Page 45 of Surge of Ice

He kisses my throat. “MySamantha.”

“I know,” I whisper back. “I know.”

He wants to keep me safe. That’s how he’s wired, and I’m pretty sure I can’t do a damn thing about it, so I’ll just have to be aware enough about the guns to keep him safe too.

“Listen,” Dahlia’s voice rings out. “We’re going to do what you say. We’re going to let you take us to the ATM to empty our accounts, but you don’t have to hurt us.”

“What did you say to me, bitch?” he growls.

I indicate to Zane it’s time, and then I shove into the room, racing straight for one of the men with a gun. They don’t have time to react; we’re too fast. I grab the hand and snap it, leaving him screaming, and the gun tumbles from his hand. Then I kick the gun as hard as I can, so it goes sliding under a booth, and I square off with the men around me.

Zane, beside me, has gone for the other man with the gun. He yanks his hand upward. The gun goes off into the ceiling, and everybody screams. Then, Zane snatches the gun out of his hand, glances at it in confusion, and snaps the thing in half.

“No more guns,” he says with a deadly smile that shouldn’t be so sexy.

The men go crazy and attack. A man hits me in the face, but I manage to duck the next blow. Another one grabs me from behind and lifts me up for half a second before I elbow him as hard as I can from behind as another man approaches me from the front.

Dahlia screams and jumps to her feet. She leaps on the man in front of me, the one preparing to hit me again. He does a spin, then grabs her from off his back and throws her. Her head hits the side of one of the tables, and she slumps to the floor.

A scream tears from my lips and smoke rises from my mouth. “Mistake,” I murmur.

Everything slows down. When I break his face, when I crush his bones, when I don’t stop, even when he begs for me to. Another man tries to stop me. I feel his blows, feel his anger, feel my flesh being hurt, but I don’t react until I’m done with the man who hurt Dahlia. Then I turn on the new man.

But I don’t even get to attack him. Zane is on him like an animal. He pummels him, and another man, with his fists. They try to run, they try to escape, but he’s everywhere.

When none of the bad guys are moving, Zane comes to me and touches my face. “Samantha?”

“I’m okay,” I say. “But Dahlia…”

I rush to her side and touch her neck. Her pulse is there, strong and steady. Relief flows through me, even though the cut on her forehead will need stitches. “We need to take her and get her out of here. We need to get her back to base.”

Zane doesn’t hesitate. He sweeps her up into his arms. Her long dark hair falls like a curtain around her, and her tan skin looks several shades paler.

My gaze goes to the other people in the room. “The riot is still going on. It’s not safe out there.”

One man, clearly a cook, stands and gets the gun the gun I kicked under the booth. “It’s okay. We’ll lock the side door and remain here until things calm down. No assholes will get back in here after that.”

“And then we’ll tie these thugs up,” the old lady says, rubbing her cheek.

“Just… be careful,” is all I can manage.

We leave the grateful people behind and watch as they lock the door behind us. I lead and Zane follows, carrying Dahlia. The mob in the street isn’t any calmer, so I’m knocked around a bit as we make our way back to the car. I’m sure Zane is too, but I imagine it’s pretty hard to successfully knock around someone as big as him.

When we reach the alley, there is a ground of people at the very end of it. Zane and I exchange a glance, but we get Dahlia into the car and lay her out on the back seat. I’m about to get in the driver’s seat when Zane stops me.

“One moment.”

Then, to my horror, he goes to approach the four men at the back of the alley.

I curse under my breath and lock the car, hurrying after him, wondering what he’s thinking. We’ve seen enough trouble today that we don’t have to bring more trouble to our doorstep. But then I see the four men have surrounded something. What, I’m not sure, but their cruel laughter makes my heartbeat race.

We need to just get out of here and get Dahlia to the doctor.

“Leave it alone,” Zane says, his words low and threatening.

The four men jump a little and turn around, which is exactly when I see the long haired orange cat cowering in the corner, trapped between the end of the alley and some boxes and crap. Its long fur is matted and filthy, and its ears are back in fear. Probably because they’re using sticks to poke at it.

“What did you say to me?” one of the men says, taking another step forward, dropping the stick he’s carrying, his fists clenched.

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