Page 102 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

“Where the fuck is she going?” Dean questions.

“I’ve got no fucking clue,” I say, just relieved to have her currently out of the line of fire.

Both Hunter and I spring back into the raging storm ahead, taking out men by the handful. Marcus and Dean seem to hang back, out of their element, but not afraid to get their hands dirty.

Bodies drop one by one when that little spitfire soars back out of the bar, her hands filled with weapons. She tosses guns and ammo toward Marcus and Dean, who both look at her like she’s a complete stranger. But all I can focus on is the semi-automatic rifle hanging over her shoulder.

It’s too dark to make out the exact make and model of the gun in the neon-flickering street, but judging by the sheer amount of ammo she wears, I don’t doubt that’s one hell of a serious gun. Lyra didn’t come to fuck around. She means business. The only question is, where the fuck was she hiding all that? I’ve searched that bar a time or two, trying to discover just how she was pulling off her little red-haired assassin act, and so far, I’ve got nothing.

Lyra sets herself up, using the hood of a parked car to stabilize the gun, and not a second later, the shots start ringing out.

She takes out ten men in a matter of seconds, and that quickly turns into fifteen, thinning their numbers dramatically until there’s only a handful of DeLuca’s men left.

As more men fly toward us, sirens in the distance begin closing in. Hunter glances back at Lyra again. “Time to go, Savage.”

“No.”

“The police are coming.”

“I don’t care. If you’re going down, then I’m going down with you.”

Hunter sighs and glances at me. “Get her out of here,” he tells me, “I can handle the rest.”

I clench my jaw, taking stock of the few remaining men, and realizing he’s right. I don’t like it, but it doesn’t change the facts. The cops are closing in soon, and I don’t want Lyra ending up in cuffs. Hell, I don’t want anybody in cuffs, but she’s the one that matters most. Hunter and I have seen our fair share of handcuffs and holding cells, but we’re always able to skirt around charges in the end. Lyra has too much to lose, and if she’s going to stand a chance at feigning innocence in all this, then she needs to not be anywhere near here when the cops come screeching in.

“Fuck.”

I glance toward her, and she sees the decision in my eyes before I can say a single word.

“Maddox.”

“He’s right. We have to go.”

“No.”

“Now, Savage,” I say, moving toward her.

She looks at me as though I’m about to be her next target, when she falters, her concerned gaze shifts back to Hunter. “He’ll be okay, Lyra. He can handle himself.”

She visibly swallows before catching Hunter’s stare. “If you get hurt, I’m going to kill you myself.”

He winks, and her whole body practically melts. “I can handle myself, baby. Now, go.”

Hesitation flickers in her stare once again, and I step into her, catching her arm and pulling her away. She pauses and looks between Marcus and Dean. “Get out of here,” she says. “Believe me, this is one fight you don’t want to get yourselves caught up in.”

Dean just shakes his head. “As long as Danielle is still inside that bar, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Marcus grunts. “My wife would kill me if she found out I bailed at the last moment. We’ve got your bar and your man. Go. We’ll be alright.”

She nods and allows me to pull her away, our feet slamming against the wet pavement as we race toward my bike, leaving the chaos behind. Hunter doesn’t wait, throwing himself back into the bloodshed, and while every step away feels wrong, my only priority is getting Lyra away from here.

She looks back over her shoulder, watching Hunter as we run, and I practically have to drag her across the pavement, but in a flat second, I’m blindsided. Something slams into me from the side, the impact throwing me off balance.

A fist catches my jaw, then another, and I blindly swing back as the world blurs around me. I finally catch my footing, finding two of DeLuca’s men. One pulls a knife, and I yank him into me before snapping his elbow and gutting him with his own blade. My head snaps up at the sound of my bike roaring to life in the distance, but another fist catches the side of my face.

The screech of tires against pavement carries over the chaos, and I look up just in time to see Lyra barreling toward us on my bike.

She hits the brake, letting the back of the bike swing out on the wet pavement, fishtailing around before smashing right into the last of DeLuca’s men, crushing his hips beneath the impact.