The voices got louder. “… finish the bitch and go.”
“Where the hell did Grayson get to?”
“Don’t know, man, but come on. Let’s shoot the place up, kill them, and get the hell out.”
“It’s Vincent Leone’s fucking wife we’re after. This isn’t some fast job. We gotta do it right or we’re dead.”
“I know that, but—”
He didn’t get to finish. Ren gave me a look, then made a break for the door. He ripped it open and turned to face the guys, gun out and pointed.
I knew what he wanted me to do, but I couldn’t move.
He opened fire. The sound was so loud, I thought I might scream. It pulsed into my skull, reminding me of that moment, again and again and again, each bullet he fired was the same bullet that ripped into my body. His eyes moved to mine, and I knew I had to move, I had to run out that door, but—
He stepped forward, still shooting, and I threw myself forward. I screamed and flew out the door, stumbling on the porch. He moved back after me, and the other guys inside returned fire. Bullets slammed all around me as I screamed again, stumbling down the front steps. Ren came up behind me, sprinting hard, and pulled me behind him. He was fast and strong, and my old bullet wounds hurt like hell. I couldn’t run fast anymore, and I was mid-panic, and I knew those guys would appear at any second and kill us.
He half turned, barely slowing down, and scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing, dropping the gun onto the ground.
I bounced in his arms but hugged him tight as he sprinted faster than I could’ve ran on my own. There were gunshots behind us and some yelling, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. I hugged myself against him, squeezing my eyes shut tight, and tried not to scream.
I don’t know how far he ran or how long. Eventually he slowed and stopped, gasping for breath. He lowered me down and we sat in some random front yard under a large maple tree.
“Are we safe?” I asked him.
He nodded once. “I think so.” He took a phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and held it up to his ear.
I looked around wildly, but didn’t recognize where we were.
“Vincent, it’s Ren,” he grunted, still breathing hard. “House is compromised. Your wife’s fine. We need a ride.” There was a long pause and I could hear someone shouting on the other end. “I’ll send the location. Hurry the fuck up.” He hung up the phone, tapped a few more times, then leaned back on his elbows.
“We should move,” I said, still on the verge of panic.
“We’re fine. I ran halfway across fucking town. You’re not so heavy, you know?”
I gaped at him. “You’re making jokes about my weight right now?”
“Sorry. You’re panicking. I need to try and calm you down.”
“That won’t work.”
“How about we kiss again? Or maybe that would rile you up.”
“Goddamn, you’re insane.”
He laughed and grinned at me. “You love it.”
We didn’t have to wait long. By the time the car showed up, an old, beat-up truck being driven by a guy named Simon with an annoyed expression, I had gotten control of myself. I replayed what happened over and over in my mind on the drive back, squeezed between the two men, as Ren glared out the window.
He saved my life. He risked himself to make sure I escaped, and when it looked like I couldn’t get away fast enough, he risked himself again to pick me up and keep going. He didn’t owe that to me, but he did it anyway.
I’d be dead without him. I knew it, as sure as anything.
I put my hand on his knee and he glanced at me, gave me a tight smile, and put his hand over top of my own. He held my fingers as we headed back into the city.
7
Ren
I held it together until I made sure Amber was safe. She sat blank-eyed in a side room in the Leone family mansion and wouldn’t budge from the warmth of the gas fire as it crackled behind a set of fake logs. I poured her a drink, something brown and strong, and she held it loosely in her fingers.
Vincent stormed into the room a few minutes later. “What the hell happened?”
Amber jumped, frightened by his sudden loud voice. I turned to him, and I thought something in my eyes made him reconsider his current tone.
“Let’s talk in the hall.”
He opened his mouth, and I could tell he wasn’t used to being ordered around like that—but fuck him, and fuck this place.
He grunted and followed me out the door. I shut it softly with a click then turned to face him. The mansion’s hallways were covered in wooden chair rails and fancy molding, and the heavy carpet dampened our voices, which was probably good, because I half yelled at the motherfucker.