Page 9 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

The vision of his wife faded, leaving only the woman sleeping on the hard floor beside him.She emitted a gentle little snore that seemed far too loud in the enclosed space. Noah froze, waiting to see if anyone had heard. A bead of sweat made its way down his spine as he watched the men draw closer to the panic room. One gun against four wasn’t good odds, especially when one of the men carried a semiautomatic weapon.

Time stretched out in agony as Noah waited. Shouldn’t there be sirens by now? The cops were only blocks away. Instead, all he heard was the muted movements of the armed men as they searched the loft.

Noah watched them open the two doors on either side of the panic room’s entrance. They were so close that he could hear their every word through the paper-thin walls. Guessnowhe had audio to go with the cameras. If they made it out of this alive, the first thing he’d do was rip out her security system and replace it with something that actually did the job.

“Nothing,” one of them said as he came back through the door Noah had assumed led to a closet. “Coupla empty rooms. No girl.”

“Where the fuck is she?” a tall, thin man demanded as he turned his back on the camera.

The patch on the back of his sleeveless denim jacket came into focus, and Noah’s stomach tightened when he read the insignia—Demon Brothers MC. He let out a slow, silent breath. What the hell had Annabelle witnessed that had the Demons after her? This wasn’t good. This was as bad as it could get. The gang had been in its infancy when he’d been a cop in Atlantic City, but the tales he’d heard about them turned his stomach.They weren’t the largest motorcycle club in the States, but they were one of the deadliest.

Noah clenched his teeth, fighting back the anger that could cause him to make a mistake. He needed a calm head. Needed to focus. He’d deal with the assistant DA later and ask why she’d failed to mention the Demons’ involvement when hiring his team. Even a last-minute job required a briefing on the essentials. And knowing who they were up against wasdefinitelyessential.

“She gotta be hiding.” A short, stocky guy with tattoos running up the back of his neck and onto his bald head gestured around the room with his gun. “She’s too scared to leave the building. Stoop said she ain’t been outta here in years. Gets sick if she tries.”

“Then we search.” The thin guy motioned to his fellow Demons. “Loco, Runner, rip the place apart. Bone, call the guys, fill them in.”

The stocky guy nodded and pulled out his phone as the other three spread out and started searching. They weren’t delicate about it either. They overturned the bed and emptied the kitchen cupboards, and anything in their way was knocked down and trampled on.

Beside Noah, Annabelle stirred, disturbed by the noise. He watched her closely, ready to stop her from talking if she surfaced. How, he didn’t know, but he’d figure it out. However, after a few seconds, she settled, and Noah could breathe again. He returned his attention to the monitors.

Just as Annabelle coughed.

Chapter Four

Where the hell were the cops?

Violet had called them a good five minutes ago and there was still no sign of them. Given that Noah was right and the main sheriff’s office was only a few streets away, she’d expected someone to arrive almost immediately. Or maybe the sheriff’s office wasn’t who answered emergency calls. Maybe it was the other cops. The city police?

She growled in frustration. The American legal system was confusing, and she didn’t like to be confused. She also didn’t like hiding outside on the street while her partner was having all the fun inside the building. If anyone was going to shoot somebody, it ought to be her.

Violet eyed the two sedans parked across the road, their engines still running. Four men had climbed out of each, which she thought was overkill. They’d had three big guys squished into the back seats like sardines in a tin. How many men did it take to kill one housebound woman? Pathetic.

The drivers were cautious, constantly scanning the roads around them, meaning it was impossible to sneak up on them. Pity. Because she would have enjoyed pistol-whipping them into a coma.

She tried to remember if it was illegal to shoot them. Noah would know. But Noah wasn’t there. Surely she’d be justified in shooting them, seeing as they were bad guys waiting for their armed friends to kill an innocent woman. If that wasn’t the definition of an accomplice, she didn’t know what was. Violet wished she’d watched more American crime shows and less reality TV. If she had done, she might know whether she had the right to shoot the drivers.

There was nothing for it but to ask her boss, so she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Rochelle Davis.

She answered straight away. “Talk to me.”

“Eight armed guys in the building. Two waiting outside in cars. No gunshots so far. Noah’s stuck in a panic room with our client, who’s out cold from overmedicating her flu. No sign of the cops yet. What I want to know is, can I shoot the drivers?”

A second’s silence, then, “No. You can’t shoot the drivers.”

“How else will I distract the guys inside and delay them from getting away? They’re bad guys. Doing bad things. Surely that’s justifiable cause or whatever the hell it’s called.”

“This isn’t a Hollywood movie. We don’t shoot first and ask questions later. We obey the law. Stand dow?—”

Violet hung up. It was clear she wouldn’t get any help from Ms. By-the-Book. Her phone vibrated as she put it back in her pocket. Ignoring what would no doubt be another pointless call with their team leader, she scanned the surrounding buildings, searching for a distraction. Something to flush the hit men back out into the open.

But nothing jumped out at her.

“Shut up!” the thin guy shouted. “I heard something.”

The Demons stilled, listening.

Noah grabbed the glass of water from the counter and crouched beside Annabelle. He placed his gun on the floor and raised her head with his left hand while pressing the glass to her lips. It was a desperate and pointless effort. She was sick and needed to cough. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that. Still, he had to try.