Page 117 of Taking Denver

And as death kisses me, as it wraps its arms around me, I realize that Ranger loves me for so many reasons, but one reason rises above the rest.

I’m a survivor.

I didn’t go through everything I have to die like this.

I’m DenverfuckingLuxe.

And I don’t give up.

I drag my nails down Wilder’s face. Blood blooms in long, dark lines across his skin, and he swears and releases me. I fall and my hip connects with the floor. Wilder’s gun is in my face.

Bullets fly, but not at me. Wilder lurches forward, his eyes wide with surprise, someone’s hand gripping the back of his neck.

And a familiar voice rises from behind him.

One doused in darkness, violence, and promise, a rumble from hell itself.

“I warned you not to touch my fucking wife.”

Ranger chose this venue because we know it well. The ballroom has three doors—the entrance, the balcony, and access to the stock room that leads into an alley. His silence earlier hadn’t frightened me because I know he would rather die in this room than leave me. He had gotten out, called for backup, and now he’ll get revenge.

Ranger’s fist slams into Wilder’s face, and the Harland brother is thrown back, hitting the floor and skidding.

I try to breathe, and Ranger reaches out his hand to me. I take it, and he lifts me to my feet, cupping the back of my neck.

“Are you okay?”

I nod, my throat burning as I speak, “Are you?—”

The crack of bullets shatters the air. Ranger spins, his hand reaching behind him to pull my chest to his back, his other arm outstretched and firing. He steps backward, forcing meback, my face pressed into his jacket as people scream, glass smashes, and orders are shouted between Ranger’s men and Wilder’s.

I open my eyes, my gaze landing on Ethan’s body on the balcony.

“Is that it? Come on, pipsqueak. You want them back? Fight for them.”

“I’m Ethan, by the way.”

“You’re worth thinking about.”

“Just don’t forget about me, okay?”

I reach into Ranger’s holster and pull out his second gun. Flicking off the safety, I stand by his side, my arm outstretched.

Chaos reigns. There’s too much movement, too much noise. Time slows with my heart.

Thump thump. I shift my gaze to men I know and ones I don’t. The bang of bullets firing and the muffled sounds of silencers.Thump thump. I spot Cal, mouth open as he shouts a command, his back pressed to the right wall of the ballroom entrance.Thump thump. A man comes into view, a face I don’t know.

I fire. The kickback thunders through my arm, reverberating in my bones, a gold casing spitting from the weapon. My bullet hits, and the man steps back. I fire again, my second bullet joining the first, and blood spits across cream walls.

Ranger grips my waist, and he turns, pulling me into his chest, his arm outstretched over my shoulder as he fires behind me. His body is warmth and hardened muscle, and movement by the balcony doors shows more men arriving.

“Ranger,” I rasp, my throat still aching. “Police.”

“Everybody down, now!” an officer bellows. Weapons clatter to the ground, and shouts echo as some try to run and are taken out.

“Wait,” Ranger says to me, my body crushed against his. As I heave in panicked breaths, Ranger is calm, his arm still tight around my waist. “Wait.”

I don’t know what I’m waiting for, so I don’t move. I cling to him, and I wait.

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