Page 76 of Worth

I groan into his mouth, the fresh minty taste of toothpaste still on his breath, and his tongue pushes between my lips. The bat falls to the floor as I reach for his neck, pulling him tighter into me, our tongues flicking together.

A presence fits itself along my back and I gasp, jerking back into Aiden’s chest. Turning my head, Aiden gives me a sweet, slow kiss while Zander’s hand stays in place. Pinned between the two of them, I can almost forget that we just had a massive battle in the house, especially when Aiden’s hands wander to cup my breasts through the shirt.

Zander yanks at me by my throat enough to stop mine and Aiden’s kiss. “Go get dressed,” he orders, his voice husky. He must see the look of defiance and need trying to dominate me because he spins me around and gives a light smack on my ass. “Go. Get. Dressed.”

“Fine,” I grumble, picking up the bat. I hop over Camo Man and head up the stairs two at a time, knowing that with every bounce, the shirt is showing my ass to the two men below.

As soon as I realized that the attack was not being executed by the government, but by private militia, I knew they were here for Blake. Somehow, someway, someone figured out where she was.

I couldn’t put it together. I knew none of our associates would rat her out—they’d be ratting out themselves. How in the fuck had they found her?

Blake runs up the stairs, flashing her round ass at us as she goes. Aiden watches her like a dying man who just spotted an oasis and then grumbles as he stomps away, hopefully to go get us more ammo.

I go to the man in camouflage at the foot of the stairs and flip him over, wincing at the grisly discovery of his impaled face. I check his pockets, but they’re empty. I’m not surprised. Private forces are usually ghosts to ensure the anonymity of the client.

I would say this was Damien, but it’s too extravagant, even for him. This is cocky and cost more than a pretty penny. Besides, I can’t see Damien putting this much effort in right now. He’s been preoccupied since his daughter went missing a few days ago.

A rock settles in my gut as I realize who is probably behind this attack.

Stephen Fucking Vetella.

“Here, Z,” Aiden says, returning. He holds out four clips for me.

“They’re after her.” I take the clips, pocketing two and exchanging the others with the empty clips in my pistols. “You know that?”

He nods, expression growing serious. “I think so too. We’re not going to let them, right? We’ll keep her safe.”

I hesitate long enough to earn myself a scowl. “Aiden, if this is Vetella, he’s not going to stop until he gets her.”

“Then we keep fighting until we kill his disgusting ass,” Aiden hisses. “How can you even think about giving her up?”

“I’mnot,” I argue. “But we have to look at this logically. We need a plan that doesn’t include fighting wave after wave of soldiers sent specifically to extract her. We’ll end up dead and she’ll end up in his hands, anyway.”

He plants his hands on my chest and shoves, making me take a few steps back. “We can protect her,” he seethes.

“For now,” I answer. “How long until wecan’t? Aiden, they’ll be sending in fresh people and by the time we hit days of fighting, we’ll be easy pickings. We need another plan.”

The desperation in his eyes tells me he knows I’m right, and he looks around like the answer will be standing next to him. “Claire!” he blurts out. “If we can sneak Kitten to her, they can lie low while we figure out what to do next.”

It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard, but I’m not sure Claire will want to stick her neck out if Vetella is involved. “Call her. Find out if she will take Blake.”

We both freeze as broken glass is shuffled around in the kitchen, immediately raising our guns, fingers poised over the triggers.

Silently, we move. Aiden backs himself into the wall. His breathing is slow and steady. He grins at me when he catches me watching him as I creep forward. Being sure to stay hidden, I chance a peek into the kitchen from around the corner, over the breakfast bar. Sure as shit, three soldiers are tiptoeing through the mess, heading our way.

Shots ring out as one fires, just missing me as I duck back behind the wall.

Fuck. These ones have automatics.

I take a steadying breath as their footsteps pick up, abandoning the attempt to be quiet, and flip around to fire at them with both pistols.

They scatter, their weapons spraying bullets, and I dive across the opening of the kitchen, taking cover behind the other wall. When I do, Aiden takes my place, both of us ducking as chips of plaster and countertop granite fly around.

The shots cease and, the second they do, Aiden and I open fire together, shooting off as many rounds as we can before it’s being returned at twice the rate we could hope to get.

“Itoldyou we needed those machine guns,” Aiden grunts as we take cover.

“Shut the fuck up,” I retort, exchanging my empty clips for full ones. I’m out of ammo after this.

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