Page 192 of His Pretty Little Duet

"Max? Talk to me," I call out, unable to see him while I guard her beneath me.

Fawn whimpers within my hold. The sound of ammunition hitting the dirt around us forces high-pitched yelps of terror from her. She covers her ears.

I lift my head to assess Max's condition, but he's crawling along the dirt towards Xander, moving with strength, unaffected by the wound. That's my brother.

Xander meets him on the ground, and for a second, they embrace, and I smile with relief.

Then I hear Bronson's laughter ring from somewhere inside the circling black mist, a manic sound that follows a gurgling howl, then a roar of hysterics.

"Seven lil' bikers all in a row, seven bikers in a row, " he sings, and I catch a blur of his silhouette and another's dashing around behind the headlights across from me. "Take one down, what do you have"—A man groans—"Sixlil' bikers all in a row."

Max is on his feet now, charging straight towards an oncoming bike. He throws himself at the rider, slamming the body to the dusty ground. Soot and debris rise around them. The two wrestling figures are swallowed by smoke. The smacks of skin to skin follow them.

Assessing the immediate area, the unknown location of Dustin unnerving me, I pull Fawn with me as I crawl over the ashy dirt on my elbows towards the Chrysler.

I hide her behind the tyre, cup her cheeks soaked in tears and soot, and kiss her lips. Feeling too much.Damn her.I love her too much. Then I rip open my suit shirt, tug the bulletproof vest from my body, and fasten it around her.

She clutches at my shirt. "I'm sorry. I'mso, sosorry."

I punch kisses over her face. Anger towards her surfaces. Now she is safe. Now she is in my arms. My hands twitch. "Don't ever do that again, little deer. Don't ever defy me—betray me again!”

My choice of word throws her—betray—her breath catching on it. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't let you choose me."

"Dammit! I willalwayschoose you!"

Her small fists shake, still curled around the fabric at my chest. "Maybe I can talk to him." She wheezes, and the wordbetrayaltakes on new meanings as her concerns shines in tears. No. She’s just desperate. Confused. She knows this has to happen. "Yes. Yes. Maybe he will stop this. I can convince him I'm worth knowing and that we are in love and?—"

Fuck.You’re worth knowing, sweet girl. He’s not!

But I don't have time to coddle her as the war continues around us. Shaking my head, I say, "He shot at you, sweet girl. He shot at you."

Her lips wobble, and I curse, ever fuelled by the need to make him pay.Goddamn it.I don't have time for more sentiment, so I drag myself from the sweet, little hands desperate to keep me close.

"No," she cries as I head back into the open. And it dawns on me that it may not be my safety or her own that causes her to suffer through that cry. Perhaps it is for her father. That the reality of him, his existence, and the slight similarity in the shape of his eyes may have altered the idea of him for her—he's real now.

Fucker.Drawing my Glock, I find purchase behind a blackened trunk before moving to another.

I hear Bronson sing again. "Take one down, what do you have"—another groan echoes—"fivelil' bikers all in a row."

Upon me, a biker appears through the grey clouds and throws a fist into my face. I hiss on contact, dropping my gun. I curse.

He gets in close, so I pull him in further by his cut and slam my forehead into his nose.

The biker thug stumbles backwards, and I use the reprieve to claim my knife from my belt and slice him from ear to ear, the sound of gurgling vibrates through the slit.

Then I hear Fawn screech and ice slides through my veins. I dash to her place beside the tyre. My heart thunders in my throat. She's gone. "Fawn!"

I hear her gasp, and my brain fractures. I charge straight towards her frantic sounds as the thought of losing her tears my stone heart in two. I’ll die for her.

I’ll take every bullet, all the pain, the beatings, and it’ll be my greatest pleasure to suffer them for her. To die devoting my life to her. So if there is a fucking heaven and by some crazy instance, I am allowed to visit from the pits of hell, I’ll hold her unborn baby for her because I am devoted to her even in death.

I rush to the sound, dodging trees, jumping over the wreckage of a bike on fire. Passing Bronson on his knees, straddling a biker, sliding his blade upwards into the fucker's mandible.

Abruptly, I see them.

A burning branch lays over Max's leg, pinning him to the dirt. Flames flick around his body. Across from him, Dustin approaches with a knife raised and?—

"Fawn!"

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