Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(18)

So he quickly strode to a nearby shelf and palmed a simple Glock 19. When he slid out the magazine, he found the clip fully loaded. Nice. Slamming it back into the grip, he shoved the weapon into the waistband at the back of his jeans, carefully concealing it with the tail of his loose shirt.

Next, he chose a Smith and Wesson five-inch, double-edged boot knife. Once he satisfied himself with its sharpness by checking the tip with his thumb, he slipped it into its custom sheath and clipped it to his front jeans pocket. Again, he was careful to hide it under his shirt. And though he wasn’t wearing boots, that didn’t mean he couldn’t utilize an ankle holster…

Strolling over to the next set of shelves, he let his eyes roam over the array of polished weaponry and chose a Kel-Tec .380 Auto. Sometimes they had the tendency to jam if you soft-wristed them, but he never soft-wristed a pistol. And though its six-round capacity wasn’t much, it was the only thing small enough to fit inside the calf of his jeans.

After securing it to his ankle, he grabbed an extra clip for both the Glock and the Kel-Tec and pocketed them before beating feet out of the building.

Securing the door behind him, he turned and glanced around the courtyard at the other outbuildings, wondering what surprises they held.

Goddamn, they really did it, he thought, taking a moment to feel pride in what Boss and Rock had built here in big, bad Chi-Town.

Then his eyes landed on Shell, and any warm fuzzies melted away like sunscreen on a hot day.

Damn.

Ice-cold fear shot through his veins, because even though he’d faced some of the most evil motherf*ckers ever to be born and hadn’t batted a lash, the thought of something happening to Shell, especially on his watch, was enough to have sweat slicking his palms and sliding coldly between his shoulder blades.

“So?” she asked once he retook his seat, carefully arranging himself so his position didn’t impede his ability to quickly grab his weapons. In her chair, she unconsciously swayed side-to-side to soothe the sleeping boy, though the look on her face was anything but calm. “What’s going on?”

“Your big brother has made some enemies,” he admitted and watched her slim throat work over a hard swallow.

“Wh-what kind of enemies?”

For a moment, he thought of giving her the standard, don’t worry, doll, we got it all under control. But he knew that wouldn’t fly. So instead, he gave her the unvarnished truth. “The kind that want to kill him.”

“What?” she squawked. Franklin stirred against her chest, making a disgruntled noise followed by a little snort before she managed to shush him back to sleep. She lowered her voice and asked, “Who wants to kill him?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, hoping to fool her with his feigned unconcern. Then he noticed her pulse hammering away at the base of her throat and realized he hadn’t quite managed it.

Obviously, you need to brush up on your acting skills, Sommers.

Okay, so he’d try a different tack. “There’s really no reason to worry, you know.”

“No?” She raised a disbelieving brow.

“Nah,” he scoffed, though the hairs on the back of his neck had twanged upright the minute all those cell phones started ringing, and they were still waving around like little danger-barometers even now. “We’re secure as long as we stay inside these walls. They’re thick enough to protect us from pretty much anything. Not to mention the security cameras keeping watch around the entire perimeter.”

“Yeah,” she huffed, hugging Franklin to her chest and burying her nose in the boy’s hair. “It’s not the security I’m worried about. It’s the reason for the security that’s the problem. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have brought Franklin—”

“Look at me, Shell,” he commanded softly, his heart double-timeing it when she turned those soulful, gray eyes on him. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, you hear me? Never.”

I’ll die first.

And that was the one true thing he knew in this world…

***

Don’t say things like that to me! she wanted to scream.

Mostly because they were precisely the kinds of words—sweet ones, not cruel—she’d longed to hear on that rainy day four years ago. And hearing them now only served as a bitter reminder that it was too late.

Too late for anything, for…everything.

To her utter chagrin, hot tears hovered behind her eyes, and she’d be damned if she’d let him see. Quickly turning away, she placed another comforting kiss on top of Franklin’s head. “Please don’t cry, Shell,” he whispered and, crap, so much for trying to play it cool. “I know you’re scared, but I will protect you.”

He thought she was on the verge of tears because she was afraid?

Well, who wouldn’t, you daft woman? There are people trying to get in here to kill your brother!

Okay, and truthfully, she was scared. Petrified, in fact. But that wasn’t the reason for her tears. The sweat slicking the back of her neck and dampening her hair? Yep, that was from the fear. But not the tears. Oh, no. They were all about him…

Of course, it was best to let him think what he wanted, play to his assumption. At least then she could use the excuse of her fear to keep the conversation on some sort of stable footing because, for the first time, they were alone.