Chapter 12
Samantha
I’m screaming and fighting with all my strength when the enormous man on the descending scaffold suddenly grumbles something about how I’ll freeze to death out here. Before I know what’s happening, he’s wrapping me in his coat, shocking me into stillness. It’s then that I get my first look at him.
“Copper? Are you Damon’s cousin, Copper?” My head spins. Damon talked about this man being torn between his father’s crime legacy and their own desire for something better. But I never expected to be face to face with him.
“That’s me,” the giant grumbles. “Sorry about that. If it’s any comfort, this isn’t anything personal at all.”
“You just yanked me out of a penthouse window and are kidnapping me by transporting me down the side of a high-rise. How am I not supposed to take it personally?” I look around, terrified to be trapped on this windy, fragile thing.
He snorts and holds me by the scruff, the heavy coat trapping me as much as warming me. I see him put a cellphone to his ear. “Yeah. I’ve got her. I’ll send the ultimatum once I’m far enough down the building that he can’t shoot me.”
He listens and his face twists into a scowl. “Yeah, well, you tell my father that if he lays a finger on either of them, I’ll kill him myself. Hate this whole fucking business.”
Some more listening, and then he hangs up the phone and calls Damon. I try to call out to my lover, but immediately get a huge hand clapped over my mouth again.
But listening to the conversation relaxes me slightly. Damon seems to be getting through to this guy—who isn’t even acting of his own will. When he hangs up, he removes the hand from my mouth, but looks at me forbiddingly. “No more screaming. Fucking Ben has a hair-trigger.”
“Look,” I say hastily. “I get that you’re being pushed into this, but you should really rethink your approach. Damon owns this fucking building. If you want two million, he could probably just put it together for you.”
“Yeah, and were it up to me I’d say yes in a trice. But my dad wants Denny to suffer. Now, if you’re careful and do as I say, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He looks down and scowls as a van roars around the corner and drives up to stop underneath us. “There he is now.”
“I see him.” My heart sinks. The last thing I need is to be stuffed in a van and driven away before Damon can even get down ...stairs ....?
The first thing that pops into my head when Damon races around the corner with his cellphone in one hand and his gun in the other is how the hell did he get down faster than we did?
A man opens the van’s sunroof. He’s redheaded, stocky, and scarred across his cheeks, and has a pistol in his hand as well. “Hurry up you fucking tit. We have to get out of here before someone notices us!”
Then he sees where Copper and I are looking as we descend, and he curses in such a thick Irish accent I can’t catch what he’s saying. And then, in a moment I’ll never forget for the rest of my life—however long that may be—he turns and fires on Damon. With reflexes faster than I’ve ever seen, Damon ducks behind a dumpster and shoots back. The man grabs his arm, gasping ...but just switches his gun to the other hand.
“You fucking called him and warned him, you bastard!” the redhead yells up at us—and then he’s pointing that huge pistol up at the two of us. “I’ll kill you and the girl both!”
“Don’t do it, Ben!” Copper booms and shoves me behind him. I stare at his back ...and down at Damon. In that moment, I truly understand how he and Damon could have been raised as brothers.
Three guns go off as one, and the giant in front of me grunts in pain and doubles over. I grab him and haul him back with all my strength before he can fall off the scaffold. Once I have him safe and am putting pressure on his chest wound, I look down and see that, though Copper missed, Damon’s bullet found its mark. I glance at the red-haired corpse and then go back to tending to my reluctant kidnapper.
“Copper!” Damon yells, having seen the big man take the bullet for me while he killed the shooter. “You still with us?”
“Fuck,” Copper gasped. “Yeah, but don’t know how long I’m for it. Think the fucker hit me in the heart.”
“You couldn’t talk if he’d hit you in the heart.” Damon climbs up to us. “I’ve called for an ambulance. Let me do the talking once they get here.”
“Well, it fucking hurts like it.” The big man’s scared. Can’t blame him—I was on brink too, recently. Even though he dragged me out of a window in the middle of the night, I grab his hand so he’ll have someone’s to hold.
“Well, you’re in luck, because I happen to specialize in fixing hearts.” Damon takes off his jacket so we can wrap Copper in his own coat. We hear the wail of the ambulance siren—Damon’s credentials get fast results.
“Yeah, he’s not kidding. He just fixed mine a few weeks ago.” I smile down at the bruiser, whose eyes twinkle weakly.
“Really? Well ...that’s really something ....” he mumbles. As he starts passing out, he says to Damon, “Denny ...if I don’t make it ...fucking call your mother. It’s Christmas.”
“I will,” Damon promises, slipping an arm around me as we wait for the ambulance crew.