Gail Barrett - A Kiss to Die for

He leaped off the porch and charged.

* * *

She wasn’t going to make it. She’d never get Lindsey to safety before the gang began to shoot. She’d just run out of time.

A shot barked out from the vehicle. The girl let out a panicked scream. Desperation erupting inside her, Haley lunged to Lindsey’s side, staying between her and the SUV in an attempt to shield her and that precious babe.

But then a man barreled into the street out of nowhere. Startled, she whipped around. She caught sight of shaggy blond hair and furious eyes as he rushed toward her, a pistol in his left hand.

“Go!” he shouted. “Take cover behind the car!”

Haley didn’t hesitate. Dragging Lindsey with her, she sprinted toward the curb while the man opened fire on the SUV, the sharp reports thundering through the air. She dove to the ground, pushing Lindsey behind the engine block, deliriously grateful for the mystery man’s help. But who was he? Where had he come from? And where had he gotten that gun?

The gang returned fire, the staccato of semi-automatic gunfire making her flinch. Fearing bullets would penetrate the vehicle, she flattened herself over the teenager, determined to protect her at any cost. Their avenger ducked behind a nearby tree, but a new horror fisted in Haley’s throat. He’d helped rescue the teenager—but now the gang was shooting at him. How could he possibly survive?

The shots went on forever, the rapid-fire stream of bullets shattering the windows on the house nearby. More shots slammed into the car, the force of the deadly blasts making it rock. Hardly able to think straight, Haley covered the girl’s head, total pandemonium breaking loose inside. They’d never make it out alive.

The shooting paused. Rap music drummed through the silence, the menacing sound stoking her nerves. Their rescuer sprang out from behind the tree, firing several rounds at the SUV as he raced over and dove behind the parked car. He landed close beside her, breathing hard.

She spared a glance his way, gathering a quick impression of dark, slashing brows, a steel jaw lined with heavy stubble, shoulders so broad they blocked the light. He ejected a spent magazine, then slammed another into his gun without looking at her. Whoever he was, whatever guardian angel had sent this commando to save them, they owed him their lives.

Assuming any of them survived.

“Stay right there,” he shouted as more gunfire tatted out, and she covered her ringing ears. But the firefight raged, the noise horrific. Bullets sprayed the parked cars. Haley tried her best to shield the teenager, but the futility of their predicament hit her hard. How could they escape this? The three of them were doomed.

The din grew even louder, the cacophony so overwhelming she thought her head would splinter apart. Then the shooting abruptly stopped. Tires squealed and the SUV zoomed off. The thumping music grew fainter as the vehicle drove farther away.

For a minute, she didn’t move. She gasped for breath, her pulse still chaotic at the close call. Her ears throbbed in the painful silence, the girl’s frantic whimpers finally penetrating her daze.

“Are you all right?” the man asked.

His low, gravelly voice drew her attention, and she turned her head. She met his grim, whiskey-hued eyes, and her belly made a little clutch, the reaction catching her unprepared. Startled, she took in his dark, furrowed brows, the stark angles of his craggy face. He had straight, collar-length hair dampened with sweat, a slightly off-center nose that hinted at less than a choirboy past. A few days’ worth of razor stubble—several shades darker than his blond hair—covered his throat and jaw.

Her heart took another swerve. He wasn’t exactly handsome. But man, oh man, was he attractive. Arresting. Thoroughly masculine in a decidedly carnal way. He looked like an old-fashioned gunslinger, like the loner who rode into town, risking his life to battle the bad guys and save the day. A solitary man in need of comfort who left behind a trail of broken hearts as he rode away.

This was the homeless man, she realized with a start. But he was nothing like she’d expected. He was younger—in his midthirties at most—and far more virile. He wore work boots and tattered jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt he’d pushed up to his elbows, exposing the tendons roping his arms. His hands were big and lean. He cradled the gun with lethal ease.

He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

Her throat suddenly dry, she managed a nod. “I’m fine.” Thanks to you.

“Well, you’re damned lucky. What the hell were you thinking, running out into the street like that? You could have been killed.”

His sudden anger took her aback. “I had to protect Lindsey. I couldn’t let them...” Suddenly remembering the pregnant teenager, she rolled aside. “Oh, God. Lindsey. Are you hurt?”

The girl lifted her head, her eyes huge in her too-pale face. “I’m okay. But...what happened? Who was that? Why were they shooting at us?”

Haley’s mouth went flat, her own anger stirring now. “The Ridgewood gang.” Based primarily in Baltimore, the gang had recently begun making inroads into nearby Washington, D.C., in an effort to control the heroin trade. And she’d be damned if they’d chase her out.

Grabbing hold of the car’s door handle, she pulled herself upright, more shaken than she cared to admit. She’d been in a lot of danger during her homeless years, but this incident ranked up there with the worst.

The man reached out his hand to the teenager and helped her to her feet. And Haley couldn’t help but blink. He towered above them, his wide shoulders heavy with muscle, his lean body whittled of any fat. And he’d materialized by magic, like some sort of avenging angel.

A very earthly angel. Her heart made another lurch.

“Who are you?” Lindsey sounded just as awed.

“Sully. Sullivan Turner.”

His deep voice rumbled through Haley like a caress. Braced for the sensual impact, she met his gaze dead-on. “Well, Sully Turner. I have to thank you. You saved our lives.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “So why were they shooting at you?”

“Wrong place, wrong time, I guess. They’re establishing their territory, and we got in their way.”

“I don’t think so.”

She paused. “What do you mean? You think they were targeting us specifically?”

“That’s how it looked from where I stood.”

Her belly dipped. Dread whispered through her, a memory ghosting back from the past. But that was nuts. The killer couldn’t have found her. There was no way he would know where she was—not after all these years. And even if he did, why would he want to harm her? The actual shooters were dead now. She couldn’t implicate anyone else in that long-ago crime. She had nothing to worry about. She was safe.

“That’s crazy. That shooting was random.” It had to be. Because the alternative scared her down to her bones.

“If you say so.” His eyes skeptical, Sully stuffed his pistol into the waistband of his jeans. “Come on. You need to get off the street before they come back.”

Her heart skittered a beat. “Why would they come back?”

“I hit one. I’m not sure how bad he’s bleeding, but they’re going to retaliate.”

He was right. The gang wouldn’t let a challenge like that go unanswered, especially when they were determined to rule the street. They would insist on exacting revenge.

Which meant Lindsey wasn’t safe. The other girls in her care weren’t safe. Even this homeless man wasn’t safe. He was a marked man now—because he’d rescued her.

She’d endangered the life of an innocent man.

Again.

Chapter 2

Sully limped up the sidewalk beside the woman, his hands trembling, his pulse jumping, a cold sweat beading his palms. That semi-automatic gunfire kept ricocheting through his mind in an endless loop, making it hard to distinguish his nightmares from fact.