Stifling a gasp, she silently eased back in, heart racing painfully in her chest. Fuck, that had been close. Mind whirling, she tried to decide on her next step. If he kept coming closer, in a few passes he’d be close enough that the open window would be obvious, and then she lost the element of surprise.
But what could she do? She was a decent shot, but she’d never tried on a moving target while she half hung out of a window.
She didn’t have another option. She had to climb outside.
Closing her eyes, she listened as his voice faded then became stronger again, suppressing a shiver when it sounded like he was right next to her. Then came the sound of his voice backing away, and she let out a slow breath.
It was time to do this.
Stuffing the gun in the waistband of her jeans, just like Bolt did, she started moving, refusing to think about what she was doing. All that mattered was that it was time to repay the debt she owed Bolt.
He’d saved her life, and it was time to save his.
Keeping one eye on Shawn, thankful that there was a convenient bench outside the window and wanting to kiss whoever put it there, she silently climbed outside. She hated—yeah, it was a strong word, but it was the truth, too—her parents for many reasons, but she sent them a grudging thought of thanks.
If they hadn’t tortured her with years of dance, she might not have managed to get outside without falling like an ungraceful sack of potatoes.
The moment her feet touched the grass, still dewy in the early morning light, she grabbed the gun out of her waistband and flicked off the safety. Next to the bench, there were boxes stacked up and she darted next to them, heart pounding erratically.
But her hands were steady on the gun, and that was what mattered most. Thank God she’d taken all those lessons.
There was a gap between the boxes and the wall, and she peeked through it, looking carefully. Bolt’s window was at the end of the clubhouse and Shawn was moving slowly, like he was out strolling on a carefree Sunday afternoon. Which meant, in the time it took her to get out of the window and in position, he was still only halfway down to the other end and wouldn’t be turning around just yet.
Closing her eyes for a few heartbeats, she forced steel into her spine. He’d already hurt Bolt, was planning on killing him, and soon, probably her, too. Along with anyone who got in his way this morning.
As much as he needed to be stopped, and much as she longed to stop him, she knew it wouldn’t be easy taking another life. Even one as evil as her ex.
She wasn’t changing her mind, and she wasn’t backing down. She just needed a moment to mentally prepare.
“I’m gonna tan your little ass until it’s pink when we get inside.”
Jumping at words murmured in her ear, she let out a soft squeak that was smothered when Bolt slapped his hand over her mouth.
It took a few moments to her brain to catch up, even while her body, already so attuned to his, slumped with relief. When she realized it was really him behind her, a rush of emotion washed over her, so strong she almost swayed.
“I thought you were hurt,” she said almost silently, her lips brushing against his palm as she spoke.
His words when he replied were barely a puff of air. “I’m fine. Tell you later.”
Nodding as he removed his hand, she immediately twisted her head around, desperate to see for herself that he was okay. The first thing she felt was relief when she saw his large body hunched over behind her, in what had to be an uncomfortable position.
The second thing she felt was a rush of panic when she saw the blood trickling from his temple.
Gasping, she spun to face him, forgetting about Shawn, the fact that they were in danger—forgetting everything except the fact that he was hurt.
Bolt shook his head in warning, but it was too late. She was already spinning, and then she lost her balance, falling into the boxes. Flinging her hand out to keep her balance, she winced as the gun she’d forgotten she held banged into the wall.
His hands shot out to steady her and the boxes wobbled but didn’t fall—but that wasn’t what gave her away.
The gun hitting the side of the clubhouse did that.
“I hear you,” Shawn called, his voice damned near giddy, sounding like he was facing their direction again. “Is that you, darling? Or is someone else? Just give Anastasia to me now, and I’ll let you live. No need to get hurt protecting a whore. She’s mine. Let me leave with her and no one else has to get hurt.”
Bolt’s hazel eyes turned that eerie, inhuman green as he glared at her, warning her without words to not move. And then before she could stop him, he stood to his full height, walking away from her hiding spot and drawing Shawn’s attention away.
“You made a mistake when you came here, motherfucker.”
Shivering at her mate’s deadly tone, she twisted—carefully this time—until she could see through the crack again. Shawn was facing Bolt, closer than she’d like, and her blood ran cold when she noticed the guns in his hands.
Was he fucking kidding? She’d seen one at the small of his back when he was facing away from her, and now he had two more. Three fucking guns? He thought he needed that much firepower?
Ignoring the little voice whispering that she’d already been around Bolt too long, judging by the amount of f-bombs she was suddenly dropping, she considered her spineless, preppy
