Page 56 of Lethal Lover

But it’s not. And he escapes after shooting at me a couple of more times. I dodge the bullets around another concrete column. My screams shatter the still air. I hurl my gun against the wall with a deafening roar that erupts out of my chest with such force it makes me hoarse.

My breaths are ragged, shuddering my chest. I turn, a shock of devastation quaking my insides. Quinn’s leg hangs over one of the pipes in the shadows. I run back and fall to my knees next to him. I run my fingers down over his side, the tips warm and sticky. I pull his t-shirt up to examine the wound when he makes a faint mumbling sound.

“Quinn,” I rasp, cupping his chin with my other hand. “Thank God.”

His eyes flutter, unfocused. “V-val…” he croaks. “Y-you did good, babe.”

“Don’t talk. Save your energy. I need to get you to a doctor.” Tears sting my eyes, an icy hand grasping my heart.

“M-make sure you f-find those fuckers.” He gurgles a little bit.

Alarm grips me by the throat. “Stop talking like that. You’re going to be right next to me when I do.”

“N-no,” he mumbles. “Y-you have to g-get them. I need to sleep…”

His eyes float closed. I smack his cheeks, my stomach roiling.

“Quinn,” I scream. “Wake up, please wake up.”

His eyes pop open, a devious grin stretching across his face.

I gasp and sit back on my heels. “You son of a bitch.”

He chuckles. “See, that’s how I know you like me.”

“I fucking hate you!”

“Hate that you like me.” He brings a hand to the side of his head. “I must’ve gotten knocked out when my head hit this fucking pipe. Last thing I remember is that bastard hanging over me with a gun to my head.”

I drop to a seated position on the ground, my shoulders slumped. Then I give him a swat on his good side. “Don’t ever do that again, asshole.”

“Then don’t try to lie and think you’ll get away with it.” His blue eyes glitter with mischief and damn my belly for flipping like an acrobat under his heated stare.

“If I’d have known you were going to give me a heart attack like that, I might’ve let that guy blow your head off,” I growl.

“I doubt that.” He slowly raises himself off the ground and checks out his gunshot wound. “Doesn’t look horrible. I’ve had worse.”

My eyes trace over the tattoo ink snaking the length of his lean, muscular torso. Yes, he has plenty of battle scars in various places. I saw them up close and personal on our wedding night. But you never know when you’ll be clipped with the one that’ll do serious damage… or worse, kill you.

Quinn slowly turns his head toward the guys lying a few feet away. He lets out a low whistle. “Damn, you blew him away.”

“You got one, too.” I scrub a hand down my face. “But the last one got away. There was an unlocked door. He only made it inside because I ran out of bullets.”

I stagger to my feet and walk over to the guy I plugged. I fish around in his jacket and pants. My fingers finally find a cell phone. I pull it out, hold it up to his face, and let out a groan.

His face can’t be recognized because of my handiwork with the gun. And I don’t have a damn passcode to bypass it.

Maybe there’s a wallet with ID in it. If we can find a name, Alek can get his data guys to do some kind of tracking, cross-referencing, something, anything to figure out who orchestrated this attack.

I fumble in his pants pockets, then tug at his jacket when a choked gasp rocks my chest. I tentatively move the shirt opening to get a better view.

A four-pronged pitchfork pointed straight down. Honor to the Devil, staking his claim in Hell.

My teeth chatter. I’ve seen that image in my nightmares so many times over the past years, but this is the first time I’ve seen it branded on anyone’s skin since that night at the arena.

“You find something?” Quinn slowly drags himself over to me.

“The tattoo.” I point to it. “I saw that same tattoo on one of the guys who attacked me that night in Miami.”

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