“I’m good!” he roars. “Just grazed!” He takes a dive roll towards me, ducking back behind the rack with me. He grunts and glances at his arm.
I pop my head out and wince, ducking back when bullets kick up the sand around me. Past his car, I can see a cloud of sand kicking up as an off-road Jeep comes barreling over the dunes towards us.
“Four of them, coming fast!” I grit through teeth.
Another shot rings out, and this time, the hole pops up on our side of the makeshift barricade.
“Shit!” I hiss. “One behind us!”
And suddenly, my blood turns to ice: behind us is my house. In my house is Taylor. Bear sees the look in my eyes and snarls.
“Go! I got these fuckers!”
I dive out and rush up the stairs three at a time as bullets spray the wood around me. I crash through the front door, and the sound of Taylor screaming has me seeing red. I crash into the bedroom, and my body goes tight when I see Taylor wrapped in bedsheets, screaming as a man in black tries to smash his way through the window.
I level the gun and pull the trigger twice, and the fucker drops out the window like a fuckin’ rock.
“I’m here!” I roar, grabbing her into my arms. “I’m here, baby girl. I’m here!”
“West!” She gasps. “I think it’s the same ones from the shack!”
I hear the Jeep screech to a stop outside, and then a ton of rapid gun firing back and forth. But then, it’s quiet.
Fuck.
“West Farrow!” A voice suddenly booms out. “You in there?”
“Depends!” I roar back. “Who’s out there?”
The man chuckles. “This don’t concern you, man. And I’d hate to shoot up this little house of yours. But that doesn’t have to happen. We can do this nice and easy, yeah?”
“Yeah?” I snarl, ducking low. I’ve got Taylor tight in my arms, my gun ready. “And what the fuck does that entail, exactly?”
“If you can be a smart fucker and let this drop, all we want is the girl.”
My eyes narrow, and my jaw clenches almost painfully.
“Not fucking happening,” I snarl.
The man laughs again. “Well, then we’ll take the two fucking million dollars her uncle owes me.”
Taylor stiffens and whirls to me. “What?” she whispers.
I scowl and glance out the broken window. I don’t see Bear, but there’s four of them out there—three with machine guns, and the one with a handgun. That’s the guy talking, and he looks a bit older than the others.
“And who the fuck are you?” I yell.
He grins. “The man Matt Conway owes two million bucks to. My name’s Johnny Spirelli.”
I groan, my gut sinking. The guy grins.
“I’m guessing by your lack of witty response that you know who the fuck I am.”
Yeah, I know who the hell this shithead is. I was never in the life, but I did hang with some guys back in high school who ran with a tougher crowd. In the scheme of the world at large, Johnny Spirelli is a nobody. He’s insignificant. But around here? He’s the closest thing to a mafia don this town has ever seen, and I know for a fact that he does not fuck around.
“Sounds like you’ve got a bone to pick with Matt Conway,” I grunt. “I don’t see how this concerns her.”
“Well, I do,” Johnny grins evilly. “And believe me, it definitely concerns her now.”