Page 77 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

“Did you hear that?”

“Huh?” Mallory asks.

“Do you have a gun?”

“I’m a Boston liberal, Amanda. What do you think?”

She’s also a white woman in a mob family, so I wouldthinkher first choice would be using her second amendment rights to protect herself.

“Does your neighbor come home around this time?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Mallory says.

Then we both jump, because a sharp elbow collides with Mallory’s front door, splitting the old wood open. My nails dig into Mallory’s forearm and her eyes meet mine, wide and afraid. Why the hell did I leave Ethan’s house without a gun?

* * *

Twenty-Eight

Ethan

Ihave seconds to act. The number of men walking into the apartment doesn't seem like what you would do for a simple hit. You need at most two assassins for a hit, especially for one woman. That doesn't make me feel any better. I send out a text blast to all the available back up in my area. I don't know who can come out here on such short notice.

Reed Hollingsworth might still be in the city. Darragh's gone for the next few days. Zebulon Blackwood might be kicking around. Then Magnum and if I'm lucky, Ryder Sinclair might be out in Boston or have some contacts he can send my way.

I don't have time to wait. Only the Chrysler has a driver, so if I round the Prius and keep low, I can sneak into the apartment. I doubt they locked the front door. I get tunnel vision for that front door and it's remarkably easy to get to it undetected. I don't hear anything alarming -- no fighting, no screams, no gunshots...

My phone buzzes in my pocket, which I can only hope is one of the bastard's I messaged texting me back that they're on the way to the address. I have maybe forty-five minutes until anyone gets here. If I'm unlucky. If I'm lucky, the club moves mountains to get here in fifteen.

My gun already feels hot. I climb the stairs to the second floor condo before I finally hear deep voices and then a white woman saying loudly, "I don't care! I'm not going back to Pittsburgh!"

That must be Mallory. My heart sinks into my stomach. What if they shot Amanda? I don't think I should elbow Mallory's door open without waiting for a plan to pop into my head. Wyatt would kick my ass for a reckless move like this, but with Amanda in danger, I never stood a chance at thinking straight.

I drop my shoulder and shove the door open, entering into Mallory’s townhouse. I hear hands swooshing through the air quickly and then I hear two of the guns make clicking sounds as bullets drop into the pistol chamber. I raise my hand, dropping my weapon to the floor. I can get it back, and I have another in my cut so... I want to calm them down, not provoke them to shoot before I make sure Amanda’s safe. They look young and inexperienced. It’s a gamble, but one I’m willing to take to avoid shooting indoors where a bullet could ricochet and hurt the woman I love.

I scan the room quickly, searching only for Amanda, but noting all the details of the scene as they unfold.

She's here. Seated across from Mallory in this wine-scented room. They both look drunk, putting them at an even greater disadvantage if they ever stood a chance at all against four men, each one closer to my height than theirs.

Mobsters. Blatant mobsters with thick gold link chains and rings that could knock a man's tooth out.

"I'm here for Amanda Yancey. I don't care what you do with the other one."

"ETHAN!" Amanda squeals before one of the men wraps his hand around her mouth and puts a gun to her head. I nearly lose my shit, but I have to stay calm to meet my only goal here - getting Amanda out alive.

"He loves you," Mallory whispers, in a way that seems truly irrelevant to the situation. Of course I love Amanda.

Out of the four men in the room, I can't identify a leader until he speaks. Even then, he looks... young. No older than twenty-one years old, but almost my height. Interesting.

"No one leaves until my sister agrees to come back to Pittsburgh with us."

"I've never met you," Mallory says. "I have no proof you're my brother and I'm not seeing my father again. Never. You'll have to kill me."

Amanda makes muffled squeals into her captor's hands. I hate that he thinks he has a right to touch her.

"I'll help you take her if you let Amanda go," I insist, ignoring Amanda's glaring looks.

"Hey!" Mallory says to me, waving a drunken finger in my direction. "Don't get involved. I'm not going back to Pittsburgh."

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