Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(111)

Beard shook his head and snapped out, “No such address. She lied.”

“You f*ckin’ cunt.” Billy started toward Anne.

“Brother. No. That one’s got to be able to talk.” Ogre glanced at the red-shirted man and pointed to Jessica. “Cut that bitch.”

“No,” Anne cried. “Wait—”

Red Shirt yanked out a knife from his belt sheath and grabbed for Jessica.

Even as Anne charged across the room, Jessica jumped sideways, out of reach.

Kim threw the lamp.

The metal base struck the side of his head and knocked him back a step.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” Chewing-Tobacco lunged at Kim. She dodged but tripped over a side table and landed on her side on the floor.

Knife first. “You!” Anne shouted at Red Shirt. Skidding to a stop, she pivoted. Powered with all her anger, her sidekick smashed into the man’s leg. The crunch of a knee bending in a direction it wasn’t designed for was accompanied by his shriek. The knife hit the floor; then he did.

Ogre backhanded her.

Pain exploded in her cheek.

Falling.

Her head slammed into the floor.





“What the f*ck was that?” Travis asked from the stoop of Anne’s front door.

Ben knew. A man in agony. He hadn’t heard that since Iraq.

Shoving Travis aside, he tried the door handle. Locked.

Why the hell had he given her key back? He sprinted toward the back. If necessary, he could bust through the deck’s sliding glass door.

Pounding footsteps sounded behind him as he rounded the side of the house, went up the steps three at a time, and across the rain-drenched deck.

Both glass and screen doors stood open and the inside was chaos.

Fighting filled the room. Men with hose over their heads. One rolled on the floor, holding his leg. The rest… Where was Anne?

Ben’s rage erupted. The bastards had attacked women. A slight brunette—Kim—punched a bearded guy with her tiny fist forcefully enough to stop him—and then Jessica hit him over the head with an end table.

Anne was on the ground.

Shit!

A puny-ass punch thumped into Ben’s ribs, and he shoved the attacker over the couch and headed toward—

Anne scrambled to her feet, unsteady, staggering clumsily away from a f*cking big bastard, shaking her head. The man swung at her.

“No,” Ben roared.

She dodged and whirled, her leg rising, rising, and the top of her bare foot smashed into the man’s temple. He went down.

Two men remained. One turned toward her.

“Assholes.” Ben charged the short bastard standing in the way of his goal. He buried his fist in the man’s gut and followed with a right hook to the jaw that broke everything moveable and ensured the bastard’d be sucking his food through a straw for a long time to come.

The bearded, lamp-victim staggered to his feet and charged Jessica. Travis and Stephan intercepted.

Ben turned his sights on the last one. Even bigger than Ben and bulky. Fine target. Ben swung.

The man sidestepped far enough that Ben’s punch caught only his ribs. With a grunt, * absorbed the blow and counter-punched with a meaty fist.

Ben slapped his arm to one side.

“Billy!” With a livid bruise marring her cheek, Anne stared at the *. Her expression was purely furious, her temper white hot. And she wasn’t ready to quit.

Ben almost…almost took the guy out, but pulled his punch at the last minute.

Hell.

Some men gave their women flowers to apologize.

If her temper was riled, Anne was liable to return a bouquet, aiming it right at his head. But there were other ways to ask forgiveness.

Like a Billy present. Still wanting to kill the *, Ben grabbed his collar, tossed him into a wall to keep him busy, and called, “I’m sorry for what I said, Ma’am.”

Diverted, Anne turned her steel-gray gaze to Ben.

“Can I make it up to you?” He caught the bastard on the rebound and shoved him toward her. “A treat?”

“What?” She dodged the staggering * and kicked his legs out from under him.

Billy landed, and the house shook.

“What are you doing here, Benjamin?” When Billy lunged to his feet, Anne punched him in the chin and propelled him back toward Ben.

“Apologizing. I f*cked up…thought you’d gone back to your pretty boy.” Just thinking about the little shit added a bit of emphasis when Ben backhanded the dazed * across the face. He pushed him to Anne.

She muttered something about her posse being right. After ducking under Billy’s wild swing, she sidekicked him in the gut and returned him to Ben. “You idiot, I love you. Why would I want Joey?”

The words…the words…paralyzed Ben completely. Love? She loved him? The thrill ran up his spine, sending rockets exploding in the air, making his ears ring.

Something thumped his belly, and he realized the * had hit him. Forgetting even to reprimand him, Ben snorted in disgust and tossed him to Anne. “Me, too. You. We need to talk.”

“I agree. It’s time.” She took out the man with a blazing jab-jab to the stomach, and a left hook to the jaw, followed by a right cross.

“Bravo Zulu, Ma’am,” Well done.