“Baby!”
The vibrating fear in the shouted endearment almost drove Nic to his knees.Almost.But he couldn’t show that weakness in front of Vaughn.
“I love you, Cameron.If this doesn’t go my way, Aidan knows what to do.”He’d made those arrangements when he and Cam had gone public with their relationship and moved in together.One such measure included doubling the insurance on this house, which, with the amount of firepower in here at the moment, literally and figuratively, Nic deemed downright prescient.
Maybe too was this one last call with Cam, with the man who’d brought love into his life again.Who’d given him what he never thought he’d have.“I wanted to marry you, more than anything.Thank you for giving me a family.”
“Christ, baby.”Misery choked Cam’s words.“I love you too, Dominic.I need you to stall one more time today.Fight and stay alive for me.For us.”
“I’ll do my best.”He swallowed around the lump in his throat and switched up their usual sign off.“Sooner, Boston,” he said, getting a choked “Sooner, Price,” in return.
“Touching farewell,” Vaughn said once they’d hung up.
“Hope you took notes,” Nic said with as much confidence as he could muster.“Since you’re the one who’s going to be saying farewell.”He stepped forward and the extra muscle converged, blocking his path.
“Check him for weapons,” Vaughn said.“Then let him through.”
“How’d you get in here?”Nic asked as one of the goons divested him of the Beretta and gave him a full pat down.
“You’re not the only one with hacker contacts.”
Satisfied there were no other weapons on him, the goon stepped back, and Nic approached the table.He withdrew the folded indictment from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to Vaughn.
“Duncan Vaughn, you’ve been indicted by the grand jury on charges of racketeering, bank and loan fraud, witness tampering, assault and battery, conspiracy to commit murder, murder, and kidnapping.A warrant for your arrest has been issued.Your request for bail has already been denied.You will be tried, will lose, and will spend the rest of your life in jail.”
Vaughn picked up the paper, skimmed it once, then refolded it.“You know as well as I do that I have no intention of doing any of that.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Making an example out of you before I leave for parts unknown.”
Nic didn’t duck fast enough, or rather he didn’t anticipate the baton in hallway thug’s hand, extending his reach and clipping Nic across the back of his head.Nic went sprawling across the floor, barely catching himself before his face whacked the hardwood.
Feet approached, a shadow falling over him.
He grabbed the leg of the closest chair, the one that had been glued back together half a dozen times, and swung it forward.The leg cracked at the breakpoint, the bulk of the flying chair hurtling at the guy in front of Nic, sending him reeling back into the kitchen.Nic flipped to his back, clutching what remained of the broken chair leg, and jammed the pointy end into the shoulder of the other goon coming down on him.The attacker crumpled, bent in half, clutching his shoulder.Using his momentum, Nic flipped back over and scurried low, on hands and knees, into the kitchen, fleeing from the other goon who was fast advancing, weapon drawn.
“No shots!”Vaughn demanded.“He’s mine.”
Well, if bullets were off the table, Nic felt a lot better about his prospects.At least in the short term.Until the same broken chair came hurtling back at him.Too high, though, the thug anticipating he’d stand.He stayed low instead, letting the chair fly overhead and slow the attackers behind him.
“Dead end in there, Dom,” Vaughn taunted.
Technically not—he could flee through the garage door if he had to—but that was a last resort if he couldn’t make use of all the other weapons the kitchen had to offer.To help him stay alive and to help him get Vaughn.
He rocketed to his feet and swung the top oven door down, then did the same on the lower oven, creating more obstacles for the trailing attackers.That done, he spun and grabbed the cast iron skillet off the stovetop.“You really hated my father this much?”he said to Vaughn.
“He took everything,” Vaughn said, as conversationally as could be, never mind Nic was fighting for his life.“I’m returning the favor.”
“He’s dead.How will my death make the bastard any more miserable?”
“I want all trace of his legacy gone.”
Skillet in hand, Nic charged the goon blocking the knives he needed.He missed on the first swing, the guy dodging, then catching Nic in the side with one punch, in the chin with the next.The skillet, however, worked as a counterweight, keeping him from tipping backward.And when the goon aimed a right hook at Nic’s cheek, Nic blocked the hit with the skillet.
Knuckles crashed into the cast iron and the pan went flying out of Nic’s hand, smashing first into the cabinet doors, then to the travertine floor, the crack of wood and stone unmistakable.The crack of bones in the goon’s hand had been louder, though, and with him bent over cradling it, Nic rammed his elbow to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.He landed hard, the spiderweb of cracks in the floor spreading.
“I am not part of Curtis’s legacy,” Nic shouted over his shoulder at Vaughn before darting past the fallen body, arm extended for the knife block.
