The light turned green. Cage paused, then cursed as he slung an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street. He pulled into the parking lot behind the salon with a sigh. “If my brother makes it through this, he’s going to kill me. And I don’t care. If you can do anything…”
When he braked beside her compact, she laid a hand on his. “It’s a slim possibility, but I’ll do everything I can.”
With that promise, she jumped out and slid into her little car, screeching out of the parking lot before Cage could maneuver his big truck around to follow her.
It should have taken her at least twenty minutes to reach Lafayette. She made it in twelve. Leaping out of the car and dashing up the walkway to the mid-century modern, she frantically rang the doorbell.
“Please be home.” If not, she’d have to figure out a plan B, but that would take time she didn’t have. “Please be home.”
Suddenly, the door jerked open. Shirtless and scowling, Pierce Walker stood in the entryway, scrutinizing her with fierce black eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I need your help. Please.”
He hesitated, and she wondered if he would turn her away. Then finally, he stepped back and invited her in with a bob of his head. “Tell me what you need.”
She rushed inside. “Cutter’s in danger. He negotiated the release of some hostages from a gunman holding them at a nearby grocery store, but he wouldn’t let his estranged wife go. So Cutter offered his life in exchange for hers. He’s planning to kill Cutter in about two hours.” Tears stung her eyes as she surged forward to grab his steely arms. “I know I’m asking for a lot. I know this isn’t your fight. I know you don’t like him. But I love him so much. Please… Please, save him. I’ll do anything.”
One-Mile stood over Brea’s petite form, searching her big, pleading eyes. She was begging him—of all people—to save her boyfriend’s life.
How fucked up is this?
“What makes you think I can do anything?”
“Aren’t you a Lafayette PD reserve officer?”
He nodded. “But that means I have even less power to make things happen in this situation than a beat cop. I’m sure it’s being handled—”
“Cutter told them all to stand down. Besides, I doubt any of their officers possess your…skill set.”
Now he understood. Oh, hell.
One-Mile slammed the door behind Brea and crowded close. Her scent wafted across his senses and slammed into his brain. The soft sway of her breasts burned his chest with the rise and fall of every breath. His lust surged. Jesus, he ached to touch her, to fucking kiss her until she forgot Cutter Bryant had ever existed.
Fat chance.
“And you’ll do anything if I save him, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So the pretty little preacher’s daughter is offering to fuck me as payment to commit murder?”
She flinched but her stare didn’t waver. “Yes.”
Well, that answered his most burning question. She was so committed to Cutter that she would give a middle finger to her good-girl morals and do the nasty with a man who scared her in order to save the bastard’s life.
Son of a bitch.
He’d deal with that later. But he only wanted Brea if she was wet and hot for him, not because she was martyring herself for another man. Even so, he hated to see her in distress. And she’d never forgive him if he didn’t intervene. Caring at all probably made him a schmuck since she didn’t give two shits about him. But he wouldn’t shut off his internal compass for her or anyone, and it told him to move heaven and hell to keep Brea in his life. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had any qualms about ending a scumbag who’d held innocents hostage. Plus, his bosses would either fire him or slit his throat—his money was on the latter—if he could have saved Cutter and hadn’t.
Reality tasted really fucking bitter.
He managed not to slam his fist into the nearest wall. “I need a few minutes.”
Without a word, he marched to the other side of the house, tore into his home office, then opened the gun safe bolted into the floor.
Brea tiptoed up behind him. Of course he knew. Not only could he hear her, his goddamn body was attuned to her. Every time she came within ten feet of him, his skin fried with lust. His dick got so fucking hard.
“Is that a yes?”
He yanked his MK-13 from where he’d nestled it, retrieved the scope and a tripod, then fished out a box of .300 Magnum rounds. From deeper in the closet, he retrieved a gun case and arranged everything inside, then shut the lid with a final click. “Why not? You want someone dead, pretty girl, I’m your man.”
“You’re angry.” Brea’s face said that troubled her.
He grabbed a long-sleeved camo T-shirt from the hanging rod above, thrust it over his head, and lied like a motherfucker. “Nope. Just putting on my game face.”
Why tell her he was jealous? It served no purpose except to make him feel pitiful as fuck.
“I’m sorry.” She laid a hand against his chest and looked up at him, her expression imploring him to understand. “I know I have no right to ask, but only you can help.”
The shitty thing was, she was right. Sure, the Lafayette Police Department had a SWAT unit. Some of their officers had spent some time in the military. A couple had even served in war zones. But if someone was going to nail this guy from a few hundred yards away without alerting the perp while keeping the loss of civilian and LPD life to nil, he was the guy.
It just pissed him off that Brea was only eager to crawl into bed with him in order to save Bryant.
“That’s why I’m on it. Stay here.”
“Cage and Mama Sweeney are waiting for me back at—”
“No.” He pinned her with a glare. “If you want this
