“Easton?” She swallowed and turned her head.
He was slumped forward, not moving.
“Easton.” Oh God, blood was running down the side of his head. The windshield was smashed, and bits of glass glinted in his black hair.
“Please, be okay.” Frantically, she unclipped her belt and reached for him. Her hands were shaking. “God, Easton.”
He had blood over half his face. She touched his cheek and he moaned. Relief shot through her. He was alive.
“Easton—”
Her door was yanked open. Gasping, she spun in her seat.
A man reached in, gripped her arm, and dragged her out.
“Let me go!”
He was a big guy, stone-faced, with a bald head and a thick beard. He yanked her away from the car. Fear was slick and oily inside her, and she tried to pull away from him.
With a grunt, the man smacked her in the side of her head.
She saw stars and staggered. Jesus. She fought to think through the pain.
Then anger hit her. Easton was hurt. These assholes had chased them and made them crash. And they’d shot at them.
With a cry, she kicked the man in the leg.
He cursed.
Harlow kicked again, this time aiming between his legs.
She got lucky, with perfect aim, and she felt something squish. Ew.
The man made a strangled sound and bent over.
Harlow backed up. The man straightened and pulled a gun from under his jacket.
She froze. Oh, shit. Her heartbeat was a roar in her head.
“You’re coming with me, even if I have to put a bullet in you,” he growled.
“Who the hell are you?” she cried.
“Shut up.”
Car tires screeched nearby. She heard shouts.
Gunshots echoed through the night.
With a cry, Harlow ducked. The man threatening her shouted and clutched his chest. He crashed to the ground.
She spun.
And saw Antoine’s creepy cousin, Hugo, walking toward her, gun in hand and a smirk on his face.
Fuck. She took a step back.
Hugo fired.
The bullet whizzed past her. Her chest was too tight for her to scream.
“You’re mine now, pretty bird.”
“Back off, asshole,” a deep, male voice said.
Easton.
She turned her head. He stood on the other side of the Aston, gun in his hand, and aimed right across the roof at Hugo.
He looked terrible, with blood covering the side of his head, but he seemed steady.
“Put the gun down,” Easton said.
“Fuck you, Norcross. She’s coming with me.”
Easton fired.
Hugo ducked and swiveled. Then he lifted his gun, aiming at Easton.
“No!” Without thinking, Harlow leaped at Hugo. The gun fired.
Everything moved like molasses. Pain seared across her arm.
“Harlow!” Easton roared.
She fell backward and hit the ground. She blinked and everything came back into focus.
She heard more gunshots. Saw people running.
Then she heard the roar of a motorcycle and saw the sleek, black bike screech in. Rhys Norcross leaped off, gun in hand.
Then Saxon and Vander sprinted into view.
Easton dropped down beside her.
“Dammit, Harlow. What the fuck were you thinking?” He pulled her coat open.
Red blood blossomed all over her white shirt, and bile rose in her throat. “That I didn’t want him to shoot you. That I had to protect you.”
Easton froze, staring at her for a beat.
Then his hands tore at her shirt. “Hold on. I’ve got you. You hold on, Harlow.”
Easton fought back the panic making his heart hammer against his ribs.
He tore open Harlow’s shirt, conscious of Vander barking orders at the others and securing the scene.
When Easton had seen Harlow jerk and go down…
Fear tasted really bad. He was so damn terrified. He’d been in too many firefights to count with the Rangers. He’d seen so many good soldiers die from bullet wounds, bodies ripped to shreds.
He remembered trying to save a new Ranger who’d been shot in a nasty firefight in Iraq. Simon had been young, idealistic, and he’d died in Easton’s arms.
Watching Harlow fall…
He got her shirt open and saw her wound. The air shuddered out of him.
“Is it…?” She swallowed. “God, how bad is it?”
“It’s—”
“Tell me the truth, Easton.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing her eyes closed.
“It barely nicked you.” The relief made his head swim.
Her eyes popped open. “What do you mean?”
Vander appeared out of the darkness, his face tight. “She okay?” He looked down, and his body relaxed. “Barely nicked her.”
Harlow sat up. “I went down. I’m bleeding everywhere. It can’t be a nick.”
“Baby—” Easton fought back a smile at the indignation on her face.
“It also hurts. A lot.”
Vander made a noise suspiciously like a snort.
Easton pulled her close, and pressed her coat against her arm to staunch the blood flow.
“The bullet grazed your arm.”
“That counts as shot, right?” she said.
“Sure.” He was just damn glad she was alive. He held her tighter. “You never, ever jump at a man holding a gun again.”
“I couldn’t let him shoot you.”
Fuck. He’d been shot at a lot, even taken a bullet twice, not that he’d ever tell her, but what Harlow had done for him… It undid him.
“You see a gun, you run in the opposite direction.” He tipped her face up and kissed her. “Or I’ll spank your ass red.”
She gasped, and damn if she didn’t squirm a little.
Then she cupped the side of his face. “You’re bleeding.”
“Broken glass from the crash. “
“You’re all right?”
“Yeah.”
“My arm really does hurt,” she murmured.
“I know. I’ll get you to the hospital. You might need stitches.”
“No, I don’t want to go to the hospital. It’s just a nick.”
Now it was just a nick?
She glanced around. “I just want to go home. Be safe.”
“Baby, you need to see a doctor—”
“I hate hospitals, Easton.” She gripped him. “I hate them.”
He saw the fear in her eyes.
“Baby?”
“My mom had several bad miscarriages. We spent a lot of time there. And my grandmother died in the hospital. I just don’t like them.”
He tugged her closer.
“At the hospital…everything’s out of your control,” she whispered.
“Okay, baby. It’ll be all right.”
“Hunt incoming,” Vander said.
Easton watched as the unmarked police car pulled up. Hunt slid out, and strode toward them. He was in jeans and a black shirt with his badge on his belt.
He eyed the wrecked Aston, then looked at the men Rhys was standing over. One of them was bleeding from a gunshot wound.
“You guys okay?” Hunt asked.
“I got shot,” Harlow said.
Hunt’s face hardened, his green gaze going to where Easton held the coat on her arm.