Page 20 of A Violet Obsession

I’m debating whether to get out and follow on foot when a black SUV passes me. It slides up to the curb in front of her. Both passenger doors open simultaneously.

Red.

A wall of hot, blinding red obliterates every rational thought in my skull the second I see the two men lift her off her feet and force her into the vehicle. One of them has a hand clamped over her mouth. The other grabs her bag strap and uses it to wrench her sideways. Her body collides with the vehicle, and then they shove her in, and the SUV rockets away from the curb.

Adrenaline floods my system. I throw my truck into gear and floor it.

My vision narrows to a single point as I close the distance and then pass them. The driver glances at me with a frown before I cut the wheel hard and slam on the brakes, forcing them to stop.

I’m out before the truck stops rocking, my gun up and level. Freezing rain hits my face, but I barely feel it.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” I roar at the two men in the front seat.

The driver’s eyes are wide, but it’s the front-seat passenger I’m watching—his hand is already reaching. Two bullets into the front tires has both men lifting their hands.

“Send her out.”

The driver’s head turns slightly—a glance toward the back seat. Nothing happens. Whoever is sitting back there with Lily thinks they have a choice.

“Send. Her. Out,” I snarl, louder this time. I aim at the driver’s head for emphasis.

A beat. Then the rear door opens, and a man steps out, arms held wide. Behind him, Lily tumbles out onto the wet pavement, bag clutched to her chest, face deathly white. Her eyes are so wide that the green has almost disappeared into the black of her pupils.

Did they have time to hurt her?

The thought ignites a fresh surge of fury, and my finger tightens on the trigger before I pull it back.

Not here.

I’m conscious of the people up the street watching. Probably recording.

“Move away from him, Lily. Now.”

She stumbles clear of the door but just stands there, swaying on the wet pavement, staring at me like she’s never seen me before.

“Get in the truck.” I don’t look at her. Can’t afford to take my eyes off the SUV without someone covering me.

She doesn’t move. “Finn?” She manages through chattering teeth.

“Truck. Now.” The bark in my voice leaves no room for interpretation, and it seems to break through whatever shock has frozen her, because she finally scrambles past me. The truck door slams behind me.

“Back in the car and shut the fucking door.” I point the gun at the man on the sidewalk. He complies with a glare.

I back toward the driver’s side of my truck, weapon still up, eyes locked on the SUV. Everything in my body wants to walk up to that car and drag whoever else is in the back seat out by their throat.

But we’re in the open, and Lily is in the crossfire.

The wheels of my truck spin for a second before catching, catapulting us forward. Beside me, Lily is pressed against the passenger door, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I pull one of my burner phones from the console and dial.

“It’s me.” My boss, Vincent Menardi, picks up on the first ring. “I’m coming in hot. Need to be out of sight.”

“Gate will be open.”