Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(72)
The last cracker from her pitchfork blew out. Time to go for a replacement. But before that, she had something else to do. She moved toward the kid crying in front of her. She forgot always how scary the whole event looked like to small children.
“Hey,” she said pulling down her hood and the scarf. “This is just a costume, buddy. Nothing else. Don’t cry.”
The kid looked at her, his tiny arms tightly hugging his mother’s neck. Finding out she was not a demon seemed to reassure him and, sniffing, he let out a shaky smile.
As she was turning around, she bumped into someone. She lifted her gaze to apologize and the words froze in her throat.
Intent, mocking eyes stared back at her.
“Miss Cooper, we do meet in the strangest places,” Maldonado said. “I decided to come personally and make sure all goes smoothly. You tend to slip through everybody’s fingers.”
Elle tried to backtrack, but the crowd kept pushing at her. Then she realized it wasn’t the crowd, but four huge men who were flanking her. All the Krav Maga self-defense classes she’d taken on how to fight in small places and she’d forgotten the basics: don’t let them into your space.
She nailed one in the nose and another in the groin, but she was badly outnumbered and the third guy punched her in the face, sending her to the ground. The blistering pain blurred her sight, leaving her disoriented, fighting not to black out. Strong arms restrained her immediately, yanking her up, and when the man with the bleeding nose was going to retaliate, Maldonado stopped him. “Not here.”
She thrashed feebly, but it was useless. No one was paying attention. She couldn’t see Jack, or any of the Bowens. Heck, she had trouble seeing anything. The phoenix had been charged and was ramming people and spitting fire and creating havoc. Everyone was being pushed over and as far as she could tell, not a single soul noticed they were dragging her away.
Jack fought his way through the crowd, and, when he made it around the corner, he saw Maldonado, followed by Nico and four of his henchmen flanking Elle. The feeling of relief soon turned into fury.
He wasn’t going to reach them in time. Too many people in between them. The wackos pushing the dragon started lunging forward, opening a path, so Jack jumped on its back until it was near Elle and then threw himself at her assailants, who, caught by surprise, released her.
“Run,” Jack yelled at her as he fought two of Maldonado’s men. She hesitated, looking disoriented and overwhelmed—in shock probably—so he pushed her away from Nico and Maldonado. “I said run.”
He incapacitated one of the thugs and engaged another, but he was unable to stop all of them from going after Elle again, until suddenly James and Cole appeared, coming to his rescue. Jack caught up with one of the men after her and watched, relieved, as the crowd swallowed her before Nico or any of the other henchmen could grab her. Maldonado rushed ahead, trying to get into a car. Jack reached for him, but Nico intercepted him.
He fought the Russian off, losing precious seconds while Maldonado got into the car. Fuck, the bastard was getting away.
Jack couldn’t fire his gun; he didn’t have a clear shot and there were too many civilians in the crossfire, but Nico didn’t have that problem. He pointed at Jack and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed him, hitting the car that was speeding away. The driver lost control and the vehicle crashed into the stash of explosives on the square, a huge ball of fire lighting up the night, the sound deafening. The expansive soundwave left him disoriented for a long second, but he shook it away and managed to get on his feet. By then Nico was nowhere to be seen.
“Jack, you copy?” he heard from the earbud.
It was James.
“Yes. Max and Cole?”
“Fine.”
“James,” he called out, fighting to make himself heard among the screams, “where is Elle? Do you see her?”
“No, I don’t,” came the voice of his friend.
Fuck, where was she?
“Elle?” he yelled, frantic. He had to find her. He hadn’t seen her being forced into the car with Maldonado, but he’d lost sight of her. Maybe she’d been run over, or got caught in the explosion. His mind was going crazy with possibilities, his pulse racing, his heart about to come out of his chest. The iceman was f*cking panicking.
Then he spotted her, standing shakily amid the smoke and the debris, looking around as if she couldn’t make sense of what was going on. The breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rushed out of him in a whoosh and before he could order his body to move, he was already with her, enveloping her tiny body in his arms. Thank f*cking God. Alive.
“You okay, pet?” he whispered to her. The paint on her face had gotten smudged and was a mess. Between that and the black smoke, he couldn’t see if she was injured.
She said nothing, just nodded, hugging him tight, her nails digging into him.
He didn’t let her go either. Not while the paramedics were attending to her. Not after the cops showed up and started questioning them. And when they wanted to take her in for a statement, he’d put his foot down. He gave them his cell number and told them he was taking her home. They didn’t argue. Neither did she.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack had taken her to what she assumed was his place. Too shocked to manage the shower on her own, he’d stepped in with her, washing her face, the water running black and red from the paint. Swearing at the bruises on her face. Then he’d put her into a humongous bathtub in the corner, windows in the walls along both sides affording a fantastic view. Unfortunately, Elle was too overwhelmed to appreciate it.