Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(61)

It kind of felt like he did want to stay, and she’d started to wonder if they could make it work. She reached the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, then quickly drank it down. Better. Much better. She slowly refilled the glass.

The air felt funny. She stilled.

Muscled arms grabbed her from behind.

She stiffened and then struggled. Panic swamped her.

A huge hand, covered in hair, slapped duct tape over her mouth. She screamed for Ryker beneath it, shooting both elbows back into the guy’s gut, panic giving her strength.

Suddenly, the body behind her was ripped away, sending her sprawling into the refrigerator. She fell to the floor. Pain slapped from her hands to her elbows. Two bodies hit and kicked quickly, grunting in anger and pain. One was much slimmer than the other one. “Greg?” She shoved to her feet. The guy he was fighting with wore all black, and something covered his entire head.

Ryker barreled out of the bedroom in a rush of speed.

The front door blew open, and two more men rushed inside, both wearing ski masks and black clothing. Ryker pivoted and attacked both men, tackling them against the wall. Pictures dropped. A gun flew out and spun across the room. Something loud crunched, and one of the men screamed, pain filling the sound.

The guy in the kitchen lifted Greg and threw him. Greg hit the counter, bounced up, and lunged at the attacker right before he could reach Zara.

Zara ripped the tape off her mouth, shoved to her feet, and dove for the gun in the living room. What was going on? Her hands fumbled madly for the weapon.

A foot connected with her chin, and stars flashed behind her eyes. Nausea filled her stomach. God. Tears filled her eyes. Where was the gun? What happened to the gun? She crab-walked across the room, her hands slapping against the floor.

The attacker in the kitchen shoved Greg into cupboards, and pots and pans flew out. Greg kicked up, hitting the guy beneath the chin. The attacker flew back and into the refrigerator.

Zara blinked tears from her eyes. How could this be happening? Her jaw pounded in pain, and dots filled her vision. Ryker fought near the door, taking on two men, punching the first in the jaw. The guy’s head snapped back with an audible crack.

The man in the kitchen punched Greg in the gut. The kid doubled over.

Fury flowed through Zara, and she pivoted to help him.

The attacker slammed Greg on the shoulder and took out a gun. Greg dropped to one knee and looked up, pure rage across his young face. His muscles bunched to move, but the attacker cocked the gun and pointed it at his forehead.

“No!” Zara jumped up, grabbed a cast-iron skillet, and swung with all her strength. It hit the guy in the shoulder, and he partially turned toward her.

Greg swept out his leg, hitting the guy in the knee, and he fell.

Zara swung the skillet again at the guy’s head. The edge hit mid-temple, and the man’s head jerked back, he hit the floor, and bounced. His eyes fluttered shut, and his entire body went limp.

Ryker came flying over the kitchen island, landed hard, and rolled, a gun in his hand. He leaped up, firing into the living room. One guy bellowed in pain, and his buddy grabbed him, yanking him through the door. They ran out into the night.

Zara sucked in air, her head still spinning. She grabbed the counter to keep from going down.

Ryker reached her in seconds. Blood flowed from a cut on his chin, dripping to his bare chest. “You okay?”

She nodded and rubbed her aching jaw. “Yeah. Just got kicked.”

He leaned in and studied her jaw. Tension emanated from him, and with the gun in his hand, he looked like the badass vigilante he was.

The screech of tires outside filled the night.

Greg shoved to his feet and kicked the downed man in the kitchen. The guy didn’t even groan.

Zara hurried through the mess to the boy and tilted his head back. “Oh, sweetie. You’re gonna have a black eye.” The poor kid. Her heart lurched and continued its hammering.

“Not my first.” Greg smiled through bloodied lips, nudging a pot away from his foot. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” The kid could really fight.

Sadness whipped through her. The poor kid must’ve had to know how to fight. As did Ryker. Lost, wounded males all but surrounded her. She reached for a paper towel to press to Greg’s lip. She looked down at the unconscious man. “He duct-taped my mouth.”

Greg gingerly fingered a bruise forming by his cheek. “Was he here for you or me?” He looked at Ryker. “Or you?”

Ryker leaned down and ripped off the face mask. Thick black hair covered the guy’s head along with a matching beard. He had a strong jaw that went with his powerhouse of a body. “Anybody recognize this guy?”

Greg peered closer. “Nope.”

Zara shook her head. “No.” Her knees went weak.

“Whoa.” Ryker tugged her against him for a moment. “Take a deep breath, baby.”

She did so, and her lungs seized. Shuddering, she burrowed into the warm safety he provided. Then she looked into the living room. A chair lay in pieces next to her shattered lamps. One painting hung haphazardly from a corner, and blood marred the throw rug. The front door remained open with the damaged lock half out of the frame. “Should we call the police?”

Ryker studied the guy on the ground. “Not yet.” He crouched and grabbed the duct tape. “Zara? Go pack a bag for a week’s stay. Greg? Get your stuff.” Her grabbed the guy’s arm and started winding the tape around his hairy wrists.