Knocking me sideways and slamming me against the ground so hard the breath punches out of me, my head hitting the ground with a dull thud, he crawls over me and covers my body with his. Everything goes black for a second and pain so sharp it makes my eyes water explodes in the back of my head while the noise around me fades in and out.
My brain is screaming at me to move, that the danger isn’t over. Lifting my head and wincing as I try to roll to my front and get up, I find myself pinned under Beau’s massive body. Unable to comprehend what’s happening, I shove him as hard as I can, needing him to get off me before Dimitri fires again, but it’s like trying to push a wall.
Panic threatens to overtake me, but I stuff it back down, knowing that staying calm is our best shot at getting through this.
“Beau, we need to move.”
It must only be a second of silence, but something inside me breaks open when he doesn’t reply.
The next shot hits lower, somewhere in his side, and a grunt tears out of him, but he doesn't let go of me, still shielding my body with his.
“No,” I whimper, dredging up as much energy as I can to lift myself just mere inches off the ground. He’s too heavy to move, not helping me at all as I struggle beneath him. That’s not good.
No, no, no.
His heartbeat is hammering against my chest, which would be reassuring if not for the heat of his blood that’s now soaking through his shirt and onto my hands where I’m clutching at his shoulders attempting to roll us.
“Lisa…” he moans, pushing up onto his hands and knees. Footsteps approach, and I freeze, eyes wide, knowing what’s coming.
So does Beau, because he moves at the last second, just enough, as the third bullet rips through his shoulder and sprays blood across the side of my face.
"BEAU!"
He sags, one elbow bending just a little before he surges up to his knees.
Dimitri is walking toward us, the gun still raised, closing the distance with a flat expression, while ignoring the screaming patrons behind us and the cars that are tearing out of the lot behind him. He stops close to Beau tilting his head, studying him.
“What is it with you fucking Lennoxes?” he snarls, then he adjusts his aim and points the gun at my face.
Beau's hand shoots up and grabs the barrel.
The gun discharges, the bullet punching through Dimitri's thigh, and his scream bounces off the warehouse walls. Before he's even started to fall, Beau's other fist connects with his jaw, a devastating punch thrown from his knees with three bullets in his body, and Dimitri drops to the concrete, out cold.
Beau’s breath leaves him in one big exhale, and he tips forward. The shouting from the warehouse is still pouring out into the night, but here in the dark, it sounds distant, the only sound I hear is Beau's laboured breathing.
My hands scramble for a grip under his arms, fingers slipping in the blood that's everywhere now. He's too heavy. When he falls to the ground, I go down with him, the tarmac biting my skin through the torn leather pants, holding him against me, his head lolling against my shoulder.
“Beau? Lisa?” Van’s voice is in my ear. “I’m on the way. Police and ambulances are incoming.”
I ease Beau onto his back, and the wetness spreading beneath him is warm against my knees. My lip wobbles as I stare at his handsome face, twisting in pain with each rasping inhale that he takes.
“Mr. Black’s gone. He doesn’t have Amber,” Tripp confirms over the radio before his real voice approaches from the side, cursing as he drops to his knees beside us.
When Beau’s eyelids droop, threatening to shut, I press a hand to the side of his face.
"Stay with me."
Yanking his shirt up, my shaking fingers search for the wounds, expecting the worst, damage that no amount of pressure or field dressing is going to fix.
There’s too much blood.
“I can’t… I can’t see where it’s coming from…” I cry out to Tripp as I frantically search his torso with hands I can't keep steady.
Tripp is frisking a handcuffed Dimitri, making sure he has no other weapons. With a triumphant shout, he yanks a set of keys out of Dimitri’s inside pocket and stands. Scanning the lot, he presses the fob, and in the distance, orange lights flash.
“Tripp! Help me!”
Ignoring my pleas, I watch in disbelief as he takes off across the car park toward Dimitri’s vehicle with little or no concern for the state of his friend, who is literally dying right here in the dirt.