The guy in the middle scoffs. “Do I look stupid to you?”
Dorran clicks his tongue. “Positively, yes.” He quickly pulls his switchblade out of his pocket, and the blade all but glints against the hovering moonlight. “And you’re about to find out just how much of a dumb fuck you are for evensuggestingI leave Cignette with you.”
The men step forward, and I brace myself for what’s about to happen.
46.
The sound of muted gunshots hits my ears, just as I drive my switchblade into one of the thugs’ eyes. I kick his screaming ass off, and he lands on the ground with a sick crunch, writhing in pain. Wiping his blood off my jaw with the back of my hand, I pocket my switchblade and turn around before raising my arms at Varsha, who has got her brand new 9mm – suppressor in place – angled at the men Alex and Jayce are dealing with.
“Why the fuck would you do that?” I ask her, then groan when my right boot presses against the blown-out brain of one of the guys she’s shot. His head is cracked open, and he’s bleeding a goddamn river. It’s flowing down the cracks in the ground in an almost mesmerizing stream, and it takes great effort for me to look away from his vacant eyes, but I manage to do it anyway.
“What, making quick work of these assholes before the cops come on their usual nighttime rounds and end up finding us here?” Varsha retorts.
She’s right. If the deputies or the sheriff witness us in this situation, ChaseandSolo will have a hard time getting us out of this mess. And, if theydodecide to persuade the law in our favor, it’ll put them both in dangerous and compromising positions – something neither of them can afford.
“Well, when you put it likethat…” I glance sideways, and find Jayce all but breaking a guy’s neck with how hard he’s choking him with his curb chain. And, let me add by saying how much he seems to be enjoying himself whilst watching the life dim from said guy’s eyes.
Someone screams, and I whip my head to where Cignette is. She’s holding onto a pole for dear life, trying to avoid getting blood on her heels, all the while watching Alex smash a thug’s skull with his hammer with stark fascination on her face.
“Why are you screaming?” he asks her, then brings his hammer down on his victim again. The poor fool’s face splits open in two while his body continues to jerk, and I can see the very muscles of his cheek from how beautifully Alex has broken him.
“You almost got chunks of brain on my dress,” Cignette argues. “And this is a pretty special one, too. It’s one of Julian’s originals!”
Alex huffs and steps away from the battered dead body. “Wait, who’s Julian?”
She rolls her eyes. “Forget I said anything.”
“Ledge, behind you!” Jayce calls out.
I pivot on my feet and grab the wrist of the guy who was about to – or had planned to, at least – stab me in the back. He’s the one who’d warned me to stay away from Cignette, and to leave her here for his client.
Perfect.
His knife falls to the ground as I twist his arm behind his back. “Seriously?” I spit the question at him, then kick him in the shin to get him to fall on his knees, but he ends up elbowing me in the ribs, taking me off my game. I let go of his wrist as the wind is knocked out of me, and when my crew starts making their way to me, I raise a hand to stop them.
The guy turns to face me and goes in for a punch, but I duck in time, then clock him in the groin.
He howls and bends over in pain. “Fuck you,” he grunts.
I grin, then fist the collar of his hoodie, because there’s nothing else on him for me to hold onto; the fucker’s bald as an ass.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not into street filth.” I knee him in the face, making him stumble away from me.
He recovers quickly, though – his nose now bloody – then brings a left fist forward, and as soon as I move to block it, he uses his other fist to punch me in the jaw.
Razor-sharp pain shoots through the lower half of my face, and my ear, and I shake my head to get rid of the wave of dizziness that clouds my vision.
“Nice,” I say, and when Baldie tries to come at me again, I slip to the side, then jab him in the ribs.
He doubles over at the impact, and I use that as an opening to punch him in the face, then deliver an uppercut to his throat.
He gasps and clutches his chest, then coughs and falls to his knees. I’m about to retrieve my switchblade so that I can put an end to him, but Jayce’s words stop me from doing that.
“Ledge, wait. He’s the only one left.”
I give him a quick look, then sniff and settle down on a clean spot next to one of the dead bodies so that I can catch my breath. Straightening my legs out, I press my palms behind me on the ground, then lean my weight against them.
Jayce comes to stand behind Baldie, and I cock my head to the side as I study the latter. He looks young – maybe in his late twenties – and has aged scars peppering his face and neck. The circles around his eyes are prominent, and his drooped lids indicate that he probably uses, or drinks often.
