I want to know what it’s like to be with her. Or someone like her. It’s not because she’s beautiful. It’s because she’s full of fire. Mac is the kind of girl that when she’s in, she’s all in. An everything or nothing girl. One who can handle death and pain and still remain standing strong by your side.
I killed my old man. In cold blood. Casey knows, as does Grace and my Sentinel brothers. But only a woman like Mac could see through the fa?ade of indifference and into the heart of the scared little boy inside who pulled the trigger. The same one who couldn’t bear to hear his mother scream from one more brutal hit or see her buckle under the pummel of her husband’s fists. That little boy saw her die, and then he did what he had to do.
That dumb young kid didn’t belong in the Sentinels, but he does now. My new reality is hard and cold. There’s no place for love.
Our bikes crest over the hill toward the warehouse. My helmet is off and strapped to the back of my Harley because it annoys the fuck out of me. My blond hair is pulled into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. Strands whip across my face and sunglasses as we rumble down the road. Cars pull to the side, getting out of our way. It’s clear we mean business. And we do.
Luke and I arrive first. I’m off my bike and running before my brothers even stop behind us. I don’t care about the police and their Operation Strike. It’s all been blown to shit anyway because I hear shots being fired inside the warehouse.
Mitch is running around the side of the building. I follow. The gun from my saddlebag is already resting in the back of my jeans. I tug it out and engage the slide. He doesn’t hesitate and runs straight through the roller doors that two police officers wrench up.
“Mac!” he yells. “Gabriella!”
I run in behind him with Fox close behind me. The scene is a slaughter. Bullets are flying from all directions. Mac is down and bleeding profusely from her leg. She’s covered in blood, and I can’t see where else she’s been hit. Gabriella is down too, and Ross is unmoving on the ground, splayed on his side. Jake is beaten and barely recognisable. He’s wrestling with another man, struggling to disarm him.
“Cover me!” I shout to Fox and duck low, running toward them as he lets loose a hail of gunfire.
Mitch is two steps ahead of me when Jake’s opponent cracks his elbow into what already looks like a broken eye socket on his face. Jake’s head smacks back onto the concrete. In that split second of inattention, the man rolls to his side and spies us running toward them. He takes in the Sentinels’ cut I’m wearing over my leather jacket and lifts his gun, pointing it at me. He fires but his aim is off and the bullet hits Mitch.
Blood sprays in an arc from his neck, the force of the bullet slamming him backward and into me. I stumble and with my balance lost we both go down. Mac’s brother lands on top of me, a river of red gushing from his wound.
“Fuck,” I hiss and start dragging my body out from beneath his heavy weight. He’s still alive. His breathing is rapid, his chest rising and falling as he sucks in air. I jam a finger in the wound and he shouts a gritty curse of pain. I freeze when a pair of boots reach my line of sight. My eyes draw upward.
“Eli,” Mitch gasps, his eyes on the man standing over us.
Eli crouches, dropping his gun. It skitters away, out of his reach. He shakes his head, visibly shaken. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“It … was … always going to lead to … this,” Mitch chokes out.
“You knew about me,” he says, his voice accusatory.
“For years,” Mitch gasps.
“You never said a word.”
“You know what they say …” Mac’s brother chuckles but it’s not a happy sound and blood spills from his lips. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Eli can only shake his head. “My brother is dead.”
“Good.” Jake’s voice is hard and comes from behind him. Eli rises and turns. Jake has no gun, but he holds a piece of splintered wood in his hands. “He deserved to die. And so do you.”
Jake swings hard. The makeshift weapon cracks into the side of Eli’s head. Skin splits open, and he hits the ground hard. It knocks him out and with the threat contained, it leaves me free to snag the radio from Mitch’s gun belt.
With one hand putting pressure on Mitch’s wound, I use the other to hit the button and put the call out for more than one ambulance. I’m just about to speak when the sound of sirens render the air. They’re already on their way.
JAKE
I toss the piece of splintered wood away, relieved the Rossiter brothers are both down. I was so tired of the threat Ross held over my life for years, and now it’s gone. But the ache at what I’ve done under his orders still remains. I have to live with that, but I’ll live with it happily if I know he can never touch anyone I love ever again.
I turn, my eyes finding Mac. She’s hurting. When I start for her my ankle is grabbed. I look down. It’s Ross. He’s not dead like we thought. He manages to yank hard and the unexpected motion drops me to my knees. I twist around, forming a hard fist.
Ross is trying to rise when I smash it in his face. He stumbles backward, hot blood spurting from his nose as he rights himself. The image fills me with grim satisfaction. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Mac’s voice is steel. “No you won’t.”
We both turn toward her. She’s standing upright, putting all her weight on her left leg. There’s a bullet hole in her right thigh. She’s wearing black but it doesn’t hide the gaping wound and the ooze of blood running down her leg. It’s bright and thick. Her face is pale and clammy, but her eyes are raging. There’s a gun in her hand. It’s Eli’s. She must have found it on the ground.
“You already have one death on your hands,” she says and before I can blink, she lifts the weapon and shoots. Ross drops, a dead weight, with a single, perfect bullet hole lodged in his forehead. “Now I do too.”
“Mac,” I whisper.
A choking sob escapes her throat, and the gun drops from her hand. She starts to crumple, as if shooting him was all she had to give and now there’s nothing left.
I rush forward, catching her before she hits concrete. Mac sags against me and we both sink to the floor because I have nothing left either.
“Mitch?” she asks, her voice reedy and thin.
I glance his way. Kelly has him, his fingers jammed into his neck to halt the flow, but blood is still seeping. It doesn’t look good and my heart sinks. “He’s going to be fine,” I lie.
“Promise me,” she begs, her fingers clutching at the tatters of my shirt.
But I can’t promise. Mac watches my mouth open and close and tears leak from her eyes. Instead of giving an answer, I pull back a little and rip the shredded remains of my shirt from around my waist, gathering a long strip to form a bandage. I tie it in a tight knot around her wound, just above the thigh, and she curses in a low, savage growl. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I soothe, pulling her against me when I’m done, rocking her gently.
“Your face,” she sobs against my chest, not even looking at it.
“It’s fine,” I soothe but it must be a mess. The throb of pain is constant now, and every inhale feels like I’m being stabbed. “I’m fine.”