Page 145 of Sins of Innocence

The passersbys split and walk around us without a single complaint. Not like it would be if I was the one stopped in the middle of the sidewalk without Kieran.

"Truck. Not car."

"Does it really matter?" I ask, some of the impatience I feel bleeding into my voice.

Understanding finally registering, Kieran's eyes go molten just that fast. He opens his mouth to answer, but then goes still, his gaze darting side to side.

Chapter twenty-nine

Not So Normal

WRAITH

Ifinally get what my wife is suggesting and my dick reacts instantly. A split second later, so do my instincts.

There's sound of movement from the alley to our right. Shuffling feet, the movements furtive and low, indistinct voices.

Wearing hoodies and gang colors, three men emerge from the shadowed alleyway. Their attention on us and no one else, they move toward us with bravado and menace.

My muscles tense and my senses sharpen beyond their normal alertness as I slip into predator mode. This is going to go down one of two ways. They die now. Or they die later.

"Baby girl." My tone makes the flirty smile drop from her pretty lips. "Get behind me."

Without asking why, Áine moves instantly just as one of the men rushes to close the distance.

"Wallets and phones," he barks.

A mugging?

Their fucking bad luck they chose the wrong marks.

"Get lost." I give them one chance to choose life.

"No, man. We ain't going nowhere." The second guy's eyes flick toward Áine behind me. "Not until you give us what we want."

I shift so Áine has the steps up to a building at her back and I'm between her and the men whose lives are about to end because of bad choices.

That's when I see two more men approaching from the direction of the coffee shop.

No hoodies, but same gang colors and swagger.

"Go up," I order.

The air shifts behind me letting me know Áine listened and is heading up the steps to the wide stoop, putting her out of harm's way.

That's when the first guy reaches under the hem of his hoodie for the gun tucked in his waistband.

Amateur. That's a good way to get his dick shot off.

I’m moving before his fingers even clear the fabric.

Iced coffee is not an effective weapon. I drop it. One step closes the gap. I trap his wrist, twisting it outward until the bone pops and the gun clatters onto the concrete. Before he can even scream, I drive the hard edge of my forearm straight into the anterior of his neck.

It’s not a full, windpipe-crushing blow. I want him alive to talk later. The impact still hits with a wet, hollow thud.

Clutching his throat, he instantly drops to his hands and knees. His chest heaves violently and he makes a high-pitched, whistling sound with every desperate breath.

Incapacitated, but alive. For now.