Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
“Didn’t we just do this last week,” he muttered with exhaustion as the big fella took off at a run.
And jumped up onto the top of the mega-trashbin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
As the shooting intensified down below, Lyric tried to count the bullet discharges, but why bother? She didn’t know who was pulling what trigger—and it wasn’t like she knew how many bullets were in a magazine, anyway. What she was sure of was that beneath her, the pump of Dev’s breath was slow and steady, and the warmth from his body was spreading into her own in spite of the cold—and all her fear.
What if her brother or the other two were killed? Injured seriously? Captured? It would be all her fault. She’d sent her brother and—
“Come on,” Dev said urgently.
Except then her hearing registered a change in the noise chaos. Still distant shouting and all kinds of sirens, but a pause in the shooting.
“Inside,” he ordered as he shuffled them upright. “While we can—”
She raced right back for where they’d been standing. Except just as she got to the ledge, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her around.
“Are you crazy?” He started to carry her off. “That’s a full-blown turf war out there—”
As if to prove his point, there was an abrupt flash of light down below that was so great, it lit up everything behind the building—and then there was a series of loud booms, like someone had upgraded their weapon, big-time. Wrenching around in his hold, she caught a glimpse of a showdown at the far side of the parking area.
The crashed car. Cops getting closer. A couple of figures, not that she could make them out—
Her view was cut off, and the next thing she knew, she was in a stairway, with Dev closing the door and leaning back against it.
He was breathing hard. So was she.
Outside, the fighting sounds dimmed, and not just because they’d found a little shelter. She could tell the battle was moving away, going to the west, toward the river.
“Fun, fun,” he muttered as he took out a pack of cigarettes.
He shook out one of them, put it in his mouth, and flicked a Bic. Just as he was touching the flame to the tip, he did a double take.
“Sorry.” He frowned. “You mind if I smoke this?”
She had so many bigger problems than that. “No.”
Pushing her hair out of her face, she fumbled for her phone. But like she could ring her brother? Like he could answer?
“The cops are already here,” he said on the exhale. “Who are you calling?”
She looked down at the cell. “I… don’t know.”
And if she reached out to the Brotherhood? How was she going to explain how she knew what was happening? Besides, it was protocol, asking for backup—she’d overheard her brother talking about it loads of times. One of them, down there, for sure already had.
“I have to go,” she blurted.
This was a total fucking mess.
“What about your scarf?”
“Huh?” She glanced up at him blankly. “Oh, yes. Right—”
Her phone went off and she ripped it up to her ear. “Oh, thank God, Rhamp—where are you? Are you okay?”
There was a loud rushing noise coming over the connection, like the wind was swirling around him, but her brother’s voice came through loud and clear: “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m—” She glanced at Dev. He was taking a draw on the cigarette and regarding her with a remote look. “Are you okay?”
“Where the fuck—”
“You’re okay, though?”
“I’m on the roof of a fucking apartment building, the one that I’m pretty fucking sure you whistled down from.”
She looked to the door, focusing on it over Dev’s shoulder. “What about the others?” she said tightly.
“Where are you.”
Dev’s eyes met her own, and he continued to be totally calm. To the point where she wondered what kind of life he led. It didn’t take a genius to catch the drift of the one side of the conversation he was hearing, and yet there was no shock on his face.
“I’m safe,” she said quietly. “I’ll be home soon.”
“You were supposed to be home now—”
She hung up the phone. Put it back in her pocket. “Let’s go get my scarf.”
Taking his hand, Lyric made quick work of the descent, and dragged him behind herself. At the bottom of the shallow steps, she pushed through a door, and then continued piloting them down the open stairwell. When she got to the landing with the little “4th Floor” sign next to it, she hit the hallway and beelined for Dev’s apartment.
Even though she had no right, she let herself in—and didn’t need to mentally spring the lock because of course he hadn’t thrown the bolt. After she closed them in together, a quick glance confirmed the blackout drapes were still closed, and—
Her eyes shot to his messy bed. Then she breathed in deeply through her nose. The scent in the studio was intoxicating, the tips of her fangs tingling in response.