Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I lunge forward and raise my arm, bringing the butt of the gun down on his forearm with a sickening crack. Nobody goes after my woman.
“Fucking nobody,” I growl as he crumples to the ground.
This fucker’s got speed and scrambles to his feet the second he hits the floor. He stumbles back a step, and even though his face is covered by a mask, I can tell he’s in pain. Still, he swings at me.
But I dodge it and return with a swift one-two punch to his gut. He doubles over, and I slam the butt of my gun into his back. “Stay down, asshole!”
Despite the pain, he struggles back to his feet, grunting the whole time. He takes another swing, misses, then shoves me hard.
I stumble back against the armoire and watch the intruder. His gaze darts to me and then over to where Aria is—thankfully—still hiding.
He tries to bolt, and I fire off two shots. One misses, but the other hits his shoulder, taking him down.
With him on the ground, it’s time to unmask our midnight visitor. My gun is firm against his forehead as I yank off his mask. Even in the scant moonlight, the face is unmistakable. It’s Birmingham, the corrupt ATF agent Morgan was investigating.
He knows something.
Before I can react, he sucker punches me, sending me falling to my back with a grunt. It gives him enough time to get away, and as soon as I recover, I squeeze off two shots. I’m pretty damn sure one hits his shoulder.
I hear him hiss, “Fuck!” under his breath.
Birmingham didn’t break into the Morgan mansion in the middle of the night for no reason. If he was after intel, he would have started downstairs, searching for Morgan’s office or secret hiding place, but he didn’t.
He came for Aria.
“Lucky?” Aria's voice wobbles.
“I’m here, Princess. I’m fine.” I lie. I’m not fucking fine at all. “Pack a bag.”
“Where are we going?” She's trembling, and I don’t blame her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. She’s got a million questions and I have zero answers right now.”
“Someplace safe, Aria. That’s as far as my plans have gotten so far.”
I know exactly where we’re going, but I’m in no fucking mood for an argument.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Aria
Someone tried to kill me tonight. Lucky hasn’t confirmed it and the truth is that he’s been pretty quiet since barking at me to pack a bag, but I’m not naïve, and I don’t need him to say the words out loud.
“All set?” Lucky stops a few inches in front of me, his dark brows tugging into a scowl.
I nod even though the last thing I want to do is leave the safety of my own home. Yeah, I know. Right now, it doesn’t feel all that safe, but still, it’s all the home I have. “I think so. Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yes.” His gaze lingers on my face and down to my lips, but his expression is totally unreadable. “The one place I know I can keep you safe. The clubhouse.”
My shoulders sink. First, a crazy person breaks into my home and clearly takes two shots at me, and now I’m going back to a building full of people who hate me. “Just like high school all over again,” I mutter to myself. Only back in those days, they also feared me, so no one fucked with me.
Lucky places his hands on my shoulders, and I hate that all I feel is instant relief, but I do so I go with it. His hazel eyes bore into mine. “You’ll be fine, Aria, I promise. You’re not in high school anymore. You’re a grown woman. Act like one. I’ll protect you.”
“Thank you.” Even when I was at my bitchiest, which for me is pretty fucking bitchy, Lucky has protected me, even when he probably wanted to wring my neck. He even saved me from Chase, which I’m pretty sure falls far outside his job description. “I guess I’m just nervous. Scared.”
He laughs and presses a kiss against my forehead. “I didn’t think you would admit that. Come on.”
He scoops up Coco and stuffs him into his backpack to keep him from running off. He pops his head out to lick Lucky’s chin.
Lucky pulls away and growls, “None of that,” but I think, secretly, he likes it.
Coco lets out a cheerful bark, and I smile.
“You’ll be fine, Aria. I’ll be there with you.” Lucky smiles and guides me outside to the bike, places a helmet on my head and fastens the chin strap.
I nod, even though he’s no longer watching. My heart races, and it has nothing to do with my hands around his waist. It’s not romantic, not at all. How could it be when Coco balances between us like a four-legged cock-blocker? No, my nerves are all about the fact that someone just tried to kill me.