Page 14 of Tell Me

Luckily, I hadn’t.

I grabbed the Sig out of the holster strapped to my side, checked to make sure it was loaded—it was—and stood up. Lucien must have seen me do it because he stood as well, and moments later we were back-to-back against the pillar, our shoulders moving in time with our breaths and the same electricity running through us.

“You ready for this?” he asked quietly.

“Probably more ready than you are,” I answered, pausing only a moment to try to build a plan for what we were about to do. Lucien had already been shot, I’d seen the blood, but it didn’t seem to be affecting his ability to function, so I wasn’t going to worry about him. He’d been in shootouts before, I was sure.

As had I.

I stepped around the pillar, dropped to my knee, and started shooting. It wasn’t hard to tell who I was aiming for. The Boudreaux men always wore something to mark them out from everyone else: a burgundy sash across their necks or in their pockets. Burgundy tie. Handkerchief hanging from their collar. It was both a danger and a blessing, because it made them easy to spot when you were fighting them—and easy to see when they were the ones chasing you.

I’d been on only one end of that particular agreement before, when Camille or Beau and I had happened into the wrong neighborhood and found ourselves on the wrong side of a fight. Once I’d been engaged to Lucien, I’d thought I might find my way into a few fights where the Boudreaux were actually my allies. I’d even thought I might be defending them at some point, fighting next to my husband for the future we’d decided on.

I hadn’t, however, thought I’d be fighting my father’s men to save my own life.

But that was exactly what this was. And I didn’t realize it until my first bullet flew through a blue scarf to tear out a Landry soldier’s throat.

I recoiled like I’d just shot someone from my own family—which I had—and shuffled backward. Shit. What the fuck were Landry soldiers doing down here in the catacombs? This wasn’t their turf, and they knew better than to walk into Boudreaux territory and start shooting. What the fuck were they doing, and why? What could they possibly want down here?

Shit.

My mind, two steps too slow, caught up, and I started shooting again. I was a fucking idiot. They were down here because of me. The Landry heiress who had been kidnapped by a Boudreaux henchman and brought down into the catacombs to...

God, they must have been watching and jumped right to the conclusion that the Boudreaux had brought me down here to hold me ransom—or worse—and thought they’d come down here with guns blasting to rescue me.

Actually, scratch that. They were always looking for a reason to fight the Boudreaux clan. This was probably just a convenient excuse. I would have to be a fucking idiot to think my father would come to my rescue that quickly, even if I’d been kidnapped for ransom or murder. Hell, he’d probably look at it as a business opportunity—or a chance to try to strong-arm Gemini Boudreaux into a deal he’d been avoiding.

He’d treat it the same way Fat Jimmy Rossi had treated Sloane Brennan’s kidnapping. A way to get what he wanted, and damn the consequences.

And a second point. My father had literally told me an hour ago that he wasn’t going to lift a finger to help me. He’d told me I was on my own. As far as I was concerned, that clinched it. He refused to help me and then sent men with guns in after me—and not to save me, either, since they were currently shooting at me.

Lucien might not have expected me, but he’d welcomed me with open arms. And kisses that were just as hot as they’d ever been. My father’s men were currently trying to kill me.

It wasn’t hard to figure out whose side I was going to come down on.

I glanced to my right and left, taking in the scene, and realized two things at the same time: First, my father’s men were outnumbered, and second, they were shooting their way right toward Camille, who had taken shelter behind a broken bit of wall.

Well, I wasn’t going to let them get to her. They might be her family but I didn’t trust them, and I didn’t want her getting caught in the crossfire.

I jumped to my feet and raced for her, firing over my shoulder to lay down my own cover. When I got to the wall I dropped and slid across the floor on my knees, coming to a rest just below her. Reaching up, I jerked her down to the ground.

“Are you armed?” I gasped.

“No,” she snapped. “I didn’t realize we were expecting a gunfight!”

“You and me both,” I muttered, peeking around the crumbling edge of the wall. The Landry men were holding their own now, with the Boudreaux all hunkered down behind another bit of wall on the other side of the room.

I wanted to get the hell out of here, but both groups were between us and the exit. And I didn’t think shooting our way out was going to be a great option. I also didn’t think we could afford to get caught in here. Sure, we were both Landry girls, but soldiers in New Orleans were notoriously undisciplined compared to the ones in New York. Everyone down here was a freelancer, which meant they could go rogue as easily as they maintained their loyalty.

And men who went rogue did bad things to girls like us.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, why had I come down here in the first place? I knew New York like the back of my hand; knew who I could count on and who I couldn’t. More importantly, everyone knew me and knew to stay out of my way.

Down here... They knew me, all right, but that didn’t mean they were going to leave me alone. And Camille was in even more danger.

At that moment, one of the Landry soldiers looked over and caught me watching him. His eyes narrowed at me like he’d just realized exactly who I was and I saw the glint of a smile start to curve his mouth.

I jerked my gun up, took a breath, and pulled the trigger, blowing his head off before he could do anything else.

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