Page 124 of Forbidden Romeo

I take the opportunity to grab my phone and key in an emergency SOS. If we’re lucky, there will be aDead Eyepatrol running nearby. But I’m not holding my breath. There are still the three men who wereherdingus down the alley behind, and they’re getting closer every second.

Bang.My shot goes wide.

Aimee notices what I’m doing and begins firing on the men behind us as well.

Ignoring the barrage of automatic fire, I take down one, then another. Aimee takes down the third just as my gun clicks empty. Shit.

The downed men are too far away for us to grab their guns.

Aimee looks over at me with wide eyes. The danger behind us might be dealt with, but she must be low on bullets, too, and we’ve not even started picking off the men in front. She nods toward better cover just in front of her, big enough for us both to hunker down.

It’s better than nothing. Aimee stands up quickly, her aim deadly as she strides forward, and I take the cover to run toward the spot.

Men crumple with every step—dead, wounded, I don’t care as long as they’re not an immediate threat.

Bang.

“Fuck!”

Only a meter in front of me, I watch helplessly as Aimee slumps to the ground.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jack

The roar that erupts from my lips doesn’t sound human.

I don’t give anyone time to react. I reach for her and drag her behind cover in half a second.

“Aimee!”

She blinks up at me, clutching her arm to her chest.

“They shot me,” she whispers, her face pale as she looks down at herself.

“It’s going to be okay.” I’m babbling now, touching her face, her beautiful auburn hair. “You’re going to be okay.”

She groans as she sits herself up, and for the first time, I see the blood oozing out her arm. “I need a tourniquet,” she says, wincing.

I immediately tear off a strip of my shirt, wrapping it around the top of her bicep as tightly as I can. When I’m satisfied, I remove what’s left of my shirt and press it against the bleeding gash.

“Hold that there, all right?” I say gently, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

When I pull away, she’s rolling her eyes. “I’m not dying on you.”

“How many bullets do you have left?” I say, distracting myself from the very idea. That was too close.

“Three,” she hisses on an out-breath.

I grab her gun from the floor and test the weight in my hand, “You keep talking to me, okay?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Aimee.”

“Fine!”

I glance around our cover and aim at one of the men holding the automatic.

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