Page 56 of Unloaded
Suddenly a blindinglight pierces the darkness. My left arm comes up to shield my eyes as I point the gun in my right hand blindly at whoever is at the door.
“Angel! It’s me!” Rosco calls out, seconds before I’m about to pull the trigger and ask questions later.
Then I’m in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably with relief.
“Shh, baby, you’re safe. You’re all right.” His placating words flip my switch from terrified-relief to pissed off in a nanosecond. I shove him hard, causing us to tumble out of the small space and into the closet.
“You fucking ASSHOLE!” I screech, shoving him again. I begin to wail on him, not that I am able to land a direct hit. His arm flies up to block my assault. “How dare you do that to me?” I yell, still trying to whack him unsuccessfully.
“YOU LEFT ME! LEFT ME! In the dark, not knowing if you had been murdered or not! I’m so fucking pissed at you right now!”
We wrestle briefly, but it doesn’t take him long to get hold of my wrists, wrapping my arms over my chest from behind, while pulling my back to his chest. I’m panting both from the remnants of my panic attack, my anger, and trying to take his head off.
“That’s enough, angel,” he scolds. “I was only protecting you.” I huff in anger, ready to rip into him again when I hear chuckles from the bedroom. It seems we have an audience. “Are you hurt? How are your hands?”
“Don’t try to distract me.” I glare at him. “I’m still angry with you.” Rosco’s hold on me loosens. He spins me on his lap. His hands ghosting over my body, checking for injuries. I suck in a breath when I notice blood on his shirt.
“You’re bleeding!” He pauses his assessment to meet my gaze.
“I’m fine, angel. It’s just a scratch.” I begin to shake violently, nausea hitting me. He might only have a scratch, but I know what made the wound. A bullet. One that could’ve taken him from me.
“Shh,” he coos, “you’re okay. I’m okay.” He holds me tightly. “I need a blanket,” he calls to someone over his shoulder.
“Here,” Bo says, coming into the closet with us and wrapping a blanket around my back. Rosco lifts first one arm then the other, to secure the blanket around me. It takes several minutes for the violent shaking to stop, and through it all, I manage to not barf all over Rosco. Patiently he holds me until I’m calm.
“Uh, Rosco?” Bo pokes his head back in the closet. “We have a problem.” He glances at me with an unreadable expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my panic returning in full force. I know what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth.
“The twins are gone. Jason’s house was hit while we were defending here.”
“NO!” Blind terror hits me. He has them. Reginald has the twins.
25
ROSCO
Fuck!The twins are gone, and Rachel is going to lose it. She scrambles off my lap, shoving Bo and Dalton out of her way as she goes.
“We have to find them! Where were they last seen?” Rachel demands, her fear so palpable I can taste it. “Don’t just stand there! Tell me something!”
Bo and Dalton look between them and back to Rachel. I can tell there’s more to this situation, but they don’t want to tell her. They’d rather tell me everything and let me handle what to tell her and what to keep back until we know more.
“Rachel calm down,” I begin in what I hope is a soothing tone. “Let’s get to Luke’s where it’ll be safer, then we can get all the details.” Her face morphs from fear to shock to rage in the blink of an eye.
“No!” she declares with venom in her voice. “You don’t know what that man is capable of. They aren’t your brothers, your family! I have to get them back. I won’t allow him to turn them into the monster he is. I won’t!”
I take a step toward her, but she turns away from me with a look of betrayal on her face. Bo and Enos are blocking her exitfrom my room, so she flees into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Well, that went well,” Enos says from behind Bo’s left shoulder. I glare at him. I’m in no mood to deal with his shit today. I need to find the boys and get Rachel to a safe location.
“What do we know?” I ask the room at large. I’d been so focused on eradicating the threat to Rachel—and once it had been eliminated, I’d needed to see her, to assure myself she was unharmed—I hadn’t taken time to debrief with the others and find out details.
“Matthew just called and reported they were hit right after shit started happening here,” Kelvin reports. “Jason was shot, but it’s a minor injury. It was a through and through with no major organs involved. One of our medics is stitching him up right now.” I nod, thankful he wasn’t killed.
“Matt said armed men stormed the front and back of the house,” Kelvin continues. “They went straight for the boys, who fought like hell by the way,” a hint of pride sounding in his voice. “They bound them and dragged them out of the house. They fled the scene in a black Ford four door sedan, no plates.”
“Fuck!” I mutter. “Get on the traffic cameras in the area and see if you can track them.” Kelvin lowers his brows in a scowl.
