“One hundred percent.” Arlie steps closer. “We both know you won’t shoot either of us, so why don’t you put that gun down before you hurt yourself?”

I’m tempted to aim for her instead, but I hold steady, equal parts not wanting to startle her and give her a reason to shoot me and wanting to keep my aim on Luther in case she does shoot me and I can take him down with me.

“Why don’t we all put our weapons down,” I suggest, taking a step back. “Talk it out like grown-ups. I’m sure we can make some kind of deal.”

“Or you can tell us who else knows my identity, and there’s a slight chance we won’t kill you.” Luther sounds totally reasonable, except for the fact we both know he’ll definitely kill me.

Stress sweat slips down between my shoulder blades and rolls along my spine. My body has reached fight or flight, and I want to say fight is winning out, but it’s a mission to keep every roaring cell in place.

I swallow thickly and force a smile. “Or you could stop targeting me and all my friends, and no one has to die.”

“Not possible. Your friend got involved in my business. He asked for this.”

“Yikes, victim blaming in this day and age.”

Luther huffs and waves Arlie forward. “Either give us the names, or we’ll assume it’s all of them. Colin St. Clare’s gone, but who’s to say he didn’t tell his brother? Their little play soldier. Tommy⁠—”

Arlie glances back at Luther. “I told you: Tommy and Everett are with us.”

“Then where are they?”

“Keeping everyone in check.”

A corner of Luther’s lips curls wickedly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He stands suddenly and stalks closer, pausing halfway between me and Arlie. “Give me the names!”

I’m about to tell him he can go and quite literally fuck himself when there’s a loud bang from the bar. The three of us jump, but while they’re on high alert, I have nothing to lose at this point.

I let off a shot that—shockingly—totally misses, so, in quite possibly the dumbest move I’ve ever made, I throw myself at armed people.

I launch at Luther, and the both of us tackle Arlie to the ground.

Danvers is still cursing up a storm, Arlie is trying to shove Luther off her, but I scramble higher on top of them both and throw my weight into them. I have no idea where her gun has gone or where mine landed, but I grab Luther’s bandaged arm and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of it.