Page 92 of Property of Tacoma

He aims his gun at Jagger.

I don’t think.

I just move.

I step in front of Jagger, shielding him with my body.

The world slows down.

I see the Sinner’s finger tightening on the trigger.

Then a gunshot rings out.

I close my eyes, preparing for pain, but it doesn’t come.

Opening my eyes, I watch as the Sinner falls to the ground.

Tacoma is standing behind him, his gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

“We need to go,” he says, his voice tight. “Before the cops show up.”

“Wait.”

“We don’t have time,” he thunders back.

“We can’t exactly leave this place full of dead bodies, now can we?” I snap back.

Shimmying my backpack off my shoulders, I pull out a bottle of accelerant and twist off the cap.

He quirks a brow. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Burning this bitch to the ground.” I meet his eyes. “Let’s go.”

I leave a trail behind us as we head back downstairs, stepping over bodies as we go.

Once we’re outside, I dump the rest of the liquid across the floor.

Then I pull a book of matches from my bag and strike one.

The flame flares to life.

I toss it inside, and instantly the place goes up with a whoosh, flames racing across the accelerant.

“Can I just say how fucking creepy it is that you were prepared to set that motherfucker on fire,” Bane mutters as we hurry away from the building.

I shrug. “A girl needs to be ready for anything.”

Bash snorts.

“Come on!” Tacoma barks.

We hurry down the alleyway where the bikes are parked. Behind us, I can hear sirens in the distance, getting closer.

When we reach my bike, I turn to Jagger and pull him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers against my shoulder.

My throat tightens, and I blink back tears. “You don’t have to thank me, honey. I will always be here if you need me. Always. You hear me?”