Most of it isn’t mine.
That asshole should have been nicer to me.
Here’s the thing about these particular cuffs. They don’t pin my arms together like the rope did. There’s enough slack to, say, get one’s arms around somebody’s neck and pull until their eyes bulge out of their sockets. Let me not get ahead of myself. I first gave him a double punch to the nose and mouth because he deserved it. That accounts for most of the blood on my shirt and the tooth in my front pocket. Then, when he was bent over and cursing, I climbed on his back and looped my cuffed hands around his neck. At that point, I only had to lean back and wait for him to stop struggling.
Having learned my lesson, I held on for a bit longer, just to make sure I got the job done.
To be honest, I’m probably going to need a therapist after this, but I have a much clearer understanding of why the team does what it does. Whatwedo.
This man not only kidnapped and raped the two young women we rescued, but he also did the same to countless others and planned to expand his operation. It should not have felt good, listening to his final gurgling, but it did.
This whole time I’ve been thinking that I just sorta wandered into this operation, and that I’m just making the best of it. I’m starting to think that this is where I belong. At a minimum, I’ve become a helluva lot more comfortable with the morally gray.
Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Right as I’m trying to figure out how to get myself back into town before the other two assholes get back, my ears pick up on a familiar ride. About thirty seconds later, the Guardians’ SUV comes barreling down the road, screeching to a halt in front of the house. Thane jumps out of the vehicle and sprints up to me, moving faster than you’d think someone with his bulk could. Anders is not too far behind.
Thane stops in front of me, his arms flexing like he wants to bear hug me. Thankfully, he refrains. His eyes go a bit glassy as he furrows his brows, surveying my bloody shirt. Anders steps behind me, ensuring that I’m covered front and back.
“How many?” Anders asks.
Staring into Thane’s warm brown eyes, I lose track of the conversation. “Huh?” I ask, breathless, drinking in Thane’s concern and relief.
“How many people are here, Ronan?”
I blink and look at Anders. “Oh. Um. Only one dead guy for now, the two others are probably on their way back.” I turn to Thane and lean up to whisper in his ear. “This isn’t my blood."
“But your face…” he responds, thinning his lips as he tracks the bruises and slight bend of my nose.
I grin, which hurts. “Iknow. Seriously—why do bad guys keep going after my face?”
Thane growls, his body tense, looking like he wants to grab me, Tarzan-like, and drag me away from here. Again, my ribs thank him for his restraint.
“And where’s the one?”
“Huh?” I ask, still dizzy from the blow to the head. Thane’s heavy hands land on my hips, grounding me.
Anders huffs out an annoyed breath, using a hairpin to undo my cuffs. Later, when I have my wits about me, I’m definitely asking him if he keeps those on his person for just such an emergency. “Guys, focus. Where’s the one guy who was here?”
My blink function has for some reason switched from automatic to manual, but the words finally land. “Oh, uhhhh, upstairs, first left.”
Before the words are even out of my mouth, he brushes by us, barreling into the house and running up the stairs.
An impressed sounding, “Damn!” comes from the room in question, quickly followed by a muffled shot. He walks down the stairs, heavy footed, Blake’s carcass thrown over his shoulder. He walks past us, tossing the body into the back of the SUV like it’s a bag of dog food.
Jogging back up to us, Anders gives us a slightly maniacal grin. “I put a bullet in his head, just in case, but you finished the job. Most people don’t hold on long enough to actually kill the person they’re choking, and it creates problems for later. A dead bad guy is always better than a half-alive guy who can testify.”
“Thanks, I think.” I say, shrugging.
Sidenote: Fucking ouch. Apparently, my collarbone is bruised as well.
Just as I’m wondering what percentage of my body is bruised, Anders steps between me and Thane, skating his fingers along my shoulders and upper chest. “We might need further imaging around the joint, but it looks like your collarbones are in one piece.”
Thane grips Anders’ hand, removing it from my shoulder. Anders steps back between me and Thane and brings his hands to my face, examining it closely. Thane growls low in his throat. Grinning obscenely, Anders slips his thumbs on either side of my nose and makes a quick, crunchy, white-hot-agony adjustment.
Feeling faint and more than a little queasy, I lean-slash-collapse back into Thane. He holds me up with one arm, then with his free hand grabs Anders by the throat.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch him again.”
