Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(161)

We were good.

Right.

Not even close.

More gunfire but this was Mace returning fire, probably warning shots to let them know he was armed. He only shot twice but the gunfire outside ceased.

I sucked in breath.

“Two and a half minutes, Stel a,” Monty said in my ear.

“I’m movin’,” Mace whispered to me, my heart froze, my neck twisted, my eyes shifted his hard, determined face and my breath disintegrated again.

Then it came back in a fiery rush and I whispered frantical y, “No. They’re two and a half minutes out.”

“Babe, these guys are not stupid but they are desperate.

They’l aim low or kick in. They got no time, they know it and they got six men. We got one with one gun. We don’t have two and a half minutes.”

My hand went from Juno, shot out and I grasped the material of the arm of his tux. “No,” I pleaded.

“Stay low,” he returned.

“No,” I whispered, not to his order but to his going.

He didn’t listen. He jerked his arm free and his eyes shifted to his father.

“She’s in your care,” he whispered, the words held weight, they had meaning no one could miss then he moved, crouched low, he went to the side wal then around the furniture and I lost sight of him.

“Oh my God, Monty,” I whispered into the phone. “Mace is on the move.”

“Fuckin’ f*ck, f**k, f**k. Maverick. Fuck! ” Monty clipped in my ear.

I didn’t feel particularly soothed by this reaction and because of that I felt tears wel in my eyes then I felt Preston close and heard Juno whine. I looked to my dog to see her low on her bel y but her eyes were aimed at where Mace disappeared.

My dog loved my man.

I loved my man.

And he was going to keep me safe.

Or die doing it.

Oh God.

“Monty,” I breathed, my breath now coming fast, in pants, more adrenalin tearing through me, so much, I was tingling from head-to-toe, so much, I could feel it saturating my system. I was drowning in it.

“He’s good, Stel a, he knows what he’s doin’ and he’s been in worse spots than this,” Monty told me.

This was not exactly welcome information. It was actual y scary information but nowhere near scarier than my current scary situation so I let it slide.

Then I thought no more when the sound of more gunfire fil ed the air but through this I heard furniture move (no joke!) and then a door open (oh God!) then a grunt, a shout, more gunfire, more gunfire, stil more gunfire, another grunt, a thud, a man’s scream, more gunfire, another thud, another man’s shout, the sickening sound of bone breaking, a man’s strangled cry, more gunfire…

Then silence.

I held my breath, eyes on my dog, Juno’s eyes not having moved from the spot where she last saw Mace.

“Stel a?” Monty cal ed in the phone.

My head turned and my gaze shifted, catching Preston’s.

He was on his knees, bent forward, torso twisted my way, his body mostly shielding mine from the door. His eyes were on me and I saw it, clear as day, fear was written al over his face and not the kind of fear a man feels when his life was in imminent danger. The kind of fear a man feels when his mind is consumed with the possibility that another one of his children had been struck low.

Even considering the terror I felt which took most of my attention, it was stil difficult to witness.

“Stel a?” Monty’s voice was sharp in my ear.

“Monty,” I whispered back, having nothing else to say, holding Preston’s gaze, reading his look, knowing I was wearing the same terror with only a nuance of difference on my face.

“Please, God, not again,” Preston breathed, my heart twisted, it hurt like a mother then we heard footfal s.

We both jerked our heads toward them, my neck went way back and my eyes fil ed with wet that instantly spil ed over when I saw Mace casual y striding toward us.

His jacket was torn at the shoulder.

That was it.

Just his jacket was torn at his shoulder.

Lordy be.

I surged to my feet and rushed him. He took my ful body impact without even going back on a foot as Juno woofed excitedly over and over again and I felt her body brushing ours as she circled us. Mace’s arm wound around my waist, going tight and his other hand slid the phone out of mine.

I shoved my face in his chest, pressing close, deep, hard, holding him tight and bawling like a baby as I heard him say into the phone, “Current threat neutralized.” For some bizarre, insane reason which likely had a lot to do with the fact that I was temporarily unhinged due to the extreme relief washing through my system, his words made me laugh through my tears, stil burrowing, his arm getting tighter as I did so.

That was when I heard the sirens.

Okay, now I believed we were good.

But only because my man made us that way.

On that thought, I stopped laughing, gulped back a sob and more tears flowed.

* * * * *

I stood outside at the edge of the activity stil wearing my heels. My feet were kil ing me as was the gunshot graze at my hip which I’d landed on when I went down on it in that room. It hadn’t real y hurt for days, just itched. Now it hurt. I had a blanket wrapped around me, a blanket Mace had wrapped around me and this was because, even though it was summer and stil warm, it was late at night and I was trembling and not because it was late at night.