Bullet Proof (B-Squad 0.50)

Taz was going to tear Oliver into pieces for ever having the audacity to put a gun on Bianca. As soon as she dropped to the floor, he grabbed the lamp and flung it at Oliver.

The lamp whizzed by the other man's head, missing by millimeters. It would be the only bit of luck the bastard would have today. Taking advantage of the surprise attack, Taz launched himself at the other man, hurtling over Bianca's crouched form and plowing into Oliver with the force of a Mack truck slamming into a ladybug.

They hit the floor and rolled. Taz grabbed Oliver's wrists, slamming the hand holding the gun against the floor again and again until he lost his grip on the gun. It spun away.

"Bianca," he yelled as he fought to keep Oliver pinned to the floor.

"Already on it," she called out.

But she wasn't alone. A flash of purple cut across his periphery. Amelia.

"Watch out!" he shouted.

Too late. Amelia scrambled for the gun at the same time as Bianca.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Oliver landed a hard uppercut to Taz's chin t

hat sent his head back. Seizing the momentum, Oliver rolled so he was on top. He shouldn't have been able to do it. Taz had fifty pounds on him. However, if the other man was sampling his supply of Genie's Wish then his drive to fight would be unmatched. Skill. Strength. Pain threshold. None of it would matter to a man high on rage and Genie's Wish.

Even as he traded punch after punch with the other man, he could hear the grunts and cries from Bianca and Amelia as they fought for the gun. It wasn't a boxing match—it was a do-whatever-it-takes-to-win brawl for all of them.

He and Oliver wrestled for control, landing sucker punches, biting tender flesh, kicking out to make contact with sensitive spots as the floor and ceiling traded places over and over again. Finding himself on the bottom, Taz looked up into the dilated eyes of the other man. That confirmation of Oliver being on Genie's Wish was disturbing enough, but it wasn't what jabbed a poker of fear into Taz's heart. It was that despite the other man's beet-red face, fast forming bruises, and heaving chest, Oliver was smiling as if this was the most fun he'd had in his entire miserable life.

Keir hadn't been kidding about the criminal possibilities for the drug. With an army of Genie's Wish powered thugs, a crime boss would be near invincible.

Taz accepted the other man's blows, knowing he couldn't defeat him with just his fists. He reached out for something—anything—that could knock the other man out. Oliver landed a headbutt that hit Taz square in the nose. The crunch followed by the rush of blood down his face confirmed what the jolt of agony indicated—the fucker broke his nose.

Reaching back to his days on the street, he shucked off the veneer of rule-abiding boxer and tapped into the fury, desperation, and iron-willed focus needed to end this once and for all. His fingers closed around the broken remains of the table lamp he'd thrown earlier. It had a solid mahogany base. He curled his fingers around the neck as if it were a baseball bat and smashed it into Oliver's temple. He went down and didn't get back up.

Taz shoved the other man's unconscious body off his. Pain ricocheted through him as he stood up, but not enough to block out the sounds of Amelia and Bianca fighting.

They were across the room, going toe-to-toe. Bianca was good, but the other woman had a longer arm span and no doubt years of hard-scrabble fighting on her side. She slammed her hard elbow against Bianca's cheekbone, sending her tumbling back and away from the gun that lay on the floor between them. Nothing stood between Amelia and the gun.

He didn't have time to think—not that he needed to. As soon as she secured the gun, Bianca was dead. There had been only one choice.

He dove toward Bianca, putting his body between her and Amelia.

A shot.

Fire burrowed through his shoulder, a white-hot lightning flash of pain that turned the world dark. But he wouldn't let it. He crashed to the floor, blood running down his arm.

Bianca scrambled to her feet and leapfrogged over him, smashing into Amelia and taking her to the ground. She pried the gun from the other woman's hands and trained it on Amelia, her arms steady and her aim sure. In her head-to-toe black, her lip bleeding and more than a few bruises already starting to form, she didn't just look like Ft. Worth's avenging angel—she was that and so much more.

He might not be able to handle it if anything ever happened to her, but he loved her too much to stand in her way. This was the life she'd chosen, the one she was determined to make happen. Looking at her right then, he knew in his bones that he would do whatever it took to help her accomplish her dreams. The city needed her just as much as he did.

"On your knees," Bianca said. "Hands behind your head, fingers laced."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, Amelia complied.

"Are you okay?" Bianca asked, keeping her gaze trained on the other woman.

He twisted and glanced down at his shoulder. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but the hole torn into the back of his shirt showed the bullet had exited. "I'll live."

She pivoted her stance so she could easily fire off a shot toward Amelia, on her knees, or Oliver, still unconscious across the room. "That's more than can be said for these two."

Amelia jerked her head up, her eyes wide with fear. "Don't shoot."

"Give me one good reason," Bianca said.