Page 36 of Brick's Retribution

But something has shifted, turned into something a little more complicated.

Hell, the kiss we shared earlier is proof of that.

"Not anymore," I admit finally. "Not after today."

She's quiet for so long I think she might have fallen asleep.

Then I feel her hand, warm and sure, finding mine in the darkness.

"Get some sleep," she whispers. "I'll watch your back."

The unexpected role reversal—her protecting me—pulls a smile from somewhere deep inside me. "I thought that was my line."

"We protect each other," she says simply. "That's the deal now."

Her hand remains in mine as sleep finally claims me, her words echoing in my mind.

We protect each other.

An unexpected partnership to say the least.

And right now, in this dingy motel room in the middle of nowhere, hunted by unknown enemies, I'm surprised to find I wouldn't want it any other way.

CHAPTER FIVE

Imani

I wake to the sound of engines—multiple vehicles, moving fast, getting closer.

The digital clock on the nightstand reads 4:47 AM, and pale light seeps through the gap in the curtains.

Dawn is starting to break, but we're not alone.

Brick is already moving beside me, instantly alert even though we were both in deep sleep moments before.

His hand finds his weapon on the nightstand as he rolls toward the window, careful not to aggravate his injury.

"How many?" I whisper, reaching for my own gun.

He peers through the gap in the curtains, his expression grim. "Three SUVs. Same as before." He turns to me, his amber eyes hard. "They found us."

My mind races through everything.

How did they track us to this small town?

We've been careful, used cash, avoided main roads. Unless...

"The motel clerk," I say, the realization catching me off guard. "He must have called it in after we left for dinner. Probably has a standing offer to report strangers."

Brick nods, already pulling on his jeans. "We've got maybe two minutes before they have the place surrounded."

I'm out of bed, grabbing clothes like my life depends on it, because it does. Growing up in the cartel world means you learn to dress quickly when danger comes calling.

Jeans, boots, jacket—all while keeping my weapon within reach.

"Back window?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"Too small, and it faces the parking lot anyway." Brick shrugs into his shirt, wincing as the movement pulls at his stitches. "We go out the front, bold as brass. They'll expect us to run or hide."

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