Dead on the street, Francisco had a hole in his chest where his heart used to be.
Guaranteed the fucker wouldn’t be getting back up.
Ryerson had landed on his ass beside the SUV, holding his neck in an attempt to stem the flow of blood steadily pumping through his fingers. Considering he’d ducked for cover before Francisco’s body had even hit the ground, nobody but Keenan could have made the second shot. No doubt, the sniper would have been three for three if Bodak hadn’t used Adam for cover.
Crossing the short distance to the door, Bodak punched the access code into the keypad. A buzz sounded, and a lock clicked. With his free hand, he managed to get the door open far enough for them to squeeze through. The sound of Grant Kincaid shouting Tak’s name in a desperate plea echoed off the metal walls and broke the impression of an empty cavernous space.
“Move,” Bodak said, re-grabbing Adam’s collar and shoving him forward. “Kincaid,” Bodak yelled, pushing Adam into the warehouse ahead of him and keeping his back to the wall on the right. “Give me the girl, and I’ll let you walk outta here.”
“Fuck you, Bodak. She’s already gone,” Kincaid said, his voice coming from the front left of the building. A good place for cover with the crates in the area.
“Will you just shoot him already,” Adam said.
“Hey there, Adam. Got yourself in a bit of a pickle, I see.”
“Grace,” Bodak shouted in a panic, ducking unnecessarily and tightening his grip. “Listen, bitch, I know you’re in here. You have five seconds to come out before I shoot your brother in the face.”
“Shut up, Bodak,” Grant warned.
“One,” Bodak shouted. “Two.”
“Shoot him, Kincaid. That’s an order.”
“He doesn’t take orders from you,” Gray said, stepping into a pool of light at the back of the warehouse.
“Goddamn it, Gray!” Kincaid shouted, the tension in his voice reaching Adam over Bodak’s sharp intake of breath.
Pressing his weapon under Adam’s chin, Bodak called out. “Over here, bitch. That’s it…nice and slow.” Her gaze locked on Adam, Gray kept her head up and her back straight as she came toward them.
“Now turn around,” Bodak said when she reached them. As soon as she turned her back, the prick grabbed her by her long hair, and pulling her head onto his shoulder, he caressed the side of her face with the muzzle of his forty before jamming the gun between her ribs.
Gray’s hearthammered against her rib cage, she couldn’t catch a breath, and her muscles quaked. A short greasy man, Bodak pressed himself against her like they were a stack of pancakes, his hand fisted in her hair, and his erection poking at her ass.
Hearing Adam’s voice had set Gray in motion. Keeping her brother alive had been the only thing on her mind, and after whispering instructions to Davis, she’d left him behind.
“Come on out,” Bodak yelled, and Gray could smell his fear, acrid and tinny. The sharp odor made her nose scrunch in protest. “Right fucking now, Kincaid, unless you want to watch the bitch die.”
“He’s not coming ou—” The gunshot made her yelp, her heart jumping straight into her throat.
“Stop right there.” Tightening his grip on her hair, Bodak jerked her head to the side. The bullet had missed Grant by two feet, but with the muzzle pressed against her temple, no way Bodak would miss a second time.
“Put the gun down, Kincaid.” When Grant set the machine gun on the crate beside him, Gray felt a slight release in Bodak’s body tension. “Over there.” He waved Grant to the front of the warehouse. “Back against the wall…now you.” Bodak pointed his chin at Adam, twisting Gray around so they faced the wall, the empty warehouse behind them.
By the look in his eyes, Gray was pretty sure it was the gun to her temple and not the handcuffs he wore that prevented Adam from ripping Bodak’s head off with his bare hands.
“Do it!” Bodak yanked on her hair hard, bending her neck at a sharp angle and making her cry out. Adam hesitated and then turned. When he had his back against the wall beside Grant, Bodak pushed her toward them. She stumbled then found her footing. In a second, she stood between them.
“Not the family reunion you were hoping for, is it, Adam.” His gun aimed at Gray’s chest, he turned his attention to her. “Wright has a message for you. He wants you to know, this is your fault. They’re all dead because of you. Jackson, your father, your little friend…she wasn’t part of his plan, but you know…shit happens. And by the way, Wright’s picking off the JTT one by one. These two”—Bodak waved the muzzle back and forth between Adam and Grant—“are the last men standing.”
“Bastard!” In a blind rage, Gray made to fly at him, but two sets of hands clamped down on her arms, holding her in place.
Bodak’s grin turned evil. “I don’t know what you did to piss him off, bitch, but Wright wants you to suffer before you die. So now, you get to watch your brother kick it. Kincaid too. After that, you and I are gonna spend some quality time together. And trust me, by the time we’re done playing, you’re gonna have a very intimate understanding of what it means to really suffer.”
Gray felt the marrow in her bones grow cold. Tears streamed down her face, turning the warehouse into a blur. She closed her eyes and saw their faces on the backs of her lids. Chase, Tara, Jackson, her father, all gone. Who else? Grant had been yelling Tak’s name, was he gone too? What about the rest of the team?
The pain in her chest, an open wound, rage filled the empty spaces his words had left behind. Never in her life had she wanted to see someone die at her feet. Not until this man. “Shoot him,” she yelled, unable to stop herself. Gray opened her eyes and looked over Bodak’s shoulder at the blurry figure behind him. “Shoot the fucking bastard, Davis!”
CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE
