Page 115 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

Just then, I hear Grace’s voice, sharp with fear. “Teddy, behind you!”

I spin to find another attacker closing in, his gun raised. Conscious that Grace is behind me, I make sure to place my body in his firing line, just in case his gun goes off. Throwing myself toward him, without thought of consequence, I manage to grab a string of decorative garland from the floor–while blocking his view–and swing it around his neck. He struggles, clawing at it, but I pull hard, yanking him off balance and using the momentum to floor him.

The flow of assailants seems to slow down, yet not quick enough. I catch sight of Key and Atlas in the thick of it, trading brutal blows, blood splattered on the walls as they hold their ground. But there are still too many.

The floor’s a slick mess of shattered ornaments and blood, and my breath comes in quick, jagged gasps, but I can’t let up. I glance back at Grace, noting her eyes flitting between all three of us, shouting at the others where attacks come from behind. My chest aches with pride at the fierce mix of fear and determination on her face. Without doubt, if she hadn't been here for this fight, we would not be walking out of this alive.

She really is our Christmas Angel.

I shake myself out of my reverie just in time to see another attacker lunge. I pivot, grabbing a fallen Christmas tree stand and swing it up and around, catching him square in the chest with enough force to send him sprawling into a pile of broken lights. His gun slips from his hand, but before I can grab it, another assailant rushes in. Too far away for me to tackle him in hand-to-hand combat, I watch on helplessly as he aims his weapon straight at Grace. Atlas and Key are both engaged in two-on-one fights, so I can’t count on their help.

My mind races as my heart threatens to give out on me. My eyes dart around as I try to find something, anything I can use to stop him, but there’s nothing within reach. There’s nothing I can do.

Out of options, I move in front of her and brace myself for the pain I know is coming. I feel Grace’s breath behind me, quick and shallow, pressing into my back. But I can’t focus on that right now. All I need to focus on is shielding her. Protecting her.

Even if it’s with my last breath.

Raising his gun, the barrel glinting in the dim light and I brace myself, pulling Grace closer behind me. Snarling at the wicked gleam in his eyes, a grin splits his lips, making my innerbeast howl in torment. How I wish I could wipe that dirty ass smirk off his face.

My hearing fades and my vision narrows in on him as he moves his finger over the trigger.

“Stay behind me, Little One. Whatever you do, do not move. Wait for one of the guys to come get you. Do you understand me?”

“Teddy no-”

“Grace!” I snap, instantly regretting it. But this is important.

I hear her swallow behind me followed by a meek, “yes,” as she grips my shirt tightly and drops her forehead to my back.

I hold my breath and look him directly in the eye as his finger depresses the trigger. In that split second, Atlas charges in from the side and slams into him with the force of a freight train, sending them both crashing into the wall. Grace jolts and screams behind me as the gun fires off into the ceiling, bits of plaster raining down upon us both.

Releasing her grip, I dive forward and kick the gun from his hand just as he manages to make it to a knee and tries to aim again. He snarls, standing and initiating hand-to-hand combat, but Atlas and I are on him, relentless. I grab a broken candy cane from the floor, sharp as a blade, and drive it into his shoulder, twisting until he cries out. Atlas follows up with a brutal punch to his gut, forcing him down onto his knees once more.

Across the room, Key takes down the second of his two attackers with a fierce swing of a heavy wooden…something, the crack echoing as the guy crumples to the floor. Spinning round, crouched and at the ready, the three of us scan the room for more threats. Only to realize, Key just took down the last one.

Standing there, breath heaving, sweat and blood dripping onto the floor, and surrounded by broken glass, decorations, and bodies, we take a second just to breathe. All three of our heads snap to the last guy as he stumbles, trying to get up.

Sensing my fury, my brothers make no attempt to stop him. Instead, I step forward, sneering down at him, my adrenaline still surging.

“You ruined my woman’s Christmas dinner,” I snarl.

And that…is unforgivable.

He barely has time to look up before I slam him back down with one final punch, his head hitting the floor hard enough to knock him out cold. For a moment, the room falls completely silent, the tension finally breaking. The attackers are down, unmoving or dead, and the only sounds left are the crackling of the shattered lights and our own breaths, ragged and raw.

Thank God these guys were the worst sort of fighters ever. I swear if most of them didn’t miss shots, or were unable to fend us off in close quarters, we’d all be dead right now.

I glance around, checking for any signs of movement, when my gaze drifts to the stairs. There, half-hidden in the shadows, is Jason, cowering with his back pressed against the railing, his eyes wide and terrified.

For a moment, our eyes meet, but I feel nothing but disgust. He didn’t lift a finger to help. I turn away without a second thought, my focus shifting back to where it belongs.

Grace stands near the edge of the room, the glass ornament in her hand finally dropping from her grip and shattering on the floor at her feet. Her chest rises and falls as she takes in the aftermath.

Atlas, Key, and I exchange a look, each of us wincing as we watch her face. The sparkle that had lit her eyes before the attack is now gone, replaced by a slack expression that cuts deeper than any blow we’ve taken tonight.

Shit.

Chapter Forty-One

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