She startled when she heard a man’s raised voice speaking in Spanish. She hadn’t seen anyone enter the store. Or heard the door chimes.
A dark-skinned man in a red Nike running suit with heavy gold bling flashing around his neck was in an intense discussion with the owner. He leaned over the counter and waved a stack of cash in front of her face. The woman didn’t look fazed by his angry tone or posture. She shrugged and then answered in rapid Spanish.
Danni quickly covered her mouth to silence her gasp when Roland Young, the lead guitarist in his rumpled T-shirt and jeans, sauntered into the store from behind the curtain, followed by a bulky man with thick black hair and a snake tattoo on his neck.
Despite the twenty feet between her and Roland’s companions, it didn’t take a biochemist/physicist to conclude that Roland’s companions were nasty players. Her mind raced with possibilities, but nothing added up. Was there a connection between Roland and these gangsters and the stalker? His drug dealers using the store for money laundering was the only logical conclusion. But for what reason would he pretend to be a stalker? To extort money from Alex?
Danni quickly bent over and held her breath. Roland had yet to spot her since she hid behind a rack of clothing. She couldn’t sneak out without Roland and his violent friends seeing her since the damn chimes would ring. She needed to stay cool and bluff her way through this.
“Let me finish with my customer.”
The woman’s voice cut over the hammering of Danni’s frantic heartbeat.
The store went eerily silent.
Danni couldn’t hide any longer. She straightened and put on her game face. She had perfected it after the months of pretending that she wasn’t humiliated by Jax’s deceit.
All three men focused on her. She fought the need to run to the door. Her heart thumped so hard it felt like her chest would explode.
“Roland. Are you now in the T-shirt business?” Okay, so probably not the best way to stay cool.
“What the fuck, Danni? You’re following me?” Roland shouted. His pale face turned a blotchy red.
Danni couldn’t stop the nervous laugh. “Talk about irony, right? Though I was here before you.”
She stepped out from behind the rack to position herself in front of the door, ready to make her exit.
“You fucking idiot. A Fed followed you?” The man in charge pulled out a handgun before Danni could blink. He aimed what looked like a semi-automatic at Danni.
“Miro, she’s not a Fed. She’s Hardy’s girlfriend.”
The man waved his gun between her and Roland. “And it’s a fucking coincidence that she’s here right now. Today, when everything is going down?”
“I don’t know why she’s here, but it has nothing to do with our business.”
Danni inched closer to the door. “Miro” didn’t look like a trusting sort of guy. Miro’s soulless eyes examining her set off five-bell alarms. The man had definitely set fires and tortured birds and cats as a child.
“Get her.” Miro nodded to his lackey.
Danni knew she could outrun the chubby partner with his belly hanging over his blue jeans if she made it out of the door alive.
She bolted through the door. Fear consumed her as she waited for the shot to her back. Her stupid, cheap platform boots slowed her down as she ran into the street. She didn’t pause to look back. No one had shot her yet. She had to get back to the busy alley and lost in the crowd.
Her ankle twisted as she sprinted across the empty street. If they didn’t kill her, she would most likely break her ankle. She tore down the block toward the alley, waiting for her chance to cross the busy intersection.
Finally seeing a chance, she dodged two cars before she dashed across the second street.
She looked over her shoulder at the roar of an engine as a black van barreled down the street.
The van was aimed directly at her. She was too slow. The bastard was going to hit her. How many of them were there?
Her breath came in jagged bursts. She tripped, her weight going over her stupid boots. She tried to break her fall with her hand as she went down. Her head slammed into the curb before everything went dark.
Chapter Eight
Danni blasted out of the store like her miniskirt was on fire. A bulky, dark-haired man, automatic in hand, came tearing out of the store close behind her.
Driven by primal fear, Lars bolted into action. Adrenaline mainlined as he sprinted to rescue her.
Lars cut between the tour buses, keeping Danni in sight as she sprinted across the street. He yanked his gun out of his shoulder holster, holding the MR-15 plastered to his side not to escalate…yet.
Danni dodged past the speeding cars, widening the distance from the man who gave chase. Fortunately for Danni, her pursuer was overweight and out of shape. With his endurance flagging, the chubby man slowed to barely a jog and lowered his gun as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.
Speeding up to intercept Danni’s predator, Lars was forced to make a screeching stop. A cluster of senior citizens, returning to their tour buses, moved directly in front of him. The tour leader’s umbrella blocked Lars’s view of Danni. Shoving his way through the white-haired cluster wasn’t an option since a few were already barely upright.
Calling upon his extensive vocabulary of expletives, he pivoted and backtracked around the row of buses.
Trying to make up for lost time, he sprinted. His heart raced in fear until he spotted her, red-faced with her arms swinging, her long legs pumping, crisscrossing through the traffic as she headed toward the alley. He thanked his therapist for all the work they’d put into his rehab. His leg twinged but was holding up. And Lars knew how to ignore pain.
The roar of an engine raised every hair on
