking hell,” the man cursed, squeezing me like I was the rabbit Lennie pet too hard.
I caught him with a lucky kick to the junk. His hold loosened enough for me to wiggle free and punch him in the throat.
I started to turn to take on whatever was behind me, but before I could, everything shifted. The world went sideways.
And then it went black.
CHAPTER TWO
Pretty Broken Girl
Maximo
“WHAT’RE WE GOING to do with her?”
That was the million-dollar question.
I glanced in the rearview mirror even though I couldn’t see the unconscious girl lying on the backseat of my Navigator.
Shamus’ daughter.
Last time he’d gotten behind on repaying his gambling debt, he’d thrown the blame on being a single father with no other family to help. I’d assumed it was yet another of his bullshit lies.
I’d been wrong.
She was a tiny, pretty thing. Ballsy, too. She may have learned her scrappy fighting from Shamus, but her brass balls sure as hell hadn’t come from the coward.
I focused on the road just in time to swerve to avoid some drunken asshat who’d decided jaywalking across the busy street was a smart choice.
Ash flipped the guy off. “This is why I drive.”
“No, you drive so I can work.”
“Plus, having your badass bodyguard drive you around makes you look like a badass VIP.”
I raised a brow. “I don’t need help with that.”
“True,” he agreed. “Tell me the plan.”
I would have, except I had none. No ideas. No damn clue.
And I was a man who meticulously planned everything.
Shamus’ death.
Packing up enough of his stuff to make it look like he’d run away from his problems.
Even down the exact spot where I was going to bury his body so no one would find it.
I’d accounted for everything but the girl. She’d been a twist I hadn’t anticipated.
“Can’t exactly dump her on the side of the road,” Ash said. “She’s seen us and heard your name.”
That was true. I had friends on the force, but there was only so much they could do. Especially if she went to the media. They loved a pretty, broken girl. And Shamus’ daughter—with her huge green eyes, dusting of freckles, and long strawberry-blond hair—would be ratings bait.
More than that, if we dropped her off, she’d be left to fend for herself against wolves.
“Too young to leave on her own.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I doubt that bastard had any savings. She’d be fucked even without people coming to collect Shamus’ debts.”
And they would come. Happily. Greedily. Eager to take their pound of flesh from the pretty, broken girl.
I knew too fucking well what it was like to suffer for the sins of the father. I wasn’t leaving her to deal with Shamus’ clusterfuck.
“So you’re keeping her,” Ash surmised, no question or judgment in his tone.
“Yeah, I’m keeping her.”
Juliet
I could sleep for twenty hours.
Still half-asleep, I kept my eyes closed as I stretched and rolled before burrowing into the pillows and blankets. I must’ve been even more exhausted than usual because rather than a flat pillow with its threadbare case and a lumpy mattress with broken springs, I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud. Clean and fresh and