Page 80 of Flame
“Like he was so great, huh?” Rafe takes a step forward, still training the gun over his uncle’s back—but his grip seems steadier. Determined. “I spent my life thinking I had to make up for his mistakes—but that was my real ‘failure.’ Thinking I owed your ass anything. You don’t give a fuck about him, and you certainly don’t give a fuck about me.”
The other man whirls around, his face reddening with fury. “You think you have what it takes, Rafael? Do it then. Shoot me. Do it!” He holds out his arms, his smile feral.
Rafe doesn’t move an inch, but I can feel his anger from here, radiating off him like a furnace. His eyes blaze with an intensity to match the creature inked on his back. When his fingers twitch, I step forward. “Don’t—”
“Hannah!” Branden grabs my arm, yanking me back, but Rafe’s eyes flicker in our direction. I swear I see him nod once—I’m okay.
But Shen just laughs. “You can’t even betray me right,” he declares, turning for the door again. “I… What the fuck?”
His gaze is directed at something beyond the doorway, but what has him so startled quickly becomes apparent. Footsteps—belonging to several people, racing in our direction all at once.
Loud, a voice rings out, stern with authority. “FBI! Hands in the air!”
I comply automatically, backing up against the far wall as several figures stream into the space. From their posture alone—and the navy jackets with a blazing emblem emblazoned on the front—their identities are obvious—FBI agents.
A slim figure I recognize as Liam spearheads the group, his focus purely on Shen.
“Lee Wei-Shen,” he declares. “You’re under arrest for suspicion of blackmail, extortion, and conspiracy to commit murder. You have the right to…”
My own thudding heartbeat drowns him out, surging through my ears as I watch two agents wrestle Branden to the ground. One of them pulls out a pair of handcuffs, applying them swiftly.
“Don’t look,” someone warns near my ear, his voice soft. Before I know it, Rafe is blocking my view, his hands on my waist as my cheek settles against his chest. “Just hold on to me.”
And I do, gripping him so tightly my fingers ache. Adrenaline leaves me in a rush, and I’m forced to cling to him, trusting him to support my weight, which he does without a shred of hesitation.
I eye him through my lashes and wince in sympathy. He looks worse than ever, his bruising apparent even in the dim lighting. Carefully I stroke my fingers over the unmarred skin along his jaw, letting the sight distract me from everything else.
And somehow…
It does.
