Page 8 of Bad Guys Need Love Too

A tricked-out sports car screeched to a stop in front of the shop. Ren was already out of the truck, kicking the shop’s side door open when the shooter leaned out the window and sprayed the front window full of lead with his AK-47.

When he found her, Lark was on the ground behind the counter, trying to shield the owner with her body, but the older woman was having none of it.Shewas too busy trying to grab the Remington 870 she kept under the counter.

Ren dove behind the counter with them, earning a shocked screech from Lark. He brushed some glass out of her hair and moved his hands over her quickly. “Are you hit?”

She blinked up at him. “Bill? What the hell are you doing here?”

He let out a relieved breath. If she was worried about why he was there, she wasn’t hit. He glanced over to find Sherry peekingup over the counter, Remington now in hand. “Are they still out there?” he asked.

“No,” she said, disgusted. “Assholes drove off. But they could be back. I hit the panic button under the counter. Cops should be on the way. Their response time is shit, though.”

“How the fuck are you so calm?” Lark asked her, incredulous.

“I’ve been here a long time. Before the yuppies moved into this neighborhood, we had drive-bys and robberies every week. There was alwayssomethinggoing down.” She sighed, sounding nostalgic. “Those were the days.”

Ren glanced at Sherry. “Look, this is about Lark. There’s been a hit taken out on her. I need to get her out of here. Are you OK waiting here for the cops?”

Sherry pumped a bullet into the chamber of the Remington one-handed like she was Sarah Conner inTerminator 2and grinned. “I got this.”

Lark’s gaze bounced between them. “You’re both insane. Sherry, I’m not leaving you. And you—” she poked him in the chest “—I don’t know you. How do I know those assholes weren’t shooting atyou?”

He held his hands up in supplication. “I can explain everything. But can I explain it somewhereotherthan the scene of the crime?”

She opened her mouth, no doubt to object or argue, but a noise coming from the back of the shop snagged her attention. “Someone just came in the back door!” she hissed.

“The drive-by was a decoy,” Ren said. “The real shooter wanted us focused on the front so he could come in the back door.”

“How do you know that?” Lark asked.

He didn’t answer. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d be comforted by the knowledge that it was what he would’ve done.

Sherry turned the gun toward the back room. “Hey, asshole,” she shouted. “I’m armed and have no problem putting a bullet between your eyes. Leave now and we can avoid that kind of unpleasantness.”

Ren grabbed Lark’s arm and eased her behind him. He’d toss her over his shoulder and carry her out if he had to.

“I’m not here for you, Ms. Willet,” a deep, lightly accented voice came from behind the door that separated the front of the store and the back office. “Send the girl to me and you’re free to go.”

Lark’s eyes went wide and there was a part of Ren that was relieved. This fucker was a professional killer, but at least she’d believe thatRenwasn’t the bad guy now.

Sherry gestured to the side door with the gun barrel and hissed at Ren, “Take her and go.” But to the killer behind the door she said, “I believe I’ll reject your kind offer. But thanks for letting me know exactly where you’re standing.”

And with that, she fired a shot into the wall to the right of the door, right about thigh level if the guy was as tall as Ren. If he was shorter…well, that’d be unfortunate for him.

The killer let out a pained grunt and muttered a vicious curse in Italian. Apparently, Sherry’s aim had been true. When she chambered another bullet, Ren scooped Lark up, slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her from squealing and letting the killer know whereshewas, and made a run for his truck.

When he shoved Lark into the passenger seat, he heard Sherry shout, “Cops are coming, motherfucker! Wanna explain to them why a helpless old lady like me managed to get the drop on you? Or are you gonna run like a little bitch?”

Ren suppressed a snort. Helpless? There was nothing helpless about Sherry. But that didn’t mean he felt right about leaving her there.

Then a wailing siren a few streets over let him know the cops were finally on their way. He assumed Sherry would be fine until they got there.

Jumping into the truck, he started it up and hit the gas with enough force to throw Lark back against her seat. A quick glance in the rearview told him they weren’t being followed. That was good. He didn’t want to try and lose a tail with Lark in the truck.

The guy’s gunshot wound wouldn’t keep him out of the game for long, though. Once he recovered, he’d be back on the job. That meant for the foreseeable future, he’d have to watch Lark more closely than usual. Like, within touching distance.

He glanced over at her. She was huddled against the door, eyeing him like he was a grenade with the pin pulled.

Damn it. How was he supposed to get the woman he was stalking, the woman who’d just been involved in a shootout, the woman he’d justkidnappedfrom her place of employment, to trust him?

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