Page 154 of Bad Little Bride

Her smile is slow, and she laughs again. “I know.”

Captain Brayshaw is right behind his woman, dragging something from behind him.

Not something…someone.

He’s dragging them by the foot, their body and skull bouncing off each step as he rushes down, his free hand folded in his girl’s, like they’re out on a Saturday fucking stroll, and I’m about ready to chop all their heads off for going along with what had to have been Boston’s idea.

Had she done what she was told like a good girl, Bastian would have slid into the front seat of her car at the first stop sign outside of the Fikile estate, but my wife is no good girl.

I should have seen something coming a mile away.

Captain bends, hauling the body into his arms before dumping the guy in the trunk of a small, white piece of shit with a dented front end. A beater, untraceable car, if I had to guess, but he no sooner gets the trunk latched when several guards rush form the building, guns raised and spraying bullets across the entire parking lot without caution.

“Down,” I growl, pushing Boston lower and hugging my body around her, Mino’s bullets whistling past my ear as he fires back. “Baby, crawl to the side and get in the back seat of the car behind this one. Lay on the floorboard and my men will get you out.”

“Philip is working with someone from the union,” she rushes. “Trust no one, baby,” she says, kissing my cheek before following my orders.

“She really thinks you weren’t already aware there was another cock in the house?” Mino grins, peeking around the car to count heads.

The moment I see her feet disappear under the car door, I pull out my weapons. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

“Without a doubt.” Mino scoffs, adding a few extra mags to his pocket. “Ready?”

One curt nod is all he needs.

We shoot to our feet in unison, firing from both hands, and force our way forward.

No one fucks with our family and lives to talk about it.

“No survivors.”

Mino smirks, unloading the clip from the gun in his left fist with one hand, his knee flying up to snap the new one in place, still shooting from the one in his right. “Not a fucking one.”

Boston

I climbinto the back seat, quickly opening the opposite door and climb back out, tiptoeing toward the rear bumper of the fourth car and coming to a halt, knife slipped from my sleeve and forearm slanted so it’s crossed over my face, ready to jab out for a deadly blow, only to come face-to-face with Raven Brayshaw…in the exact same position as me, a switchblade tight in her fist.

She raises a brow then faces forward, frowning. “Shit, we got more coming in from the right. We gotta move, Big Man.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Maddoc growls from his place a few cars over.

Raven bolts and he growls, following her every step.

I spin, crouching low, and run past two of our own vehicles. One of our guys swivels, AK pointed at my head.

“Mrs. Fikile!” he shouts, pointing his weapon forward and taking several steps backward, in an attempt to guard me. “Stay back!” he worries. “Sir, I’ve got her.”

Fuck! He’s using his comm!

“Boston!” is screamed across the lot, and I wince. I don’t think he’s ever called me by my name.

So. Much. Trouble.

The guard reaches for my hand, and I roll my eyes as I dash across the yard, hiding behind a dumpster, and pull out the gun Enzo gifted me. I choose the guy closest to my husband and fire.

Enzo’s head whips my way, and he yanks back, watching as the man crumbles to his knees. I make a show of blowing on the gun like they do in the movies, knowing if he inspects my target closer—he absolutely will when all is said and done—he’ll find the bullet is perfectly placed, dead center in the man’s forehead.

He shakes his head, ducking when a guy charges at him, delivering a deadly blow with his heavy fist.

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