by Sybil Bartel
The masked man shoved the gun harder against Sawyer’s head. “Hurry the fuck up!”
Sawyer released my chin and slowly raised one hand. “Calm down. I’m reaching for my keys.”
“You calm the fuck down, motherfucker. Hand over the keys! This is a carjack—”
Sawyer spun.
The arm that he already had raised slammed elbow first into the man’s masked face, connecting with his nose. Grabbing the hand holding the gun, Sawyer twisted the robber’s wrist so hard, a sickening pop sounded a split second before he screamed and dropped to his knees.
Still holding on to the man’s broken wrist, Sawyer grabbed the robber’s gun and jammed the barrel to his forehead. “Move and you die.” His eyes on the man on his knees, Sawyer nodded at me. “Get in the SUV, Genevieve.”
Oh my God, oh my God.
Shaking, freaking out, I reached for the handle just inside the door to hoist myself up and into the passenger seat, but a click sounded the second I stepped onto the running board.
“She moves another inch, she’s dead,” a new male voice ground out.
Fear coating my every breath, expecting another robber, I turned.
Except it wasn’t just one more.
It was three.
All standing behind Sawyer, all with guns. Two in ski masks aimed at Sawyer, and one with a hood pulled low over his face aimed at me.
My heart threatening to stop, I stepped off the running board. “Sawyer?” Oh dear God, we were dead.
Sawyer didn’t hesitate. “Get in the car, Genevieve,” he commanded, as if three men weren’t pointing guns at us.
“You not hear me, pendejo?” The man pointing the gun at me kept his gaze solidly on Sawyer. “You want your bitch to die?”
I shook. Hard.
Ignoring the man, Sawyer kept his gun wedged against the forehead of the man still on his knees. “It’s armored, Genevieve. Get in and lock the door.” He tossed the key fob into the front passenger seat.
“Are you fucking deaf, motherfucker?” the man yelled.
Panic like nothing I’d ever felt before rushed through me, but I didn’t move. I kept my eyes on Sawyer. “I’m not leaving you.” I couldn’t get in the SUV. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t faster than a bullet, and he wasn’t invincible.
“Genevieve,” Sawyer’s angry bark of my name barely had time to cut through the heat-stiff night air before everything went to hell.
The man on the ground grabbed the hem of my dress with one hand and yanked.
My bare knees slammed into the pavement, and Sawyer moved.
Faster than I could blink, he’d reached in his coat, came away with his own gun, and aimed dead center at the man in the hood’s chest. Sawyer’s movements were almost a blur as the momentum of my fall pitched me forward. My hands flew out, and the rough parking lot tore through the flesh of my palms and knees. A split second later, the man who’d yanked my dress wrapped an arm around my neck and wrenched me back up. Taller than me, his grip too strong, my back to his heaving chest, I had to go on tiptoe so I wasn’t strangled.
“Sawyer!” I cried out before the robber’s forearm crushed my throat too hard to speak.
Sawyer’s nostrils flared. “Let. Her. Go.”
The man strangling me didn’t even flinch as I clawed uselessly at his arm.
The hooded man spit words at Sawyer. “You’re outnumbered.”
“Try me,” Sawyer taunted. With both arms out, he had one gun aimed at the man holding me, and one aimed at the hooded man speaking.
Tears sprang, my vision started to tunnel, and I fought for air. Panicked, I kicked out as my arms reached over my head to his face.
“LET HER GO,” Sawyer bellowed.
My hand grasped a handful of sticky, wet material, and I didn’t think twice. I yanked.
Then everything happened at once.
My hand came away with the mask.
A gunshot rang out, piercing the night air with a deafening blast.
One of the masked men ran to the SUV’s driver door.
The arm left my neck.
My body pitched forward.
Sawyer yelled my name.
Choking for air, I turned to protect my face from smashing into the pavement.
The back of my head slammed into the ground.
Pain exploded.
The de-masked man lunged, his bloody face swimming into view as his hand latched around my throat. “I’m gonna kill you!”
Sawyer kicked the side of his head.
The bloody-faced man’s neck snapped sideways, and his hand left my throat as his body fell.
Sawyer dropped to his knees.
The hooded man yanked the back door of the Escalade open, dragging the bloody-faced man inside with him.
Wet coated the back of my neck, the SUV started up, and the last masked man jumped in the front passenger seat.
My head spun.
Shots rang out.
Everything went black.
ONE SECOND. ONE GODDAMN SECOND I took my eyes off the two assholes behind me to kick the prick with his hands on Genevieve, and I got fucking pistol whipped.
The blow momentarily stunned me as I fell to my knees, but the carjackers made a crucial mistake.
Same as their warning shot, they didn’t use deadly force.
They should’ve killed me.
Enraged, I risked unloading three rounds as the last asshole jumped into the Escalade, yanking the door shut. My shots ricocheted off the armored siding as the tires spun and they took off.
Holstering my 9mm and shoving the other gun into my back waistband, I whipped my cell out as I rolled and moved toward Genevieve.
Ty answered dryly on the first ring. “How’s your date?”
Fuck. Fuck. Blood pooled under her head. “SUV was carjacked. Client down.” I checked her pulse. “I need an ambulance and backup STAT.” I rattled off our location.
Ty’s tone sobered. “On my way. Four minutes out. She alive?”
“Affirmative.” He could get here faster than an ambulance, but I wasn’t moving her with a head injury. “Start tracking my SUV.” I wanted those assholes.
“Copy that. Calling for an ambulance now.” Ty hung up.
“Genevieve,” I clipped uselessly, but she was unconscious. “Goddamn it.”
“Oh my God, what happened?” Heels clicked across the parking lot as Talia appeared beside me. “Are you okay? I saw that man hit you before you shot at him.” Ignoring Genevieve, she put her hand on the back of my neck.
I jerked away from her. “Step back.”
“But, Sawyer, you’re injured.”
I lost it. Shooting to my feet, I got in her face. “I said, step back. That means step the fuck back. Don’t touch me, don’t pretend I ever meant more than an open wallet to you, and do not kid yourself that I give a single damn about you. Ignoring an unconscious woman on the ground in front of you tells me everything I ever needed to know about you. Leave.” Ignoring her shocked expression and her carbon-copy friends as they stood a few yards back, I squatted next to Genevieve and checked her pulse as another company SUV pulled up next to us.
Ty got out and sized up Talia in half a second flat before taking in Genevieve. “Ambulance is on its way. Perimeter?”
I nodded once as sirens sounded in the distance.
Ty stepped in front of Talia and barked an order. “Return to your vehicle or the diner.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Talia huffed. “I’m a witness. I saw what happened, and I know Sawyer.”
Ty glanced over his shoulder at me.
I shook my head. I didn’t need any witnesses. I saw the gang ink on the asshole’s wrist. I knew they were gangbangers.
Ty crowded Talia. “He says you don’t know him. Leave. Now.”
Talia didn’t move.
“Come on, Talia,” one of the carbon copies coaxed. “I have it on video anyway. We should go.”
“Hey,” Ty snapped at the carbon copy. “
Blondie. Come here.”
“Me?” she asked nervously.
“Yeah.” One hand on his piece, he made a come here gesture with his other hand. “Show me that video.”
“It’s… not that great.” She hesitated nervously. “It’s dark out, and we were in the diner when everything happened, so I don’t know if I actually got anything.”
“Evidence,” Ty stated, sounding like a cop. “I need to see that.”
She didn’t move.
“Right now,” Ty barked.
The carbon copy flinched, then walked toward Ty. Sweeping her finger across the screen, she held the phone up to show him.
Ty snatched it out of her hand.
“Hey, that’s mine! You can’t take my phone!”
“Relax, I’m not taking it.” Ty’s thumbs flew across the screen a few times, then he handed her phone back.
The carbon copy grabbed her phone and scrolled. “Oh my God, you deleted the video,” she accused.
The ambulance pulled into the lot.
“Get the fuck outta here. All of you,” Ty snapped at Talia and her groupies before gesturing to the ambulance.
The ambulance pulled up in front of us, forcing Talia and her entourage to get the hell out of the way.
The first paramedic approached, dropping next to Genevieve with his medical kit. “What happened?”
“We were carjacked, and she was shoved down. Her head hit the pavement.”
The paramedic looked up from Genevieve and did a quick scan of the parking lot before leveling me with a look. “Hey, man, the police need to clear the scene before we get here. Did you call them?”
I pulled out a business card. “I work for Luna and Associates, personal protection, and I’m former military, Special Forces. You’re in no danger. The assailants are long gone. Please, attend to her.”
Nodding, the paramedic pocketed my card and spoke to his partner. “Go get a full C-spine.”
The second paramedic grabbed a backboard, neck collar and two blocks.
The first paramedic grasped Genevieve on either side of her head. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
Genevieve didn’t respond.
Ty stepped up next to me and lowered his voice. “We got a problem.”
No fucking shit. My eyes on Genevieve, I tipped my chin.
The first paramedic held Genevieve’s head and checked her breathing while the second laid the backboard down next to her.
“One, two, three, roll,” the first paramedic commanded.
The second paramedic rolled Genevieve to her side and slid the backboard under her while the first held her head steady.
Ty checked his phone before shoving it back in his pocket. “Two problems if you count the trust-fund bitch.”
“Ma’am, can you open your eyes for me?” the first paramedic asked Genevieve as he checked out the wound on the back of her head. When she didn’t reply, he glanced at the second paramedic. “Let’s get a dressing under here.”
The second paramedic went back to the ambulance.
I didn’t ask Ty how he knew Talia lived off her trust fund. I was quickly realizing he had a sixth sense. “Out with it.”
“Luna’s on his way. Your SUV was traced to the middle of gang territory in Northwest Miami before the tracker went dead. Luna sent Preston to the last known location, but he won’t find shit. You know what it’s like over there.” Ty nodded toward Talia and her friends. “Second problem. I deleted the video of the carjacking, but the Barbie bitch is already filming again. I’m guessing you don’t want your face plastered all over social media.” Ty raised an eyebrow. “You want me to handle that bullshit?”
So far, I’d been lucky working for Luna and Associates. I’d kept my head down and my last name out of everything. Since I’d been out of the tabloids for over eight years, I’d been lucky enough to fly under the radar. Minus the color of my hair, I looked a hell of a lot different than I did when I left town at eighteen and enlisted in the Marines. But Talia seeing me tonight could change all that.
“Yeah, take care of it.” I didn’t need any media attention.
“Who’s the trust-fund bitch to you?” Ty asked.
“No one.” The two times I’d come home on leave during the first couple years of my service, Talia had been at the house. When I figured out my mother had invited her to be part of the welcome home parties, I’d stopped coming home.
Ty nodded, paused a beat, then he casually said, “Saw the video.”
Pissed that I’d let Genevieve get hurt, pissed that I didn’t take her home when she’d first asked, and pissed that I let those fucks get away, I didn’t comment. Guilt eating at me, I watched the paramedics put a neck brace on Genevieve, then put blocks on either side of her head.
“You had one down, there were only three of them,” Ty continued.
I knew where he was going.
His cell vibrated. “You could’ve taken them.” He pulled his phone out, glanced at it, then shoved it back in his pocket. “Double tap, two more shots, they all would’ve been down,” he said offhandedly, like killing four men was sport.
I leveled him with a look. “We’re not downrange.”
Unfazed, he lifted his chin. “Your point?”
The paramedics strapped Genevieve to the backboard, then lifted her onto a stretcher.
“You can’t shoot people. This isn’t a warzone,” I reminded him.
“Isn’t it?”
I leveled him with a look. “Lock that trigger finger down or you’re going to have a problem.”
“Four dead gangbangers is a problem?” he challenged.
When your last name was Savatier, one dead body was a problem, let alone four, but I wasn’t going to waste my breath explaining that. “I’m riding with her to the hospital. Follow me after you get rid of any more video that blonde took.”
Ty nodded. “Copy.”
As the paramedics loaded Genevieve into the ambulance, two police cruisers with their lights on pulled into the parking lot.
Ty smirked. “Here comes some bullshit.”
Goddamn it. “I don’t have time to deal with them.” And Ty was the last person you wanted talking to the cops. “Luna on his way?”
Ty glanced across the lot. “Is he ever not on his way?”
I followed Ty’s gaze and saw Luna approaching on foot. “I didn’t see him pull in.”
Ty eyed Talia and her friends with a sneer, then he scanned the length of the video chick’s body. “I told him to park across the street to avoid the shitshow.”
I couldn’t tell if he wanted to shoot Talia’s friend or fuck her. “Catch Luna up to speed, let him talk to the cops, then meet me at the hospital.” I grabbed the carjacker’s gun from my back waistband. “Take this and have Luna run the serial number. It belonged to one of the assholes.”
Ty took the gun. “He won’t find shit.”
No kidding. “Worth a shot just in case.”
Ty chuckled. “Pun intended?”
I scowled.
He smirked and nodded toward the ambulance. “You really took Pollyanna on a date?”
“Fuck you.”
A sinister smile hit his face. “Rumor has it you don’t swear. The guys full of shit or am I just special?”
I ignored his bullshit. “Did you take care of her car?”
Ty cocked an eyebrow. “Is that gonna determine whether or not I’m your special bitch?”
“No.” It was going to determine whether or not I fucking hit him.
Ty smirked. “Car’s handled.” He pulled her keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. “Battery’s replaced, and it’s parked at her place. You’re fucking welcome.”
Taking the keys, I didn’t thank him. Instead, I stopped one of the paramedics from closing the door. “I’m riding with her.”
“You can meet us at the hospital,” the paramedic deferred.
I played hardball. “You have an unconscious woman with no ID. I’m not letting her ride without m
e.”
The paramedic nodded, and I got in the ambulance.
Taking a seat, I looked down at Genevieve’s pale complexion and still body as the paramedic put an oxygen mask over her face.
I felt like a selfish prick.
BREATH HITCHED IN MY LUNGS, and I sucked in air in a panic. Choking, I tried to sit up, but my head exploded into a nauseous sea of pain.
“Easy.” A hand landed on my arm. “You’re okay.”
Okay? I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t breathe, my neck felt crushed, air wouldn’t fill my lungs, and my head was pounding. I wanted to sit up, but I couldn’t move. Something covering my face, I couldn’t move. I sucked in a panicked breath, then another.
“Ma’am—”
“Genevieve, open your eyes,” a vaguely familiar male voice commanded.
How did I know that voice?
I blinked, but bright lights blinded me.
A hand grasped mine. “Look at me, Genevieve. Right now.”
I opened my eyes.
Stark blue eyes, almost white-blond hair, sharp angular face, five o’clock shadow…
Sawyer Savatier.
“What….” I tried to shake my head, but I couldn’t move.
“You’re okay.” He squeezed my hand. “You’re in an ambulance.”
What? I panicked. “I-I can’t move!”
His face swimming above me, his expression stern, he put a hand on my chest. “Breathe. You’re okay. You can move. You’re just strapped in. You hit your head. Take a breath.”
I didn’t take a breath. I took five. Short and panicked, I sucked in air like an addict.
“Slower,” he demanded.
Oh God. “Ambulance?”
He nodded once, succinct and efficient, like he practiced the gesture in the mirror to convey maximum acknowledgment with minimum movement. “You hit your head.”
“Did I fall?” Again?
He stared at me a moment. “No.”
I waited.
“You were pushed,” he admitted.
“Why was I pushed?” Did he push me? My head was killing me. I tried to lift my arm and couldn’t. “I can’t move.”
He glanced at the paramedic.
“Grade two concussion,” the paramedic explained, as if that answered anything. “You’re in an ambulance, strapped to a backboard on your way to the hospital. You’ll be able to move once we get you off the stretcher.”