Page 24 of Hunted

At my apartment. Mike’s here. Help.

Clint’s brain immediately switched into crisis-mode, the same way it did when a mission went to hell back in the SEALs. His emotions switched off and he ran like a machine on pure adrenaline, all thoughts distilled down to clear directives. Get to Leila. Get her and Thomas safe. Get that bastard behind bars again where he belonged.

As he peeled out of his driveway and headed toward Leila’s address, he put in a call to 911 telling them the situation while taking the backroads to avoid traffic. He arrived at the complex ahead of the cops and was out of his truck with his weapon drawn, about to walk up to Leila’s door, when he heard the shouts coming from inside.

“Stop this, Mike!” Leila’s voice was firm and strong. “I’m not your property. You don’t own me. And you sure as hell don’t own our son.”

“You’re mine, bitch,” Mike’s angry voice responded. “The minute you said ‘I do,’ I put my mark on you. You either return to me, or I’ll make sure you never belong to anyone else again. That includes your pretty-boy protector. I’ll skin him alive if I ever see him again.”

Clint swallowed hard, his mouth desert dry. He wasn’t scared for himself, but he was terrified for her and Thomas. He clicked the safety off of his weapon and kept his back pressed to the brick wall beside the entrance to Leila’s apartment to conceal himself as best he could until he was ready to make his move. He needed to know where Leila and Thomas were so he could ensure they didn’t get caught in the crossfire.

A sinistersnickechoed near his ear and Clint froze. Son of a bitch. He’d been so focused on what was going on inside that he’d forgotten to keep track of his own surroundings. He raised both hands slightly, to show he wasn’t a threat as the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his head, right behind his ear.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing, eh?” a man growled. Clint glanced back over his shoulder to see the guy. No one he recognized, but those tats marked him as part of the same gang as Mike. “Put the gun down, asshole, and step back.”

He did as the dude asked, going as slowly as possible to give the cops time to arrive. The man shoved Clint back, then picked up the gun and tossed it out of sight, behind some overgrown bushes. Clint waited, pretending to play along while looking for his opportunity to take this guy out. No way was a cocky gang banger taking him down.

“Okay, fucker.” The guy said, forcing Clint around to face him then placing the barrel of his gun directly between his eyes. “Time to die.”

No, time to act.

A sudden crash sounded from the apartment. That, along with the sirens wailing in the distance, gave Clint the distraction he needed to make his move. He grabbed the guy’s wrist and twisted downward until he heard a satisfying snap. With a howl, the guy released the weapon, and Clint kicked it away. Within seconds, he’d kneed the bastard in the groin and elbowed him in the nose before securing both arms behind the gang member’s back. He smashed the guy’s cheek against the brick wall of Leila’s apartment building.

“Any more of you assholes out here?” Clint asked the guy, putting more pressure on his injured wrist to get him to talk. “Tell me!”

“Just me,” the guy finally growled. “Get the fuck off me! You broke my goddamn wrist. My nose, too.”

Clint used one of the zip ties to fasten the guy’s wrists together, then tossed him aside, leaving him for the police to deal with. He thought about trying to find his Sig but decided that getting to Leila as fast as he could took priority. He charged for her apartment. One threat neutralized, one to go.

Through the smashed open door, he spotted Leila huddled in a corner as Mike brandished a pistol in her face. The place had been trashed and Mike was still ranting about all the injustices done to him, but Clint only cared about Leila. He didn’t take the time to be cautious. He needed to get Mike’s attention away from her,immediately.

He entered loudly, knowing that Mike would spin around to face him, which was exactly what he wanted. He almost smiled when Mike turned his weapon at him.

“I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Don’t touch my wife,” Mike shouted.

Clint stilled, doing his best to keep his anger under control. He had to play this right, keep Mike focused on him andnoton Laila until the cops arrived. Teeth gritted, Clint snarled at the guy. “She’s not your wife. And maybe if you treated her like the queen she is when you had the chance, she never would’ve left you. How about we settle this man to man? Or are you going to hide behind a woman?”

“Fuck you!” He cocked the weapon and pointed the barrel between Clint’s eyes. “She’s mine. She belongs to me. My wife. My kid. None of your goddamned business. Understand? And I don’t hide behind anybody. You best say your prayers cause you’re about to die, motherf?—”

Time seemed to slow as Clint’s mind raced through the possible scenarios. He could charge the guy and tackle him, but with a loaded gun in the mix there was no telling where the bullet would strike. No. He couldn’t take that chance with Leila in the room and Thomas probably no more than a wall away. He could dodge to the side, but that was still taking the chance of a wild shot.

As the sound of sirens outside grew louder, closer, Clint watched the desperation rise in Mike’s eyes and figured that distraction might work. Keep the guy talking until his route of escape was gone. But that might only make things worse. He’d bet that Mike would do anything to not go back to prison. He’d probably prefer death by shootout over a future behind bars.

“Whoa,” Clint said, holding his hands up in the air. “Calm down, okay? Let’s talk about this and no one needs to die tonight. Or go to prison.”

From behind a closed door, he could hear Thomas calling for his mother, his cries getting louder and louder. The sound seemed to put Mike even more on edge. “I’m sick of talking.” Mike scowled at Clint. “No one fucking listens anyway. Get on your knees, asshole.”

Clint did as he asked, looking for a way out of this mess that wouldn’t involve the risk of causalities, other than Mike. From the periphery of his vision, he saw Leila inch slowly toward the corner where her purse sat. What the hell was she doing? She was moving in the opposite direction of Thomas’s room. Was she trying to draw attention away from her son?

Mike noticed the movement and snapped his attention back to Leila. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. You think I’m fucking stupid or something, bitch?”

She froze in place, defiance sparking in her dark eyes though she didn’t respond. Mike swiveled back to Clint. “Hope you enjoyed your taste of my wife, asshole, cause she’s the last woman you’ll ever have. Gonna have to beat her good for steppin’ out on me too. Maybe I’ll kick your ass too, just for the hell of it. Then I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

Clint fisted his hands at his sides and glared up at Mike, ready to unleash a whole can of whoop-ass on this ignorant son of a bitch. Threatening him was one thing. Threatening the woman Clint loved and her child was another. No one would hurt Leila. An icy calm descended over Clint’s mind, the same one that hit before each battle he’d fought overseas. One of them was going down and Clint was damned sure it wasn’t going to be him.

He kept his gaze locked with Mike’s even as he prepared to lunge forward, planning to go for the guy’s ankles, hoping to sweep his feet out from under him and knock him to the floor. “Get out of the way, Leila!” he called in warning, praying she’d take cover before the bullets started flying.

“No.” The sound of a round being chambered echoed loudly, and Clint’s heart stumbled. “Youget out of the way, Clint,” she said. “This is my fight to settle.”

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