Chapter Eighteen

The sound of the blast tore through Mia, the noise and compression slamming into her ears. So much pain. It ripped through her, and for a horrifying moment, she thought she’d been shot.

She hadn’t been.

From the corner of her eye, Mia saw the barrel of the gun, and it wasn’t aimed at her. But at Angel.

Oh, God.

He’d fired at Angel. Except he hadn’t. She had to fight through the panic and fear to realize the bullet hadn’t gone into Angel either.

But rather Birdie.

Birdie made a sharp sound of pain and clutched her side. She shook her head, clearly not understanding what was going on. Welcome to the club. Mia didn’t know what was going on either.

Angel didn’t have that problem. He was in fierce warrior mode, and he took aim at the man who’d grabbed her. The man who’d shot Birdie.

“Put down your gun,” Angel demanded.

The guy laughed, and he turned his own gun away from Birdie and toward Angel.

“No,” Mia shouted, and without thinking, she rammed her elbow into the guy’s gut. In the same motion, she dropped down to give Angel a clear shot.

And he took it.

Angel fired, a double tap of the trigger, that created another wave of that deafening noise. The guy still had hold of her shoulder and had been obviously trying to pull her back in front of him.

He failed.

Angel didn’t.

And the man’s grip melted off her as he fell the ground behind her.

Angel moved so fast that he was practically a blur, and when he reached her, he hooked his arm around her, pulling her behind him. He didn’t haul her into his arms, but he gave her a quick look.

A lot of things passed between them. The relief. The shock. The worry they’d had for each other’s safety. Soon, she needed to tell him…so many things. But those things would have to wait.

As he’d done to Birdie, Angel kicked aside the gun the man had been holding, and stooping down, he yanked up the ski mask. And then he cursed.

“Who is he?” Presley asked.

“I have no idea. Never seen him before.” Angel took out his phone and clicked a picture. “I’ll send it to Ruby to see if she can ID him. I’m guessing he’s a hired gun,” he added in a mutter, and then he went to Birdie. “Who is he? Why did he try to kill you?”

Birdie shook her head and continued to sob. She continued to bleed, too, and Mia knelt beside her to try to apply some pressure to slow it down.

“You’ll get medical help soon,” Presley let them know. “And as you can hear, the cops are nearby.”

They were. The wail of the sirens was echoing through the garage. She couldn’t see the blue lights yet, but Mia figured they wouldn’t have to wait long before the cops were on this level. Then, they could also get Birdie the medical attention that would hopefully keep her alive.

Mia despised what the woman had tried to do, but a dead woman couldn’t talk. And they needed answers. She was betting Birdie knew everything they needed to unravel about what had happened.

“Get down!” Presley shouted.

That was the only warning Mia got before Angel took hold of her and dragged her to the ground. She didn’t have time to ask why he’d done that because Mia soon knew.

She heard a gunshot.

Another one, and it had come right at them and slammed into the side of the van. She didn’t see the person who’d fired, but obviously Presley had.

“He’s at your one o’clock,” Presley shouted, and she saw him dive for cover at the front of the van. “Active shooter,” he said a second later, and she realized he’d probably called 911 to let the cops know so they wouldn’t be driving straight into gunfire.

Mia’s heart was pounding hard now, and her breath was gusting out. Way too fast. She tried to tamp that down so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. That wouldn’t help Angel and could end up getting them killed.

Mia managed to look up, to try to get her bearings. Angel and she were toward the front of the van, too far from the still-open side door. And she couldn’t see the shooter because of a large truck blocking her line of sight. However, she could hear him moving around.

No doubt moving to get into position to try to deliver another shot.

Birdie kept on sobbing, and she clutched her hands to her injured side. “Don’t kill me,” she muttered. “Please don’t kill me.”

Did Birdie know who was doing this? Maybe. Maybe these two were men she’d hired, but then why had one of them turned against Birdie and shot her? Or had that been a mistake?

Had he been aiming for Angel instead?

Mia didn’t have time to even consider that question because another shot came at them. This one smacking into the side door. The next shot came even closer to them, and Mia could have sworn she felt the heat coming off the bullet.

Cursing, Angel shoved her up underneath the van, following her so that his body was nearest the shooter. And the shooter must have decided this was his best chance because that’s where the next bullet came. It smacked into the metal just above Angel’s head.

“Enough of this shit,” Angel growled.

He rolled to his stomach, automatically bringing up his gun and firing. The shot screamed out, nonstop, tearing into the van and arrowing into the concrete floor. Angel fired two more shots.

And then everything stopped.

It just stopped.

Mia had no choice but to release the breath she’d been holding because her lungs felt ready to explode. And the fear came. A horrible flood of fear that Angel had been shot.

She turned to him. No blood. Not on him anyway.

But she couldn’t say the same for Presley. Clutching his shoulder, Presley staggered forward and dropped to the ground in front of them.

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