processing that. “What?”
“You’re not wanted around here.” He punctuated that with a spit to the side.
That was basically the same thing the man at the hotel had told her. Was it the same man? Is this what he meant by things
would get worse?
“Diggin’ around for trouble is what you’re doin’. We know you had someone look at her bags.”
Oh, God. This wasn’t random. It wasn’t a mugging or a kidnapping. This was about Sharon.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“None of your fucking business.” He grabbed for heragain, but she dodged him, scooting to the side and breaking away.
“Who are you and how do you know me?” she demanded. She’d fight the damn knife if she had to, but she wanted answers.
He lunged for her, but she managed to throw herself out of his way, rolling to the ground and scrambling to her feet, glancing
over her shoulder to catch the glint of the knife as he launched toward her.
“Bitch!” He jumped on her, pushing her back down with a crack of her back on the brick pavement, his weight like a truck on
her. “No trouble, huh?” Spittle flew as he growled the words. “The doctor was fucking wrong about that.”
The knife came down right next to her face, and Devyn turned her head and shrieked, the blade just missing. He slammed his
knee onto her stomach, making her grunt in pain.
He raised his hand to stab again. Time froze as she stared at the knife, her elbows locked, her hands fisted on his shirt,
trying desperately to hold off the inevitable. She could feel the bones in her arms almost snap with his weight as she choked
on another scream lodged in her throat.
She shook her head, her only hope to be a moving target. The knife came straight for her throat, the air moving as it fell.
The world exploded with noise and light and the punch of pain as his whole body fell on hers, and everything went black.
Marc vaulted over a crate, his Glock still aimed at the dark figure he’d just shot in the alley. The body slumped over Devyn,
and Marc didn’t dare take another shot for fear of hitting her.
The guy rolled off her or she pushed him off; he couldn’t tell. But all that mattered was that her attacker still had enough
strength to haul himself to his feet. Marc aimed again, but Devyn was getting up, too.
“Stay down!” he ordered.
“Don’t kill him!” she yelled.
He ran closer, not sure he’d heard her right, giving the guy just enough time to take off. Marc whipped the pistol directly
at him, cupping his right hand to get a dead aim.
“He knows…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, too breathless from the fight.
Holding his shoulder, the guy stumbled to the end of the alley. Marc reached Devyn, dividing his attention between the assailant
and her, making sure she was okay.
As he did, a BMW roared up to the alley entrance, slowing down as someone in the backseat threw open a door. Devyn’s attacker
leaped in, and the engine and tires screamed as they peeled away.
Marc dropped to his knees. “Jesus, Devyn, what the hell happened?”
“Hey!” From the pub, several men poured out of the door, drawn by the gunshots, no doubt.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
“What’s going on?” one of the men yelled as they hustled closer. “Who’s firing out here?”
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing hair off her face and looking anything but fine.
The men reached them, one of them holding a pistol of his own. “Let ’er go, you bastard.”
Marc ignored the order and asked them, “You know who came out here after her?”
The two men looked at each other, then at him. One ofthem said, “Don’t lie, lad. I know she was runnin’ from you.” He bent down on his knee in front of Devyn. “Come with me, miss.”
For a second, Marc thought she would. But she just shook her head and held up a hand. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”
“You don’t wanna stay with him, do ya?” The man pointed at Marc. “No need to, lass. Come
“You’re not wanted around here.” He punctuated that with a spit to the side.
That was basically the same thing the man at the hotel had told her. Was it the same man? Is this what he meant by things
would get worse?
“Diggin’ around for trouble is what you’re doin’. We know you had someone look at her bags.”
Oh, God. This wasn’t random. It wasn’t a mugging or a kidnapping. This was about Sharon.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“None of your fucking business.” He grabbed for heragain, but she dodged him, scooting to the side and breaking away.
“Who are you and how do you know me?” she demanded. She’d fight the damn knife if she had to, but she wanted answers.
He lunged for her, but she managed to throw herself out of his way, rolling to the ground and scrambling to her feet, glancing
over her shoulder to catch the glint of the knife as he launched toward her.
“Bitch!” He jumped on her, pushing her back down with a crack of her back on the brick pavement, his weight like a truck on
her. “No trouble, huh?” Spittle flew as he growled the words. “The doctor was fucking wrong about that.”
The knife came down right next to her face, and Devyn turned her head and shrieked, the blade just missing. He slammed his
knee onto her stomach, making her grunt in pain.
He raised his hand to stab again. Time froze as she stared at the knife, her elbows locked, her hands fisted on his shirt,
trying desperately to hold off the inevitable. She could feel the bones in her arms almost snap with his weight as she choked
on another scream lodged in her throat.
She shook her head, her only hope to be a moving target. The knife came straight for her throat, the air moving as it fell.
The world exploded with noise and light and the punch of pain as his whole body fell on hers, and everything went black.
Marc vaulted over a crate, his Glock still aimed at the dark figure he’d just shot in the alley. The body slumped over Devyn,
and Marc didn’t dare take another shot for fear of hitting her.
The guy rolled off her or she pushed him off; he couldn’t tell. But all that mattered was that her attacker still had enough
strength to haul himself to his feet. Marc aimed again, but Devyn was getting up, too.
“Stay down!” he ordered.
“Don’t kill him!” she yelled.
He ran closer, not sure he’d heard her right, giving the guy just enough time to take off. Marc whipped the pistol directly
at him, cupping his right hand to get a dead aim.
“He knows…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, too breathless from the fight.
Holding his shoulder, the guy stumbled to the end of the alley. Marc reached Devyn, dividing his attention between the assailant
and her, making sure she was okay.
As he did, a BMW roared up to the alley entrance, slowing down as someone in the backseat threw open a door. Devyn’s attacker
leaped in, and the engine and tires screamed as they peeled away.
Marc dropped to his knees. “Jesus, Devyn, what the hell happened?”
“Hey!” From the pub, several men poured out of the door, drawn by the gunshots, no doubt.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
“What’s going on?” one of the men yelled as they hustled closer. “Who’s firing out here?”
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing hair off her face and looking anything but fine.
The men reached them, one of them holding a pistol of his own. “Let ’er go, you bastard.”
Marc ignored the order and asked them, “You know who came out here after her?”
The two men looked at each other, then at him. One ofthem said, “Don’t lie, lad. I know she was runnin’ from you.” He bent down on his knee in front of Devyn. “Come with me, miss.”
For a second, Marc thought she would. But she just shook her head and held up a hand. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”
“You don’t wanna stay with him, do ya?” The man pointed at Marc. “No need to, lass. Come
Similar Books
