Page 23 of Sinner's Secret

Another vehicle passed them on the street. Baz had only a moment to register the flash of light off the barrel of a gun in the car’s open window out of the corner of his eye.

Adrenaline shot into his system, injecting his bloodstream with hot lightning and incandescent rage.

The bastards were back, sans subtlety, and he was too fucking far away from Nika.

“Down,” he roared at her, putting his body between her, her partner, and the street as bullets ripped into his cab and the surrounding pavement and buildings.

She dropped to the ground, while her team members did the same. He was the only idiot who stayed on his feet.

The vehicle sped past, continued toward the police station, then slowed and opened fire at the people coming and going from the station’s entrance. The weapons spit bullets so fast the shooters had to be using something with an auto mode.

There was some return fire, but it was too little too late. After five seconds, everyone who’d been standing, was on the ground.

Baz watched the vehicle speed away, holding himself back from chasing after it by the barest thread of caution and the need to ensure Nika was safe.

If she was hurt, he might just let his inner monster out to play.

Chapter Five

“Nika?” Baz called out, making an effort to try to sound less like a mass murderer and more like a bored cab driver as possible. “You okay?”

Her head popped up from the other side of the cab just high enough for him to see her. “Yeah,” she replied. “Anyone hurt?” She rose slowly, looking around.

“Fuck,” Smith said with a hiss.

Baz glanced at the man and realized he’d pushed him hard to the ground. A dark shimmer of something wet glistened on his suit jacket’s arm. The scent of blood hit Baz at the same time. It made him want to take a bite out of the guy. Literally.

Baz hogtied his desire for clean, healthy blood, then bent down to see where Smith had been wounded with slow, careful control.

“It looks like your partner’s left arm has been hit,” Baz said to Nika.

Multiple sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer and closer, sending an itch up Baz’s spine. It made him want to either tear something apart with his bare hands or get as far away from here as possible.

He did neither, but it took a second or two to lock himself down from either response.

“Shit,” one of the other team members spit out as they too got to their feet. “We’ve got multiple men down at the station.”

“Davis, go help at the station,” Nika ordered. “Baz, help Smith over to the sidewalk. Williams, maintain a watch. We don’t want the assholes who did this to circle back for a second round.”

That was an action he could comply with and extended a hand to Smith.

Smith grunted but was able to get to his feet with Baz’s help. He stumbled over to the sidewalk and sat down a little too fast. While Baz crouched next to Smith, Nika tugged at the man’s suit jacket until she was able to get it off, revealing a white collared shirt. The blood on the left arm sleeve almost obscured the bullet hole in it.

“Did it hit the artery?” Nika asked. “Do you need a tourniquet?”

At her question, Baz reached out and ripped the sleeve off so they could all get a better look at the wound.

“It’s bleeding freely,” Baz said. “But not enough to suggest the brachial artery has been nicked.”

Nika and Smith looked at him like he’d sprouted a pineapple on his head. “What?”

“Who do you think you are?” Smith asked through gritted teeth. “A paramedic?”

He shrugged. “I was my unit’s medic in the military. It’s been a few years, but some things you never forget.”

“And you drive a cab now?” her partner asked, skepticism making his tone higher than usual. “Why didn’t you get a bit more training and become a paramedic?”

Baz just shrugged again. He wasn’t about to explain all the fucked-up reasons he’d joined the Marines, and the even more fucked-up ones he left with.

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