“What’s going on?” Ty asked calmly. He took a step away and to the side, hoping the man’s attention would follow him.
It didn’t work. His focus never wavered from Morgan’s face.
“What the fuck do you think?” he said. “Give us what we want and no one will get hurt.”
Like hell.
This was exactly why Ty hated the Bratva. They had the worst damned timing.
Chapter Nine
Morgan stared at the gun pointed straight at her chest.
She couldn’t move, no matter how hard she tried. It was like everything inside her had frozen the second Ty had turned and she’d seen the long black barrel.
“Your purse,” the man shouted.
Morgan blinked.
She understood the words, even with the man’s thick Russian accent. She knew what she needed to do, but her body refused to act. Fear was overriding everything. It was shutting her down.
And it was going to get her killed.
The realization flipped a switch somewhere inside her. Her limbs surged back to life.
If the man wanted her purse. He could have it. If this was a mugging, she just wanted to get it over with.
Morgan pulled the strap over her head and flung it in his direction. The man snatched it out of the air. His lips curled up in a smile.
But he didn’t lower his gun.
He took another step toward her.
Morgan threw her hands in the air. “You have my purse.”
“You’re right. I do,” he said.
“I don’t have anything else of value. I swear.”
“I know.” His exposed teeth gleamed in the overhead light.
“I have something you might be interested in,” Ty said. Morgan swiveled around toward him. Why the hell was he drawing any attention to himself? The guy was all but ignoring him. If he played his cards right he could get out of this unharmed. “But you’re going to have to come and get it from me.”
“J-just give them what they want, Ty,” she pleaded with him. This wasn’t time to play the White Knight. Didn’t he understand? This guy had a gun, and he looked like he meant business.
The man in front of her turned his head toward Ty, but the gun didn’t follow.
Ty lowered one of his hands, and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He held it out in front of him in his open palm.
The man looked down at it for a second before taking a step toward Ty. He reached out to grab the wallet.
Ty moved like a flash. One second his hand was stretched out in front of him, the next it was wrapped around the mugger’s arm. Before Morgan could blink, Ty violently wrenched the man’s arm up, and the guy fell to his knees with a yelp.
But he wasn’t down completely. Their attacker raised his good hand, the one with the gun in it and pointed it at Ty’s midsection. Ty wrapped his fingers around the barrel and twisted it around. The man’s wrist gave a sickening snap, and he crumpled to the pavement.
Ty palmed the stolen weapon and turned toward the parked car. Morgan watched with wide eyes as the second attacker stepped out of the driver’s side door. Ty didn’t hesitate for even a second. He pulled the trigger.
Morgan screamed as the fierce blare of gunshot hit her ears.
The driver fell to the street.
Morgan covered her mouth. She struggled to pull in air through her fingers. What the hell was happening?
Morgan turned toward Ty for answers, but found that he wasn’t done just yet. Ty straddled the man on the ground in front of him and pointed the barrel at his head.
The man stared at Ty and stopped writhing. He closed his eyes, and bared his teeth, as though he accepted his fate.
Panic swelled inside her.
“No!” Morgan screamed.
She shouldn’t have worried.
Ty pulled back his hand and smashed the butt of the gun against the attacker’s face. The man’s body went slack on the sidewalk. Ty grabbed her purse off the ground and tossed it back to her.
“Wh-wha—” Morgan could barely get her mouth to work as Ty stood. He strode toward her, the gun still cradled in his hand.
“Come on.” He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her away from the building, toward his bike.
Morgan stumbled backwards, her gaze fixed on her attacker. Streams of blood poured from his nose and mouth.
“Is he dead?”
“Which one?”
“Either.”
“That guy? No. Just unconscious.” She heard his keys rattle as he pulled them from his pocket. “And as long as your neighbors called 911 right after hearing the gun shot, the other guy won’t bleed out from his shoulder wound before the ambulance arrives.”
Morgan stared up at him with wide eyes. He was so calm…unnaturally so. Who the hell was this guy? Because she knew who he wasn’t.
He sure as hell wasn’t just some random bartender. She was certain of that.
“Should we go help him?” she asked as she was hauled to the curb.
“No time,” he said, throwing his leg over the bike. “We need to be gone before the cops arrive.”
“We do?”
“I don’t have time to explain right now. You’re just going to have to trust me.”