Wait. Do IhopeI end up with Connor?
 
 I keep the briefcase solid in my grip as I fumble with my phone to get a car to pick me up. I just want my weapons back in my apartment where they belong until I suit up again to take another chance at killing Connor.
 
 I keep my head low, careful not to draw attention to my weapons. But my scattered thoughts send me a few blocks from Rhys’s building in the wrong direction. I look up at the street sign and gulp, realizing I’m in a dangerous neighborhood where I need a man like Rhys Quinlan protecting me.
 
 Every other person looks shady, and I don’t dare ask anyone where the nearest Starbucks is. I just need somewhere to hide while waiting for car service. Not that I think a car will come getme anytime soon.
 
 Head buried in my phone, some asshole shoulder-checks me from out of nowhere. It happens so fast. A sharp whack of pain, and next, the briefcase is ripped from my hand.
 
 Son of a bitch.
 
 I whip around just in time to see a lanky guy in a cap and hoodie racing down the alley, Rhys’s briefcase swinging from one scrawny arm. I don’t think. Irun.
 
 This guy is fast with those long legs, but I’m faster with my muscular thighs. Plus, I’m no longer lugging around an extra twenty pounds. My boots pound the pavement as adrenaline pumps hot through my veins.
 
 Another guy runs alongside the one who jabbed my shoulder. I run faster and follow them by skidding a hard left into a narrow alley. I round the bend and pull up short.
 
 Shit.
 
 The two guys stand there, glaring at me. No longer on the defense, they take a step to strike. Figuring I can’t fight them both without any weapons, I back up.
 
 The one who grabbed the briefcase is grinning, tossing it between his hands like a football.
 
 “Nice haul, sweetheart,” he sneers. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be carrying valuables around here.”
 
 “No shit, asshole,” I crack back at him, even though I’m shaking.
 
 “Dumb bitch.” His buddy grabs the case and starts playing with the clips to open it. “Fuck. What’s the combo?”
 
 “I don’t have the combination, fuckface.” I roll my shoulders back. “I’m just a courier. The mob boss who that belongs to has me wired up. He will find you and skin you both alive.”
 
 “Mob boss.” The guy goes to unzip his pants. “Do you know what I can do to a mob boss’s pretty bitch with afresh mouth?”
 
 “Disappoint her with your small cock?” I fold my arms, buying myself time to figure a way out of here.
 
 His friend laughs.
 
 Maybe I scored some points, but my Sig inside that case is registered to me. They will eventually break into the briefcase and go on a murdering spree. Between the gun and knives that can also be tied to me through purchase records, I’ll be arrested within twenty-four hours.
 
 Mentally cataloging their faces for when the cops pick me up, I take a step back to run. I’m sure these morons are in the system.
 
 But the first guy lunges at me. A fist slams into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I stagger back, gasping. He grabs my arm and wrenches it. A shot of white-hot pain rips through my shoulder.
 
 I scream and collapse against the brick wall, clutching my arm. Fuck, it’s dislocated. I know that pain too well. My body locks up, my nerves screaming, my teeth chattering.
 
 Some jerks see that a woman is hurt, and they move on. But a wounded gazelle is more fun to these pricks. They close in on me, and I grit my teeth, trying to stand up.
 
 Focusing, I fight through the agony. I open my mouth to lay some blood-curdling decibels on these motherfuckers, but then everything shifts.
 
 “You fucked with the wrong lass.” A force of muscle and violence explodes out of nowhere, moving with terrifying precision and merciless intent.
 
 Connor.
 
 He must have followed me to Rhys’s like a predator.
 
 I hear brutal cracks, grunts, and curses. The guy holding the briefcase drops like a dead weight. The otherguy barely has time to turn before a fist collides with his temple. He stumbles back, reaching for something in his jacket, but a gun is already pressed against his throat.
 
 “Say your prayers quickly, mate,” Connor says, his accent thicker than I’ve ever heard. “I hope you two like sucking each other’s dicks, you’ll be spending eternity together in hell.”