Page 53 of Still Burning

The door opened again, but I didn’t take my eyes off the gun aimed at me.

It wasn’t true what they said about your life flashing before your eyes. At least not for me.

All I saw was Rome. Every memory I had of him.

“I don’t have all fucking day,” a deep voice drawled, followed by a pop.

Brady’s gun fell from his hand and onto the bed as his body jerked and his eyes went wide.

Staring in horror and shock, I waited for him to crumple to the floor, but he was staring down at his arm. Whoever the man was who had walked in hadn’t killed him, just shot the arm that had held the gun. Brady was breathing hard as he glared down at his arm, then back up at the man. I swung my gaze from his bleedinggunshot wound to look at him, too, but like the others, it was hard to make out much from the shadows in the room.

“Go,” the man told me, then turned his gaze back to Brady.

“You’re a cocky bastard,” the man said as the other men parted to let him step in front. “Coming into my territory, taking what doesn’t belong to you, then flaunting her as if you can’t be touched.”

I moved off the bed, still unsure if I should just walk out the door. I wanted to run, but there were guns involved, and I wasn’t willing to gamble with Rome’s life. Brady wasn’t dead. He’d heal from an arm wound, and he could follow through with his threat.

Watching the man who had told me to go, I saw him step into the light. Sweet Jesus, that was not what I had expected. Had I gasped out loud? I hoped not. But I couldn’t be the only woman who reacted that way. He resembled Charlie Hunnam, but better, and I hadn’t known that was possible.

“She’s my brother’s wife,” Brady hissed as he held his arm.

“Yet you held her at gunpoint. Don’t seem real loyal to me,” he replied, then cut his eyes back to me. “You can go.” He repeated his earlier order.

Moving a little more toward my shoes, I looked from him to Brady, who was scowling at me.

“He-he will kill Rome if I go,” I stammered out.

“Who’s Rome?” one of them asked.

“That’s Tex’s real name, I’m guessing. You know how the bikers nickname each other and shit,” the one closest to me said.

“He won’t kill Tex,” the man said, looking back at Brady. “He might not make it out of here alive to kill anyone else again. I’ve not decided yet. I don’t like it when my wife is upset. And taking a woman right from her father’s property, causing one of his closest friends grief? That upset her. I can’t have that.”

“Fuck,” Brady muttered, closing his eyes briefly, almost as if in defeat.

Another dark laugh. “That’s right, Irish. You messed with the—what was it he called us?”

“The good ole boy Mafia,” another supplied.

The gorgeous man was Liam’s son-in-law. I wanted to weep with relief. Rome had sent the Mafia to save me.

“Now, get on outside. Tex is waiting on you, and the fucker is less than patient.”

Nodding, I didn’t glance back at Brady. He wasn’t going to get my sympathy. We weren’t family.

I grabbed my shoes and didn’t even stop to put them on, but hurried for the door. The guy closest to it—the one that was most frightening until Blaise Hughes had entered the room—opened it for me, and I rushed out into the night.

The parking lot looked deserted, and my gaze swung over the area as panic started to replace my joy. Then a familiar form stepped between two parked cars and started my way. When the streetlight lit up his face, I let out another sob and broke into a run. Rome’s long strides quickened, and his arms opened as I reached him.

I threw myself against his chest while his two strong arms wrapped around me tightly, lifting me off the ground. He buried his face against my neck and inhaled deeply.

“Angel Face,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

I clung to him, praying this was all real and I wasn’t sleeping.

He ran his hand over the back of my head and let out a ragged breath. “I’m so sorry.” The anguish in his tone made me cry harder.

He had no reason to feel as if this were his fault. None of it was. This was all caused from my choices and my naivete. I’d trusted the wrong man.

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