A Kiss to Die for. Gail Barrett
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and rattled the window. Rap music now boomed out, the spew of angry lyrics throbbing through Sully’s skull. He shifted his weight from his aching leg, his nerves coiling tighter as he watched the street. A vehicle crawled into view, a black SUV with dark tinted windows, pimped out with flashy chrome. Gangbangers. He’d seen them cruising the neighborhood in the past few days, staking their claim to the territory, challenging anyone who stood in their way.
But this situation felt different. They were driving too slowly, inching down the street with lethal intent. Was a drug deal going down—or something worse?
What did it matter? This wasn’t his problem. He had no reason to get involved.
And yet... He stood motionless at the window, his attention riveted on the unfolding scene. The young kid crossing the street. The SUV steadily approaching. The woman from the shelter scurrying along the sidewalk as she rushed toward the pregnant teen.
He didn’t like this. His instincts were clamoring hard. He needed to get those women off the street pronto before someone ended up dead.
Kicking into gear now, he reached into his waistband and tugged out his Glock—a holdover from his army days. Then, keeping his gaze glued on the oncoming vehicle, he limped to the front door. He pulled it open and stepped outside onto the sagging porch.
The cold air brushed his skin. The heavy bass from the SUV thundered through his chest. The pregnant girl was halfway across the street now, her face registering fear as she caught sight of the gang.
The tinted windows on the SUV rolled down. The barrel of a rifle appeared, the shock of it halting his steps. An E-13. He couldn’t mistake the experimental weapon with its distinctive bullpup configuration, even from this far away.
And they were going to use it to shoot that kid.
Without warning, the shelter woman darted into the street, straight into the line of fire, and his heart careened to a stop. She didn’t have a chance. The gang would mow her down before she made it three more feet.
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