23
ANT
“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” I say quietly.
“Shut. Up.” The guy grunts, driving with his knees at top speed while reaching across to the glove compartment and fishing out a stained packet of…something.
Using his good hand, he rips the packet open with his teeth, getting half of the enclosed white powder in his mouth. Cursing and spitting, he shakes out what’s left of it over his wounded hand.
Huh. Clotting powder. Smart.
Gotta say, I’m impressed with the knee-driving.
Unfortunately, his hand is still a dripping mess. Since I don’t want him to bleed out at ninety miles an hour, I search the nasty glove compartment and pull out another wrinkled packet—an out-of-date BleedStop covered in whatever died in there—and rip it open, pouring it over his wound.
Cursing, he gingerly grabs the wheel and course corrects right before we fly into the berm, still spitting white powder on himself.
“Don’t fucking think that will get you any pity, whore.”
Aw, just when I thought we’d be friends.
“That’s okay, amigo. I don’t need your pity, especially since I plan on killing every single one of you.”
The eight-fingered man snorts in disbelief as he calls his buddies. It appears I’ll be going to my grandfather’s compound—the place where my entire life went to shit—after all. Since the guy didn’t kill us or even stop for a Band-Aid, I’m guessing he’s following orders to bring me in alive as quickly as possible.
Just a guess, but I suspect they’re going to try to make an example of me.
And-or resell me.
How quaint.
For the record, I did not want to come here. I wanted to let it go. I wanted to begin a life outside of murder, yet this man is dragging me straight toward it. So, I let him. I was even nice and gave him a warning, which he decided to ignore.
Pity.
You see, I already ran the numbers on my grandfather’s compound. Even though I decided on peace, I still created the logistics for taking it down. If my boyfriend isn’t too upset, he’ll remember to check the emails, where he’ll find that the back entrance is more difficult to breach than the front. Which means his best bet is to bust right in through the front gate.
It’ll be a big, dramatic gesture, to be sure, but I’ll have killed everyone by then. Except my grandfather.
I’ll let Erik take care of him.
That might surprise him, but I’m telling the truth when I say I don’t want to do this anymore. Honestly, I’d rather not kill anyone, but they tried to take Gael, and they’ve made it abundantly clear there will be no peace while they live. They—whoever they are—brought this on themselves.
The driver shifts his jaw as he hangs up, frustrated. Totally valid, given the state of his hand.
“Why do you think everyone is going to die?” he finally asks.
“Aside from the minimum two satellites tracking us and the fact my boyfriend is currently making plans to bring down an army on your heads, you’ve kidnappedme,of all people. Objectively,thatwas your biggest mistake.”
He turns, his eyes taking in my small stature. He doesn’t see what the years of pain turned me into. He doesn’t see the carefully designed muscles. He just sees a little man. Maybe even a kid.
Hell, even after I violently defended my cousin—who was doing a kick-ass job of defending himself, by the way—this maimed asshole hasn’t even bothered to tie me up or check me for weapons. I’m just sitting here in the passenger seat with my seat belt on and my hands in my lap.
And he’s going to die because of his assumptions.
Refocusing on the road, he asks, “Why is that my biggest mistake? Who are you?”
“My friends call me Ant, and your mistake is that I would rather die than be pulled back into this life. Which makes me a very, very dangerous person.”
