Chapter 61

Iglance at Dakota, ducking back beneath the edge of the window, unsure what to do. I clearly don’t want to give myself up, but I don’t want to get anyone killed either. Dakota will have a plan for this. He always has a plan. Cold, calm, and collected Dakota.

“What now?” I ask, worried.

Dakota shrugs and pulls his revolver from his hip. “Now, I drop their numbers and make things a little more fair.”

He sits up on his knees and starts firing out the window without warning. The men outside scatter, looking for cover. At first the boss doesn’t move, laughing as his men scatter. Only when one of the men gets shot right in front of him does he duck behind a car door. I aim my own gun for him and fire, hoping to shoot him, but I miss. Frustrated, I instead aim for the others, trying to catch one of them before they can duck behind the suburbans.

“You know,” I rasp, ducking back down to load ammo. “The boss is younger than I expected.”

He can’t be any older than thirty-five. I’ve always assumed the leaders of a mafia are old silver foxes or something. I certainly didn’t expect any part of what he looks like. Except maybe the tattoos. Gang guys always have tattoos. But his are prettier than most, more like art than a brand.

Bullets start to pepper around us, and Dakota jerks me down. We all hunker as they fire at us, as the bullets go through the hardy wall outside and ping against the metal plates.

I can’t tell you how long that goes on. All I know is that Wiley and Levi are out there somewhere, and bullets are raining down around us. No one shows up to help yet, and so we do our best to hold the line. It could have been a few minutes of shooting or a few hours. I wouldn’t know the difference.

Their bullets ease as they start to reload, and I peek back up to start shooting again. The boss is standing behind the car door, but I can see his feet. I take aim, take a deep breath, and pull the trigger just like Ned told me. His foot kicks up, and I hear his laughter start to ring out.

“That was a good shot, Kate! Someone’s been teaching you well!” he calls.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” I snarl. “Why don’t you just stop this?”

“The only one who can stop this is you,” he calls back. “Say the word, come out unarmed, and this will all stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” Dakota warns as he hovers at the window. The moment anyone peeks out, he fires, taking a few out before they realize they need to be firing before they come out.

“Just go away,” I growl. “I don’t want to go with you.”

“I was promised you, Kate,” he laughs. “So you either come with me willingly or unwillingly. I don’t care.”

“I signed no contract with you,” I declare. “Therefore, it’s not binding.”

“This isn’t the court of law, Kate,” he laughs. “But that was a good try. It doesn’t matter who signed the contract. You belong to me.”

I scowl and fire at him again, trying to catch his feet before someone drops down a metal plate inside the door to protect him. “I don’t belong to you, asshole.”

He peeks his head out from behind the door, so I get a good look of his grin. “I appreciate that they taught you a few tricks while you’ve been hiding out here. That’s totally fine. I like them feisty.”

“Go fuck yourself!” I snarl, trying to hit his head. Dakota notices him and fires. The boss ducks away before the bullet can land, obviously knowing Dakota has the skill to hit him.

“Ah, but you see, it would be so much more fun to fuck you,” he calls.

I watch Dakota’s face darken with fury, but the sounds from the back of the house draw my attention more than that.

“What’s that?” I ask, panicked as someone shouts. “Dakota?”

“Did you think I was so stupid?” the boss asks. “That I would let your people get away?”

The back doors burst open, and more goons appear, each of them pushing our family inside. One of them holds Naomi by the back of her neck, forcing her in. She snarls, her eyes on fire, as he moves her roughly.

Dakota swears as they point their guns at us and stands. He holds his hands up and carefully sets his gun down. The others follow suit, but I keep my revolver clutched in my hand.

Fuck, this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.