A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(94)

“I don’t trust her not to kill you.”

Natasha’s glare dripped venom, but she said nothing. Martine hesitated, glancing back and forth between them, then dropped her hand without further argument.

Leila threw her head back with a dramatic groan. “Fine. Then Levi can go with Natasha.”

“No,” said Dominic.

As they approached the sidewalk, one of the sirens seemed far closer than the rest-and for good reason. “Those cops who were dispatched to the Whitby are about to be right on your ass,” Carmen said. “Time to make a decision.”

“We-hey, what’s in your mouth?” Dominic said to Rebel, who’d been trotting at his side. “Oh gross, is that skin?” He holstered his gun, knelt, and pried her jaw open.

Martine stepped onto the sidewalk beside them. “This is like that riddle about crossing the lake-”

Screeeech.

An SUV fishtailed up to the curb, all of its doors flying open at once, and men poured out of it with guns blazing.

Natasha was closest to the garage, and she ducked back around the corner. But Leila flinched and lost her grip on the motorcycle, which toppled over onto her leg. Martine, dropping her shotgun to draw her Glock, scrambled toward her.

And Dominic-Dominic was caught on his knees and without a weapon, completely unprepared.

With the odd, slow-motion tunnel vision of impending doom, Levi saw a man aim for Dominic’s head. Behind him, a shot rang out, and Martine screamed.

Levi spun sideways and flung himself over Dominic.

A bullet slammed into his back.





Levi’s body collapsed on top of Dominic, heavy and inert.

Dead weight, Dominic’s brain supplied.

As Dominic rotated on his knees, he caught Levi with one arm and drew his gun with the other. The man who’d shot Levi took a bullet to the brain before he could fire a second time. A second gunman went down under a hundred snarling pounds of muscle and teeth.

To his left, Natasha darted out from cover to drag an injured Leila to safety. Martine laid down suppressive fire as she went with them, her left arm bleeding profusely from a nasty bullet wound.

Dominic continued returning fire as well, causing the Utopia bastards to take refuge behind the open doors of their SUV. But there was no chance he’d get himself and Levi to safety before they were gunned down. They were too exposed, too outnumbered, too far from any source of cover.

He’d just have to take as many of these fuckers with him as he could.

A police car skidded around the corner, barreling toward them with lights flashing and sirens wailing. Spitting curses, the remaining able-bodied Utopia soldiers piled into the SUV and fled, abandoning their dead and injured comrades as they rocketed in the opposite direction.

Instead of chasing the SUV, the cop car braked in front of the garage. Two uniformed officers emerged, guns at the ready.

“Everybody freeze!” one bellowed as their feet pounded along the pavement. “Drop your weapons!”

Dominic did drop his gun, but only so he could lay Levi out on the sidewalk. He tore off Levi’s hoodie, ripping it in his haste, and unstrapped one side of Levi’s vest so he could plunge his hand in to search Levi’s back.

All of the air left his lungs in one noisy gust. No blood, no wound. The bullet hadn’t fully penetrated the vest.

“I said hands on your head!” One of the cops leveled his gun at Dominic from a few feet away. Rebel growled at Dominic’s side, her hackles rising.

“Settle.” Dominic gently released Levi and raised his hands in the air.

The cop glanced at Levi, then did a double-take. His aggressive stance wavered.

“Detective Abrams?” he said, at the same time a second voice from the garage exclaimed, “Detective Valcourt?”

“Stand down, officers,” came Martine’s weary voice.

The cop covering Dominic lowered his gun but didn’t holster it. He jerked his chin toward Levi. “Is he . . .”

As if those were the magic words, Levi coughed, drew a labored breath, and groaned. “Ugh, fuck, oh my God.” His eyes fluttered open. “Yeah, that’s exactly what my back needed.”

With a laugh that was more than half-sob, Dominic cradled Levi’s face and bent to kiss him. “You absolute fucking bastard,” he mumbled against Levi’s mouth, then kissed him again, until Rebel whined and tried to get in on the action.

Levi smiled when Dominic pulled back, his breathing still pained. Though he didn’t move, his gaze traveled from Dominic to Rebel to the cop standing over them, and Dominic could see him processing the implications. “Martine-she screamed-”

Dominic checked on Martine, who was speaking to the other officer where the garage’s exit ramp met the sidewalk. She was cradling her left arm, which was bound up with Leila’s jacket, but she was managing to stay on her feet. Beside her, Leila was leaning on Natasha to keep the weight off her hurt leg.

“Martine took a bullet to the arm, but it looks like she’s got the bleeding under control for now,” Dominic said. “I think she’ll be okay.”

The cop finally jammed his gun into his holster. “What the hell is going on? We got a flood of 911 calls about shots fired at this address.”

“That was us fighting Utopia.” Levi’s fingers snagged Dominic’s sleeve. “Help me up.”