Lotto Trouble: A Reverse Harem Romantic Comedy (Lotto Love Book 2)

by Ann Denton

  Ominous thunder cracks in the distance.

  Great. Really funny, universe. Awesome. It was a dark and stormy night …

  I duck right behind a fat tree and lob that fucking Molotov cocktail as hard as I can. It doesn’t hit a tree. It smacks harmlessly on the ground and the glass doesn’t break. Because—of course not. I want to laugh and cry in the same moment.

  Gunmetal just leaps over the vase and keeps running.

  Dammit. I don’t have time for the second cocktail. I drop that vase. I reach for my pocket and pull out the tube of prank itching powder Heather had wanted. “Just for shits and giggles,” she’d said. “Like, if one of them is really annoying.”

  I decide shooting at me classifies as annoying as I uncap the powder and edge around the side of the tree so I can get an eye on Gunmetal George.

  I don’t see him.

  Fuck!

  I turn back to look the other way only to find myself facing the barrel of a gun. My eyes widen and I pee a tiny bit.

  Gunmetal gives a scary grin and licks his lips, in total creeper fashion.

  My heart pops like a balloon. I shriek, throwing my arms up and tossing itching powder all over the both of us.

  Gunmetal sneezes, but doesn’t seem to react otherwise. His hands stay firmly planted on the gun as I take half a step back.

  “Do not move—” he says. But then he starts sliding his teeth over his tongue. And his hand reaches up to scratch the side of his face.

  I’d be smug, only I’m feeling it too. It feels like ants are crawling in my hair. I reach up and dig in with my nails. It itches so much it burns. I have the urge to scratch until I bleed—just to stop the itch.

  I peel off Danny’s shirt. God, that feels better! I don’t even care that I’m topless in front of the enemy. But my hair. My hair. I can’t stop scratching.

  Gunmetal rips his shirt off. He’s more ripped than shredded newspaper. Fuck. He reaches for me, even as he scratches a bloody streak into his own cheek with the butt of his gun.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a metal pie plate comes zooming through the air and hits Gunmetal in the face. It slices his good cheek open. Now he really looks like a horror movie villain.

  I’m dazed for a second. Out of it. Since when are pie plates sharp?

  Andrew runs up beside me with a spray bottle. “Katie, run!” He spritzes something at Gunmetal. And the scent of bleach fills the air.

  Gunmetal howls in pain.

  I howl in itchiness as I run away, still scratching.

  I glance back. Gunmetal backhands Andrew, who flies through the air, but just keeps spraying. It looks like he might hit one of the twins in the eyes, because one of them sinks to the ground, clutching at his face.

  Yeah! Andrew’s a badass!

  As soon as I think that, I realize I can’t see Suit. Shit.

  I see a cleaver zoom through the air past me and bite into the tree next to Suit as he tries to grab me.

  “Katie!” Alec yells.

  I run toward the sound of Alec’s voice, zig-zagging through the trees as a couple shots zing back and forth around me. I can’t tell if it’s the Russians shooting at us or us shooting at them, but nobody screams, so I take it as a good sign.

  A hand wraps around me and I turn, ready to fall sobbing into Alec’s arms in relief.

  But it’s not Alec who’s grabbed me. It’s Peter Brown.

  His eyes glint coldly as he yanks me backward and puts Kenneth’s old gun to my neck. He closes one hand over my arms and frog marches me back to R&R.

  I should feel fear. I should feel disappointment. I should feel idiotic for getting caught and frog-marched topless through the forest. Those are all my normal Katie feelings for a humiliating situation like this. An almost-getaway. But maybe I’ve reached my limit. Maybe I’m all feeled out.

  I just stare dully at the twins as Peter says, “You want her? You want them? You want to know everything they’ve got planned?”

  The right twin, the one with the burnt arm, says, “What do you want?”

  “I want fifty grand in unmarked bills.”

  Fuck. He’s gonna give away the guys. Alec will get hurt. Our whole plan rests on him staying a stealth sniper.

  I wrench myself away from Peter and shove my hands to cover his mouth. We wrestle and I bend his wrist backward. Guess I should have gone for the gun. Because it goes off.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Heather & Katie

  Heather

  I blink. I think I must be imagining things. I see a helicopter land on the runway, blades whirring. I see gunmen jump out. But we already have gunmen we’re fighting …

  Katie

  The bullet hits Peter in the ass. How he manages to shoot his own ass, I have no fucking clue. But my fingers did not pull the damn trigger. I do mentally give the universe a quick thumbs up before darting into the trees again, scratching frantically at my head as I run … smack! Right back into Gunmetal George’s massive pecs …

  Heather

  These gunmen are different. I push up onto my elbow and try to focus as I see them. Everything is definitely blurry, so I blink hard. These gunmen are backlit by a spotlight on their chopper, and rain starts to fall, distorting their features, but their edges are different, somehow. It takes me a minute to realize that they aren’t wearing suits like the Russians. They’re wearing leather jackets…

  Katie

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I moan as Gunmetal scoops me up over his shoulder. It’s massive, almost as wide as Jeremy’s old motorcycle seat. Ugh.

  To my surprise, Gunmetal turns to Suit and says, “We go back to this way,” and jerks his head toward the escape room. He scratches his chest as he explains, “They will not have time to leave the bombs there. We out wait the storm.”

  Suit nods.

  And then the Russians leave behind a sobbing Peter Brown and head exactly in the direction we wanted them to go.

  Heather

  I stand on wobbly feet and wave my arms. One guy draws his gun, but doesn’t point it. The other guys simply eye me, until one takes the initiative and steps forward. He’s got black hair, a large hooked nose, and a thick, solid body under his black biker outfit.

  “Yo, you in trouble or somethin’?”

  He sounds like he’s from the East Coast.

  I swallow and it’s a minute before I can find my voice. “Yeah. I am. Who are you?”

  When he says he’s a warlock, I crack up.

  I’m definitely hallucinating. These guys can’t be real. I musta’ hit my head harder than I thought …

  Katie

  Yes, just a little farther. I squirm on Gunmetal’s shoulders. My purpose is two-fold. Get more damned rain on my hair because it’s washing away the itch powder, and get access to my damned pocket.

  “Stop this,” Gunmetal growls at me.

  “Sorry, I gotta pee,” I lie.

  “I have heard that trick before.”

  “You have?” I ask, as I slide my hand into my now available pocket. Inside, I finger the remote control for the spotlights I hung in the trees. Damn. I hope Alec and the guys are ready. Because, ready or not …

  Heather

  The man in the leather jacket grabs my arm. “You okay?” he asks.

  I say the first damn thing that pops into my head. “There are men trying to kill me—”

  Great, Heather! That makes you seem batshit! I scold myself as Hook Nose backs away. “I’ll blow you if you help me!” I promise desperately.

  That offer does not help the cause. Fuck it.

  I’m about to pull out my flare gun and hold him hostage when spotlights flood the area. Immediately, all the dudes in leather pull out guns. They start firing at the shadows that encircle us.

  Katie

  Gunmetal drops me on the ground when the lights pop up, illuminating a bunch of scary, sex doll silhouettes. He takes a knee and opens fire on a group of them to his left. One of them lets out a loud squeak. One pops and I see h
im jerk his head, like he’s wondering what the hell just happened. Luckily, the rain decides to bitch slap him—come on, Universe!—and pour down in sheets just then, so Gunmetal doesn’t question, just keeps emptying his magazine and replacing it with a new one from his pants pocket.

  I’m about to try to creep away when I see movement to our right. What the hell? There’s another helicopter? And more gunmen! Holy shit! Do the Russians have backup? My plan is fucked!

  Gunmetal turns.

  Suddenly, everyone’s firing at everyone. I drop to the ground and army crawl the fuck away, ignoring how much that hurts my bare breasts. What the hell is going on?

  Heather

  I am about to book it when Hook grabs me around the waist and bellows across the landing strip, “You want this chick? Drop your weapons or I’ll kill her myself!”

  Oh shit. This did not go as planned. He’s supposed to be my hero, not another spermbag douche.

  Something moves in the distance and then a person flies, literally flies, right at us. All the warlocks open fire.

  The figure falls and Hook drags me over to look at it.

  “Congratulations. They made you waste your ammo killing a sex doll.” Idiot.

  I realize I’m gonna have to save myself.

  I try to kick him in the balls, but I miss. Maybe because he doesn’t have any. Dumbass coward who’s using a woman as a shield. I reach for my flare gun—

  Katie

  OMFG! Those other guys have Heather! For a second, I wonder if I’ve been shot. No. It’s just shock. Just utter disbelief zinging through me and ripping my insides apart.

  I shove aside my wet, tangled hair and try to get a better look at the dickwads who grabbed Heather—the grease-lightning gang or whoever the hell they are—dressed all in black. They don’t sound Russian. But, maybe they’re a rival gang? Maybe that’s why they’re shooting at each other?

  Well, fuck them! I reach for my trusty remote again and press a button; this time, all my colored lights go to work.

  Come on, Alec. Be here—

  Heather

  I’m kicking and screaming and bucking as Hook Nose tries to drag me toward his chopper. I get my hand in place on the trigger of the flare gun.

  But blue and red flashing lights start up all around us. I freeze. So does Hook Nose.

  “Put your hands in the air! This is the police! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!” a deep voice growls through a bullhorn.

  Hook Nose and his crew look over at the Russians. There’s a middle-school level stare down, until I interrupt it, screaming, “You all used up all your damn bullets already, so unless you’re ready for suicide by cop—drop them!”

  Like most men in the face of my brutal honesty—Katie calls it my Hurricane voice—they fucking listen.

  Damn straight they do.

  I drop my flare gun, too. And step away from Hook, my hands raised. I do not want a fucking cop to shoot through me to get to him.

  Only … we stand there waiting, hands up.

  And no one comes out.

  What the hell?

  Katie

  Oh, God. I never thought this plan would work! Honestly, I never thought we’d get that far. Shit! The rainfall has let up, but it feels deafening in the expectant silence. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears as I swallow hard. Next are supposed to be the confetti cannons. But they don’t go off. They’re supposed to be a loud noise, a distraction so we can run out and swipe up the weapons and Alec can snipe people. But there are too many people now. And no sound. The rain … I think the rain might have melted the confetti into paper pulp. Shit! Shit! Shit!

  Heather

  Hook Nose screams, “It’s a fake!” And all the assholes dive to the ground for their weapons.

  I dive for mine.

  Katie

  Thunder crashes and the wind blows so hard it goes sideways, slapping me in the face. Okay, Universe, I get it. I done fucked up. Gonna die now. Thanks.

  But then that whirring turns into a different noise. A sound I’ve heard before. A sound that I once thought was a tsunami.

  I look up at the sky and a third helicopter hovers over the runway.

  Are you joking? Who the fuck—

  A machine gun fires a line of bullets down onto the runway, so that dirt and rocks fly up in a little row.

  A new voice speaks over a loudspeaker. “Drop those fucking weapons or we will shoot you down one by one. By order of the government of the United fucking States.”

  Heather

  My heart gives a fist pump. Hell yeah! ‘Merica! I have no idea who these new fuckwits are, but thank fucking God!

  Ropes drop out of the helicopter and seven badass looking men in black ops gear slide down. Damn. That’s the hottest sight I’ve ever seen.

  Katie

  Holy shit! Is this really happening? This is really happening! I can’t help the nervous laughter that erupts when guys with night vision goggles and helmets and all that crap point their guns at the Russians and those other dudes alike. They collect all the weapons and zip-tie all these jerkwads’ hands. They pat me down, but since all I’ve got is a light switch, they don’t zip tie me.

  Instead, when they see me start to shake—I think shock and cold are setting in—one of them gently leads me over to Heather. He doesn’t even comment on the fact that I’m topless and holding my arms over my chest.

  “Do you two know each other?” he asks.

  “I thought you were dead!” I screech, throwing myself into her arms.

  Heather

  I hug Katie so hard that I think I might break her ribs. And then, like a fucking baby, I start to cry.

  Katie

  We get our sobfest on while the army dudes move their prisoners into the airplane hangar. When they emerge, their leader signals for the helicopter to land.

  “Um … wait,” a familiar growly voice calls through the trees. “Can the rest of us come out?”

  The helicopter searchlight swings to the left, where Alec, Andrew, BJ, and Jeremiah stand at the edge of the trees, arms in the air. Their weapons, as lethal or homemade or ridiculous as they were, are gone. This means, of course, that Jeremiah is buck naked and his johnson is whipping in the wind.

  I turn to Heather and shake my head. “When we get off this island, I never want to see another one of your harem member’s dicks again.”

  Heather laughs. “Deal. I’m done with harems anyway.”

  And she squeezes my hand, lets go, and runs toward the guys, who’ve all been through pat-down. She launches herself into the air and right into Andrew’s arms.

  My hand goes to my lips and another set of tears fill my eyes as I watch them. “I picked him,” I whisper to myself.

  “Yeah, you’re pretty good at picking guys,” a tenor voice quips behind me.

  I whirl around, gasping.

  There, drenched in rain, wearing borrowed clothes and a helmet that cocks awkwardly to his left side, is Danny.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Katie

  I feel like I can breathe a full breath again. Like maybe, I’ve accidentally been holding my breath the whole time he’s been gone—in that nervous way people do when they’re just waiting for something to be over—they get tense and hold their breath. That’s what I did while Danny was gone, and I didn’t even realize it until now. Until seeing him brings up all the realities of having to live without him, having to hold it together and fight through it all without the person who laughs with me at my side.

  I don’t so much ugly cry as ugly wail as I leap at Danny. Unlike Heather, I don’t stick the landing. There’s an awkward jumble of arms and elbows because I am shaking too much to be in full control of my body right now. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. I let Danny worry about the not-letting-me-fall part as I kiss him.

  My kisses are probably full of tears and maybe even snot. But you know what? He can deal with it. And scold me for it. And laugh at me for it. Because he’s here.

/>   Danny kisses me back, just as full of tears as I am, until something makes him laugh. I have no clue what. But his laugh makes me laugh and pretty soon we’re laughing in the rain together.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see Alec, waiting patiently, Andrew and Heather at his side.

  I untangle myself from Danny, hop down and give Alec a huge hug and then a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  He nods gruffly and quickly strips off his shirt, covering my chest from view.

  Whoops. I’d gotten so cold and numb, I’d kind of forgotten about that.

  Alec says, “I’m gonna take these two down to check on Kenneth—”

  “We can come, too!” I volunteer.

  “Nah. Grab some fresh clothes. And don’t you have some umbrellas in boxes somewhere?”

  I nod.

  “Get those. These guys say they won’t take off again until the storm lets up. They’re gonna take injured first, then the Russians, then Warlocks.”

  “Wait,” Heather stops him. “Those guys are really wizards?”

  Danny interjects, “Warlocks—that’s their gang name. They’re that gang Peter was trying to hide from. From what they said, he owes them closer to a mil. Ran some kinda gambling scam. They were more than happy to come down here to collect him—”

  “Wait, you called those crazies?” Heather cocks her hip.

  Danny settles his arm over my shoulders. “Oh, yeah. I called them.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I got kinda desperate trying to find someone to come out here. There are no local police, since this is a private island. No other nearby countries wanted to help, the military said a big hell no—”