Cross the Line (Boston Love Story #2) (29 page)

His lips twitch. “We’ve been over this. It’s not a lair.”

“Uh huh.” I sling the strap of my duffle over one shoulder. Boo’s leash is tight in my other hand. “Have demon-dog, will travel.”

He takes a step closer, eyes warm on Boo. “I admit, I’ll miss the little rascal.”

“Just him?”

His eyes flash up to mine. “And you.”

“Good answer,” I murmur, smiling as I lean into his chest and brush my lips against his.

“Almost forgot,” he says, pulling away. He reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a pendant. It’s shaped like a sun and looks almost exactly like the one Cormack took from me – the twin of Gemma’s – except a fraction larger and silver rather than gold. “This is for you. Happy birthday, Phoebe.”

My breath catches in my throat as he moves behind me and slips it around my neck. His body presses into mine as his large fingers fumble with the clasp.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“I know
you
. I know how important that necklace was. So, I had another made specially for you.”

“Nate…” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what to say.”

He pulls my hair up, drops a kiss on the nape of my neck, and squeezes my shoulders. “Don’t say anything. Just keep it close to your heart until I see you again. And remember I love you, little bird. Forever.”

There are still people out there who use

actual
coins
to pay at the tollbooth.

What is this, the Dark Ages?

Phoebe West, feeling grumpier than

usual during Boston rush hour.

“This doesn’t feel right.”

The words are hushed as they leave Nate’s mouth. We’re walking across the tarmac toward the WestTech jet at a private airfield just north of the city. There’s a hangar to either side, a small control tower in the distance, and a short runway strip about the length of two football fields stretching in front of us. 

Someone’s pulled the jet from its hangar onto the tarmac but as we get closer, there’s no mechanical hum in the air — the engines are off. The runway lights haven’t been illuminated. The hangar doors yawn open in the early morning light. It’s completely deserted. Not a single soul in sight.

Our steps slow as the men switch into high-alert mode.

Parker and Theo — a muscular giant with floppy black hair, gorgeous caramel skin, and some seriously beautiful green eyes — met us in the parking lot behind the hangar. Theo is one of Nate’s “men” and between him and Alden, the buzz-cut cutie I met two days ago, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some kind of stipulation in the Knox Investigations contract that says you have to be ridiculously good looking as well as badass to work there.

Macho men less than a 9.5 on the hotness Richter scale need not apply.

Theo shot me a dimpled grin when he caught me staring at him, but otherwise hasn’t said much of anything since they arrived.

I walk between the three of them like I’m Taylor Swift surrounded by hulking bodyguards, clutching Boo to my chest like a stuffed teddy bear. For once, he doesn’t fight my hold. We’re almost at the jet when things get tense.

“Where’s the crew? The pilot?” Parker’s eyes narrow as they sweep the abandoned airstrip. “They should be here, by now.”

Theo grunts in agreement.

Great. Another monosyllabic caveman. Just what I need in my life.

Nate stops, listening intently. Something dark flashes in his eyes and then he launches into motion, shoving me to the ground and yelling, “Down!” a second before the first shots ring out.

Shots.

From a gun.

Because someone is shooting at us.

What the hell is going on in my life?!

My duffle goes flying as his body lands on mine, covering me like a human shield. Boo lets out a yap of displeasure as I squish him against my chest, fear pounding through my veins like a drug. We half-run, half-crawl behind the jet for cover, flattening our bodies against the tarmac to stay out of range.

I hear a groan of pain, followed by the thud of a body landing beside me.

“Christ,” a familiar voice grits out. “The fuckers
shot
me!”

Parker
.

“Parker!” I scream, but the sound is swallowed up by the sharp rapport of a gun firing less than a foot from my ear. Nate’s pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and is returning fire beneath the wheels of the jet. I try to turn my head to see if Parker’s hurt, but I’m pinned too tight against the earth by the weight of Nate’s body. I feel him shift on top of me as he repositions his gun.

“On your left!” His voice is gruff as he fires off another shot. “They’re in the hangar!”

I hear the sound of bullets pinging off the jet’s metal panels overhead.

“How many?” Theo yells back.

“Four, maybe five.”

Theo grunts. “Too many.”

There’s a brief pause as whoever’s shooting at us stops to reload. I don’t have time to be relieved, because Nate’s mouth is on my ear and he’s speaking rapidly.

“You remember what I taught you? How to use that gun?”

“Yes,” I squeak, recalling my abysmal target practice.

His hand finds mine and he presses something cold and metallic into my grip. “Take it. It’s already loaded. Use it if you need it.”

“But what if you need—”

“I have a spare. In a second, Theo and I are going to give you some covering fire. You and Parker are going to run for the car and get the fuck out of here.”

“What about you?” My voice shakes with fear.

“I’ll be fine. I’m right behind you.” He ducks closer when shots ring out again in our direction. “Parker? Still with us?”

“I’m here.” He wheezes out the words. Just hearing the pain in my brother’s voice makes me cringe.

“You got the car keys?”

“In my back pocket.”

“You gonna be able to run?”

There’s a pause. “Have you seen this body?” He forces out a pained laugh. “I’m a cheetah. An Olympian. Even with a bullet in my shoulder.”

I’d roll my eyes at his ridiculous comments if I weren’t so scared.

“On three,” Nate orders. I hear the sound of a fresh clip being shoved into his gun.

“Wait!” I hiss.

He pauses.

“I love you,” I say, not caring who hears me. “I love you, Nate.”

“Love you too, little bird.” His voice is thick. “You ready?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“One.”

I hear the click of the chamber cocking back.  

“Two.”

I feel shift of his body as it eases off mine.

“Three.”

I hear the sound of his gun firing in tandem with Theo’s, followed by distant cursing as the men in the hangar duck for cover.

“Go!” Nate hisses between clenched teeth.

And then I’m up, Boo crushed against my chest with one hand, the gun tight in my other. My ears are still ringing from the gunfire and with each step across the thirty feet of tarmac, I’m expecting a bullet to tear into me. Thankfully, Nate and Theo seem to be holding them off.

For now.

I don’t let myself think about what’ll happen when they run out of ammo. I don’t let myself look back at the man I love, lying on an airstrip in a firefight with hardened criminals.

He’ll be okay. He has to be okay.

Parker’s right beside me, matching my strides and shielding me as best he can, even though he must be in excruciating pain. I dart a glance at him and see his face is pale, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, his dark blond locks damp with perspiration.

There’s a cramp knifing through my side. I ignore it and push faster, stilettos pounding against the concrete.

“You all right?” I gasp out as we careen past our abandoned luggage.

Halfway there.

“Just… dandy…” he wheezes back.

We reach the parking lot and race for the SUV.

“I’m driving,” I hiss.

“Shotgun,” he jokes through the pain, hitting the unlock button and heading for the passenger side. I hear his door slam shut as I round the back of the car at full speed, mind totally occupied by thoughts of escape. I’m so focused on getting out of here, I nearly smash straight into someone.

No, not
someone
.

Padraic.

AKA Petey.

AKA a one of Mac’s boys, intent on revenge.

Crap on asiago focaccia.

***

I drop Boo almost as a reflex, both hands lifting to wrap around the gun. I aim it at Petey, wishing my arms weren’t shaking so much.

He smiles darkly when he sees the gun bouncing.

“Scared?” He smirks as he takes a step toward me. “You should be. I’m gonna get you.”

“And my little dog, too?” I wisecrack while my finger searches for the safety button.

He takes another step. “You aren’t gonna shoot me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” I find the button at last.

Yes! Victory is mine!

I push it. The magazine falls out the bottom of my gun. 

No! Victory is so
not
mine!

“Frack,” I whisper, staring in disbelief at my utterly useless weapon. I hit the wrong damn button. Again.

Petey laughs as he makes a lunge for me. I recoil away, knowing I’m not fast enough. The only thought in my head is that I’m pretty sure I’m done for, when I hear it.

A growl.

My eyes drop just in time to see a white blob of fur launch itself at Petey’s outstretched hands.

“What the fu— AHH!” Petey curses as a row of tiny, razor-sharp teeth clamp down on the fleshy part of his palm. “FUCK!”

He whips his injured hand sharply and I see Boo go flying.

“No!” I scream, watching his tiny body bounce off the side of the SUV with a sickening thud. He lets out an unmistakable yelp of pain when he hits the asphalt, before his body goes completely still. “Boo!”

He’s not moving.

My adorable demon-dog is not moving.

Something inside me snaps.

I don’t think. I hurl myself at Petey, hell-bent on destruction. My fists flail out and I feel vindication pump through me as one collides with his nose. My nails rake down his cheek so hard blood beads in their tracks.

“Fuck!” His hands come up to block my assault. I notice one of them is bleeding.

Good. Boo drew blood, too.

I kick him, one of my stilettos making contact with his most prized possession — the space directly between his legs. He grunts in pain and hunches in on himself involuntarily. He seems stunned I’m fighting back.

I use that to my advantage. 

“You hurt my dog, you fucker!” I scream at the top of my lungs, kicking him in the shins, the thighs, anywhere I can reach. Again and again and again, until he falls to the ground, groaning.

“You shot my brother!” I scream, barely recognizing my own voice.

I kick and kick and kick, with a savagery that surprises me.

“And that’s for Lila, you sonovabitch!”

He moans and curls tighter into himself.

“Sweet P.”

The tension in my brother’s tone makes me look up from my assault. Petey is whimpering on the ground like a coward. I feel a strange, detached sense of satisfaction when I see that, along with some serious undercurrents of horror at my own barbarity.

Perfect Phoebe West — socialite and secret sociopath. Who knew?

My eyes swing up toward the sound of Parker’s voice and I feel them widen as they take in the sight a dozen feet from me. My throat closes, not letting any air in or out as I stare at my big brother.

He’s standing there looking at me, a bright crimson circle staining his t-shirt at the shoulder, with a gun barrel pressed to his temple. My eyes trail from the hand holding the gun, up one muscular arm, and finally, to the face of the man who’s been haunting my nightmares.

***

“Cormack.” The word barely makes it past my lips. “Let him go.”

“I don’t think so, Phoebe.” He smiles — a cold, cruel grimace. “See, I need one of you. Your father isn’t being cooperative. I think he needs a bit of incentive.”

I hear gunfire in the distance — Nate and Theo are still occupied on the tarmac. I’m on my own.

My razor-sharp stiletto heel is poised over Petey’s temple. I know if I stepped down with all my body weight, I could kill him instantly.

I’m not an exceptionally violent person. Never have been.

I don’t believe in the death penalty. I cried when hunters killed Cecil the Lion, for god’s sake. But in this moment, right here, with my brother’s life on the line and my dog lying motionless and the man I love in jeopardy…

I could do it.

I know I could.

“Let go of my brother or I’ll kill him.” My words are flat, emotionless.

I’ve been spending too much time around Nate.

Cormack’s smile twitches wider. “I like you like this, Phoebe. You’re much feistier than I gave you credit for, in the beginning. I used to think you were just a dumb heiress.” His eyes narrow. “Now, I think you’re a dumb heiress with no sense of self-preservation.”

“Let him go,” I repeat.

“You wanna kill Petey? Go ahead.” Cormack shakes his head, amused. “He’s useless, anyway.”

Frack
.

There goes my only bargaining chip.

Petey grunts and starts to shift. I press my heel down tighter and he goes still.

“This isn’t gonna go your way, Phoebe.” Cormack stares me down. “It only ends one way.” He sidles closer to Parker and I see my brother flinch when the gun digs into his skin. “You’ve got ten seconds to decide. Do I blow his brains out right here? Or are you going to move that heel?” 

Frack. Frack. Frack.

Out of options. Out of time. My eyes cut to Parker for a fraction of a second.

“Phoebe, run!” His voice is pleading. “Don’t worry about me, just get the fuck out of here.”

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Cormack adjusts his grip on the gun, pressing it more firmly against my brother’s temple. My heart skips a beat. “He’ll be dead before you make it two steps.”