Page 125 of The Heart We Guard
While I don’t care what the rest of my men are doing, I notice three bikes continue on the road, to block the exit of the Rebels’ truck. Smart move, in the event Gauge and his friend try to escape.
“Not so fucking full of yourself when you’re up against me, huh?” I yell as Gauge runs for his vehicle.
Atom runs to the upturned truck.
For as long as I live, I won’t forget the bellowing echo of the way he yells Ember’s name.
When Gauge turns and finds the courage to aim his weapon at me, Grudge puts his arm out, nudges me behind him. “He’s yours, Prez. But let me get you there.”
I don’t need saving.
I don’t need cover.
I’m willing to lead the men.
But the gesture…it catches in my throat. My vice president is still willing to throw down his own life for mine, like he did once before.
Gauge fires, but the bullet flies wide. As does the second.
Bullets fly back in his direction.
I glance over at the truck. I hear sobs.
I look back to Gauge.
Vengeance versus comfort.
My woman and kids, or the man who dared to hurt them.
Fuck.
“Hold him for me,” I say, making the decision that family trumps everything, and run to the truck. I wipe the rain from my face. “I want to kill him but need to get to my girls.”
Grudge nods as I run to the truck.
“You got Em?” I yell to Atom when he puts his phone to his ear.
He nods and then ducks back down to the window. “Yeah. Out by Pine Hollow. Yeah. Fuck, Em. Come on, babe. “Yeah…yeah…she’s pregnant. The truck’s on its roof. Should I cut her down, will I hurt her?”
Tears sting my throat as I share his agony in my own way.
I fall to my knees in the broken glass by the window, and realize Greer crawled into the back of the truck.
“Nolan,” she says on a sob. Her pretty cheeks wear streaks of mascara.
“It’s okay, love. I’m here. Give me your hands. I’m gonna drag you out.” It would be safer to keep her in the truck, but with the gunfire and the pungent stench of gasoline, the truck could go up in flames any minute.
“I was stuck upside down. The seatbelt. The baby. Oh, God.”
There’s blood on her hands, and splinters of glass sparkle in her hair, but she’s alive.
She’s fucking alive.
In spite of the rain and the glass and the gunfire. She’s still here.
I look over to my daughter, who holds the other piece of my heart, and my enforcer, who is telling her how much he loves her and their baby.
And I realize that we won’t know about the health of either baby until we get them to a hospital.
