I whirled and saw Shard, gun up pointed at me, his bruised and swollen face grinning, eyes hard.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” Shard said.

Then he fired.

Unfortunately Roam had enough chance to get himself in front of me. Roam’s body jerked when the bullet slammed into it and he went down at my feet.

Rage shot through me, I screamed bloody murder, lifted my gun, pointed and fired.

Shard fired too.

My first bullet hit him in the shoulder. I didn’t aim to hurt him overly much.

His first bullet hit me in the gut, he aimed to kill me.

The burning sensation in my belly was nearly overpowering.

The will to live thankfully put the “nearly” in my previous statement.

With a gut wound, knowing his intention, Roam at my feet not moving and his gun still aimed at me, I had no choice but to fire again, this time, with a different aim.

His second shot hit me in the chest.

My second shot went straight into his frontal lobe.

* * * * *

Luke

Luke saw the Harley in front of him, Vance astride it. Luke flashed his lights, Vance lifted his hand. Luke parked the Porsche behind the Harley two doors down from Cordova’s house.

“Stay here, kid,” Luke ordered Sniff.

Sniff nodded but Luke didn’t see him, he was already out of the car.

“I take front, you take back,” Vance said when Luke made it to him, already approaching the house at a jog.

Luke nodded, jogging beside him then separating, beginning to move across the lawn of the house next to Cordova’s, heading toward the back.

Then they heard the shot then the scream and the second they did, they both sprinted forward at a dead run to Cordova’s front door.

By the time they made it and Vance kicked in the door, four more shots had been fired.

* * * * *

Jules

I fell down on my ass, reached out toward a prone Roam, couldn’t find the strength or my breath, to make it to him so I fell to my back.

I closed my eyes, fighting the pain and thinking about getting to a phone. When I opened my eyes again Vance’s face was the only thing I saw.

“Hey,” I said because I figured I’d passed out (I didn’t think I died, the pain of multiple gunshot wounds hurt like a mother and I didn’t figure they had pain in heaven) and this was a dream so I smiled at him.

“Hey, Princess,” he replied, eyes on me, hands working somewhere else then I felt my shirt ripped open from hem to collar.

“Get a goddamned medic here,” I heard Luke bark from somewhere in the room.

I turned my head to see where Luke was but instead saw Hector kneeling over Roam.

I looked back to Vance. “Is Roam okay?” I asked.

“Let’s worry about you right now,” Vance said. He moved away from sight and I saw his hands catch something. When Vance wasn’t filling my vision I was pretty certain I was seeing things because I could swear I caught a glimpse of Darius and then Vance came back to me.

I was losing it, fading, and I knew it. My body was going into shock. I could feel the warm blood sliding out of me even as Vance put pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding. I didn’t know if I went unconscious if I’d wake up again.

I blinked. “Crowe,” I called.

His eyes had moved from mine to my torso but they came back to me. “Yeah?”

I had a lot of things to tell him, a lot of things I needed him to understand and I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.

I lifted my hand but couldn’t keep it up. Before it fell Vance caught it.

I looked into his eyes as his strong fingers closed around mine and I said the only thing I could think to communicate everything he needed to know.

“Home.”

Then everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Waiting

Jet

It was the middle of the night and Eddie’s phone was ringing.

This happened a lot seeing as Eddie was a cop so we were kind of practiced at him answering it without disturbing me (too much).

I was curled into his side. His arm went to the nightstand, he nabbed the phone, flipped it open one-handed and said quietly, “Yeah?”

He listened for five seconds then I felt his body go completely solid.

My head shot up.

Eddie rolled away and turned on the light. When he rolled back, his black eyes were on me. I didn’t like what I saw and I pushed up, one hand at his abs, one hand in the bed.

“Where’re they takin’ her?” Eddie asked.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

My first thought was Mom. My Mom had a stroke nearly a year ago and it had been bad but she had made it. My greatest fear was that it would happen again and worse. Without asking, I whirled around, threw back the covers and jumped out of the bed.

“Right. Later,” Eddie said, his voice urgent.

I was hopping around, pulling on my jeans when Eddie caught me by the waist. “Jet,” he said softly.

I turned to him and pushed off, going back to pulling on my jeans but looking up at him. “Is it Mom? Where is she?”

“It isn’t your Mom,” I stopped and stared at him. He didn’t make me wait. “It’s Jules. She’s been shot.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“It’s not good,” Eddie said.

I stayed still, I couldn’t move, I just stayed still, a foot away from Eddie, staring at him.

“How not good?” I finally asked.

“Chest and gut.”

I felt somehow as if an imaginary bullet tore through me in each place.

“Twice?” I cried, my voice shrill.

“Cariña,” he came forward but I jumped away, pulling up my jeans at the same time.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“There’s nothin’ we can do.”

I yanked off his t-shirt that I’d drunkenly pulled on before I’d fallen into bed what seemed like only minutes ago and I turned to the chest of drawers, pulled out a bra and put it on while I glared at him.

“Let’s go.”

He stared at me a beat then bent to grab his jeans from the floor.

Within five minutes we were out the backdoor and in the garage. I was yanking open the passenger side door to Eddie’s red Dodge Ram when Eddie shoved it closed. I turned to him, mouth open to ask him what he was doing when he put a hand to my belly and pushed me up against the truck, following me there and pinning me with his body.