“Hey there, big guy. How are ya?” She smiled at him, just knowing whatever he tried to say behind the gag wouldn’t be complimentary. “Aw, I missed you too. How are Noel and Addy? Little Dee?”
Hammer glared.
“How about Solene and Deacon? Didn’t I call it before I left?”
He growled.
“Don’t worry. This will all be over very, very soon.”
She brushed soft hair out of his eyes, wishing he hadn’t fallen so hard, bruising himself. “Easy. Just relax into it. I don’t want to hurt you.” But she would. She’d waited too long for this. It was time. Angel and the baby needed closure. “Just think of me as an avengingangel,” she said to him, pleased to see the comprehension in his eyes.
Oh yeah, he knew what that locket had meant. She’d had a feeling. The history they shared, the memories not burned out of him. Heknew.
She stroked his head and plunged the syringe into his neck, jamming through his collar since he’d turned into the jab.
“Smart guy. Rest, Hamilton. It’ll all be over when you wake.”
She patted him on the cheek then walked out and locked the door behind her.
Deacon didn’t knowwhat the hell was going on. The minute he heard shots, he dove for Solene, tackling her to the floor. He felt a pinch along his back, reached and came back with blood on his hands.
Solene’s eyes widened. “Deacon?”
“A graze. I’m good.” But he ached. He pushed her to crawl to the closet and opened the door. “Stay here. Take this.” He put a 9mm in her hands. “It’s loaded. Just point and shoot. But not me. I’ll whistle a Looney Tune before I come back.”
She laughed a little hysterically. Bullets continued to fire into her house, through the window of his bedroom and into the walls above them. “You’re looney for sure.”
He groaned. “Looney in love.” At her wide-eyed stare, he swore. “Fuck. I meant to tell you later after I convinced you I was taking a permanent vacation with you, here. But in case this doesn’t end up a fairytale, you should know—I love you.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss, gripped her hands around the gun, then moved back. “Now shut the hell up and sit tight. I already called Hammer and Noel.” He pushed a spare cell phone at her. “Keep this just in case. Call 9-1-1 if I’m not back in twenty.”That should be long enough to take them out.
He shut the closet door and left before he changed his mind. The time had come to take out the trash. He’d been chasing ghosts for too long. Now that he had Burleigh in his grasp, no way in hell would he let the fucker go on to terrorize Solene.
Low-crawling out of the room, he stopped in the hallway and listened for movement. He’d counted five men before he’d spotted Romero Burleigh walking pretty as you please into Solene’s house. The jackass had plugged in the code and entered without a hitch.
Had Deacon not installed hidden cameras throughout the house, he might have been taken unaware. But he’d learned after the last break-in, installing the video feeds once they’d returned from Seattle.
He retrieved his cell from his pocket and opened the app, allowing him to see cam footage live. With sure footing and his favorite knife in hand, a ten-inch steel blade sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone with ease, he snuck up on the man nearest Solene’s hideout and slit his throat, a hand over the man’s mouth to cover the noise. He managed the same with two more intruders, quietly lowering them to the ground in puddles of blood.
“I know you’re there,” Burleigh drawled from the living room, his upper-crust British accent and polite manner nothing more than a smokescreen. The rapist was no better than a lowborn rat out for whatever he could get at the expense of others. Instant gratification and fuck anyone who told him no.
Deacon had never liked him. After learning about the way the monster treated women, he’d been dying to enact some justice. But Big Joe had told him no. Deacon had never understood his handler’s reasoning. And he didn’t care now. Burleigh had to go.
“Come on out and we’ll chat,” Burleigh offered, sounding amused.
Deacon glanced at the phone, saw one of the remaining intruders edging toward his position, and waited.
The man must have had eyes on Deacon, somehow, because he came around the corner shooting low and managed to get a bullet through Deacon’s thigh. But better his thigh than his heart. Deacon had jerked in time to roll away from a lethal shot, at least.
He ignored the pain in his leg, compartmentalizing so he could focus.
“You.” The bastard who’d blown dust at him on the ferry smiled. “I was hoping it was you and not your dickhead friends.”
“Like old times.” Deacon smiled through his teeth, then flowed like water, around the man’s grasping hands and through his grip. He remembered his opponent’s moves from their last altercation and was ready for him. Deacon slipped through the man’s first swing and brought his blade up under the guy’s armpit, severing his axillary artery. He watched as the fucker slid to the ground as if in slow motion. Little blood was spilled, most of it draining out inside him.
He felt dizzy, realized he’d lost a fair amount of blood, and started at the gunshot behind him. He spun, ready to throw his knife, and checked himself before nailing Violet in the throat.
He blinked. “Vi?” He saw a man behind him topple over, a gun outstretched in his dead hand.
She put a finger over her lips, nodding toward the living room on the other side of the hallway.
