Page 78 of Simply You & Me

Blood coats Julian’s face, a nasty bruise already forming. He said nothing else was hurt and demanded he help us. I'm pretty fucking sure he has a concussion, but I won't hold him back from getting our woman back. He’s strapped into his own black gear in under a second while we all listen to Johnathan lose his absolute shit at our woman. Our sassy, fiery woman who’s going to get a damn spanking for her risky fucking behavior.

"THEY ALL WANT ME! Your gay boy band sent the wrong people to prison, and now they. Want. ME! Every single one of the fuckers hired me! Because they want ME!"

"Fuck," Tate whispers, eyes wide as he stares at me from the seat beside me. "Is he?—"

Crashing and grunts through the audio have me taking the final turn way too fast to be safe, but I can't take it anymore. We have to get to her. Her tracker brought us to an abandoned fucking warehouse in the woods.

I'm out of the car in a flash, refusing to wait a second longer to ensure my doll is safe. My gun is up and aimed at the two fuckwads scrambling from their perches on the ground. I don't hesitate. I shoot. Twice. Before they hit the ground, I'm busting through the rusted door just as the worst sound to ever fucking exist pierces my eardrum.

My love and fear burst from me in an uncontrollable detonation. "ADDIE!"

Chapter Fifty-Two

Julian

Guilt aches worse than the blow to my head. First for allowing Addie to get into an accident, then for not protecting her when she needed me the most. And now, for my slow limbs keeping me behind and unable to take the burden of one death. Zach took them both, unwavering in his vengeance and need to get our girl.

"Fuck, I don't have eyes. The place is too old. No cameras, I just have yours." Wyatt's voice is a distant murmur in my ear.

I fight back the wooziness threatening to keep me from Addie as Zach shoves the shitty metal door open. Tate files in behind him, and I take the rear. Tate shouldn't be here. At all. He may have skills, but he can't fucking do this. I don't know what it would do to him to take another life or fuck, see another person he loves in pain.

Mold and dirt assault my senses until a scream sends me stumbling into the wet concrete wall. Addie. Shoving aside my concussion and the pain her screams send shooting through my skull, I throw myself down the hall behind the other two.

"Julian, careful," Wyatt cautions, knowing I'm likely more hurt than I'm letting on. But there's no time.

Zach's foot and Tate's shoulder ram into the final metal door in the long, dank hallway, releasing Addie's screams and mingling with male shouts. Dragging behind, I'm last to raise my gun and aim at the fucker who’s sitting on my girl. Tate and Zach already fanned out, giving me the space to do what I need to do.

Cadell raises his own gun, a bloody knife hanging limp at his side. Addie isn't moving, but first, he needs to die.

I see Tate twitch and Zach stiffen, both ready to take the life of another human being. I'm faster. I'll take this one for them. For us. There's only so much wrong we can do until it ruins us, and Zach just got two steps closer outside. These may be evil men, but we aren't. We're better.

I pull the trigger, feeling my soul blacken a little more as Johnathan Cadell falls away from our girl. I shoot again. One in the chest, one in the head.

Time suspends again; my ears ringing and my throat burning with bile. I am not evil, but I will do anything for my family. I am not a bad man. Not anymore. I'm better. We're better.

I took a man’s life, and I'll have to live with that stain on my soul for all eternity, but right now? That concern ceases to exist when I come to, seeing Tate wrapped around Addie.

Blood, so much blood.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Tate

This can't be happening. Not again. Not again!

As soon as Cadell's weight is off Addie, I'm flying toward her. I barely register the second bullet flying through the air and splattering the bastard’s brains. I don't care; it doesn't matter. Because there's so much blood.

"LYNNIE!" I have her in my arms the moment I'm close enough to grab her. Zach isn't far behind, but I pay no mind. "Hey, hey. We're here now. You're okay. Open your eyes, Lynnie. You're safe now. You can wake up."

Zach chokes, but still I keep my eyes focused on her face. She's pale. But she's always pale. "Please, Lynnie. He's gone. Nobody will ever hurt you again. I promise. Just look at me," I beg.

I fucking plead until Zach’s flailing arms draw my attention. His vest is thrown to the side and his shirt’s off. Then he's pressing it to her arm. That's where the blood is, my mind supplies, trying to force together the information we see lying right in front of us.

"Give me your shirt," Zach demands, but his voice is hardly a croak. His shouting and yelling have ceased. All that rage has morphed into unbridled shock and terror.

Using one arm, I rip my vest off and yank my shirt over my head, not releasing her for a damn second. Zach lifts his blood-soaked shirt, and I finally see why my girl won’t wake up.

"She's bleeding out," I whimper, hugging her closer to my chest.

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