Chapter 69: The Hamilton brothers

I slide down into the shadows of the back seat, my fingers still wrapped tightly around the gun.

My eyes snap toward him as his hand reaches for the door handle.

A new taste of fear suddenly clogs my throat.

He’s going out there, he’s actually going out there to face them.

The men who have been chasing us and now Lysander is stepping directly into their line of fire.

My heart pounds against my ribs.

"What are you doing?"

He doesn’t answer.

His eyes remain fixed on the rearview mirror.

He waits likes he’s calculating something.

I know that look, I’ve seen it before.

The look of a man who has already decided what he’s going to do and isn’t interested in anyone trying to stop him.

"Lysander..."

His fingers tighten around the gun.

Then he looks at me.

"Stay down."

Before I can respond, he pulls the door open.

I gasp.

He doesn’t immediately step out.

Instead, he waits.

The first shots come from behind us.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The bullets strike the car, the sound making me flinch violently.

I duck lower.

My heart is beating so hard I can barely hear anything else.

Lysander remains crouched beside the open door, waiting as another round of gunfire tears through the night.

Then silence.

My breathing is still loud in my ears but the shooting stops.

That’s all Lysander needs.

He launches upward. The moment he clears the door, his gun comes up and a series of sharp blasts rings through the air.

I press myself against the floor of the car.

I don’t know how many shots he fires, i don’t know whether he hits anyone.

I don’t want to know.

All I can think about is the fact that he’s outside.

Alone.

Fighting men who came prepared to kill us.

What if they get him? What if one of them gets around him?

What if.....

No.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I can’t think like that.

He’s Lysander, he’s probably survived worse.

I slowly open my eyes

"Lysander?"

Nothing.

My stomach drops.

"Lysander?"

Still nothing.

I lift my head.

He’s not beside the car, i look through the windshield.

Nothing.

My heartbeat kicks harder.

I shouldn’t just be sitting here, I know that.

If he’s outside fighting for both of us, I’m not going to hide inside like some helpless passenger.

I grab the gun, push the door open and step out.

"Lysander!"

Then I hear the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against the pavement.

I turn.

He’s crouched beside the damaged tire. Already working on it.

He’s changing the tire.

I almost laugh from sheer relief.

"You scared the hell out of me."

He glances up.

"What are you doing out of the car?"

"Helping."

"Get back inside."

"No."

His eyes narrow.

"Nerissa."

"I said no."

I move around the car, keeping low.

That’s when I see the headlights of two vehicles are coming toward us.

Fast.....Very fast.

"They’re coming."

Lysander looks over his shoulder.

"I know."

He immediately returns his attention to the tire.

His hands move quickly....too quickly, almost but not quickly enough.

The first vehicle swerves toward us.

I raise the gun.

"Lysander, move."

He doesn’t even look up.

I fire toward the approaching car. The shot forces the driver to jerk the steering wheel.

The car swerves to the right and the second vehicle tries to avoid it.

But it’s they are too close so it doesn’t, the two cars collide.

The sound of metal crashing into metal echoes through the air as both vehicles spin sideways.

I stare.

For a second, everything seems frozen.

Then Lysander curses.

"Give me another thirty seconds."

"Take twenty."

He grunts working after.

I keep my gun raised.

The two cars are damaged, but not enough.

Doors begin to open and I can make out people climbing out.

My stomach drops.

"They’re getting out."

"I know."

I fire again.

One of the men ducks behind his car. Another slams his door shut and raises his weapon.

"Lysander!"

"I’m almost done."

I keep my eyes on them.

One man steps out then another.

They’re all carrying guns.

I fire a couple of shoots but they duck back behind the vehicles.

Lysander pulls the final piece into place.

"Done."

He grabs my arm.

"Move."

We run for the car. I throw open the passenger door and climb inside.

Lysander gets behind the wheel a second later.

The engine roars.

The men come out from behind their cars, guns raised.

One of them fires, the bullet striking the side of the vehicle but we’re already moving.

Lysander slams his foot down and the car shoots forward.

I grab the door handle as we’re thrown back into our seats.

Another shot rings out behind us then another but the distance grows.

And slowly the headlights of the damaged cars disappear behind us.

I turn around, watching until they’re nothing more than tiny points of light.

Only then do I realize I’m holding my breath.

I release it slowly.

My hands are shaking slightly.

"You okay?"

I look at him.

"You ask me that now?"

His eyes flick toward me.

"You’re the one who came out of the car."

"And you’re the one who decided to change a tire in the middle of a shootout."

"Someone had to."

I stare at him.

"You are impossible."

"So are you."

I look down at the gun still clutched in my hand.

Then I look at him. Despite everything, a small smile pulls at my lips.

"We make a pretty good team."

Lysander glances at me. For one brief second, something unreadable passes through his eyes.

Then his attention returns to the road.

"Don’t get used to it."

I roll my eyes.

"Not like I plan for something like this to happen again."

Because somehow, despite the bullets, the chase, the blown tire and the men who wanted us dead...We’re still alive.

And for the first time, I’m beginning to wonder just how much trouble I got myself into by marrying Lysander Sanchez.

Lysander’s POV

I’m royally pissed.

Someone just dared to attack me and my wife.

Not just me. Nerissa.

They almost harmed my wife....

The thought alone has my hands tightening around the steering wheel as I drive back toward the house. My jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it.

It’s an insult I can’t take, I’ll have to act and act very quickly.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye.

She’s unusually quiet.

The adrenaline from the attack is still written all over her face, though she’s doing a damn good job pretending otherwise. My gun is back in the compartment, but I can still picture her holding it, leaning out of the window and taking down one of the cars chasing us.

She saved my ass.

And somehow, that pisses me off even more.

Because she shouldn’t have needed to. I should have made sure no one could get close enough to threaten her.

When we pull up at the house, I stop the car and look at her.

"Get inside."

She rolls her eyes. "I know how doors work."

"Just get inside, Nerissa."

She stares at me for a second, probably wondering why I sound so angry.

Then she gets out.

I watch until she disappears through the front door before I pull away.

Turn and head towards the club. I’m not going to the club because I want a drink.

I’m going there because I want answers.

Someone knew where we were, someone knew which car we were in, someone had enough information to organize an ambush.

That means this wasn’t random.

And I intend to find out exactly who thought they were clever enough to try it.

My phone rings before I make it halfway there.

I glance at the screen.

It’s One of the fuckers...The Hamilton brothers.

Interesting.

I answer.

"Talk."

Silence.

Then a familiar voice slides through the speaker.

"I see you got our message."

My grip tightens around the steering wheel.

So they’re behind it.

Of course they are.

I let out a humorless laugh.

"I see you’ve got a death wish."

A low chuckle comes through the phone.

It’s the kind of laugh that belongs to a man who thinks he’s untouchable.

That alone tells me everything I need to know.

"Meet us at the house."

My eyes narrow.

"The Hamilton house?"

"You know where it is."

"I do."

"Then you know where to find us."

The call cuts.

I stare at the screen for a moment. They want me to come to their house, they attacked me, nearly killed Nerissa, and now they’re inviting me into their territory.

Either they’re arrogant beyond reason...Or they know something I don’t.

Neither possibility makes me feel particularly patient.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and turn the wheel.

The club can wait.

The Hamilton brothers have just invited me into their den.

And I’m going to find out exactly what gave the audacity to orchestrate an ambush on me.