With my hand still clasping the handle of the knife, I wrench upward until I hit sternum. He cries out in agony, and blood bubbles out of his mouth as he gurgles in pain. Rising to my knees, I pull the radio from his hip and take the leather strap from my hair to tie down the talk button. Rising to my feet and clipping the radio to my belt, I grab my knife from the man’s chest and secure it back at my hip.That reminds me, I need to get my axe. Lots of work to do with that one.
Whoever is on the other end of this radio can hear their friend gurgling blood and being dragged by the hair across the driveway. They can’t respond, and I don’t want to be heard just yet. I’m setting the scene. Dramatic effects accomplish so much in situations like these. Little time is spent positioning the man until I have him sitting up against the car that the first three were huddled next to, but he still paints quite the picture there with all the blood and the petrified look in his eyes.
Now here’s where it really gets bloody, but I need this guy to squeal. I reach inside the hole I’ve created in his torso and just grab the first thing I feel there. It’s...intestine. It’s always intestine.When he sees what I’m holding, he delivers fantastically on the squealing. He’s bled a lot, so I’m pretty impressed with the volume he reaches.What’s a man to do, though, when he sees his small intestine wrapped around the arm of the man who just created a cavern in his gut? Scream.That’s what you do in this situation. Reaching back in, I find a...liver. These things are so ugly.They’re just so dark and the texture is off-putting.
My co-star here is still screaming, but he’s lost that gumption that he had originally. It’s more of a loud sob at this point, and even that is fading as the ground around him becomes increasingly more saturated with his blood.
Removing the strap from around the radio, I speak one last time to the man before me.
“You chose the wrong job this time, friend. I do appreciate you playing your part well for me though. Mighty fine of ya.” The bullet I put through his skull is a mercy. At least he doesn’t have to be alive when I take my trophy. Dipshit number three didn’t seem to like it too much.
Chapter 23
Chase
He’s here. And the mother fucker isn’t even trying to go unseen. He wants me to know he’s here. The idiot fuck is about to get what’s coming to him.
Doug’s screams were horrific. I’ve never heard anything quite like that. It accomplished exactly what that piece of shit meant for it to, I’m sure. Most of my men inside looked stricken until I forced them to change their radio channels and behave like men. There are eight of us in here, for fuck’s sake, and these guys are the actual professionals. He’s one man, and we know he’s outside. How he hacked into our security feed is still a mystery, but it won’t be for long. He’s already reaped all the advantage he’ll get from that. My regular security team outside should’ve been paying attention and not relying on the cameras. They deserved their fate.
This house has too many entry points to secure them all. Plus, we’ve learned from the mistakes of the idiots outside. He may be able to best two or three private security guys at a time when he has the element of surprise, but no way can he down seven trained killers who know he’s coming.
We’re all in the grand entry and fairly spread out so that we can see all entry points to this specific area. From this position, I can exit through the front door, through the kitchen, and out the back, or I can go upstairs where I have the hostages.
Those idiot fucking friends of Vaughn have no idea what’s in store for them once we’ve rid ourselves of Elijah Washington. They nearly helped Vaughn escape that apartment. That’s why we have them separated now. She would’ve succeeded in the escape if she wasn’t so fucking stupid. She just had to get some punches of her own in. She never has had great impulse control. Too bad for her that she attempted to make a fool of me. She’ll watch me torture her friends before I give her the relief of death. No one challenges a Sheridan. She should’ve known better.
“What’s he waiting for out there?” Jack, the former Marine turned gun for hire, sounds impatient. Not scared, just tired of waiting. That’s good. None of them wear the wary expressions from earlier.
He’s right, though.What’s taking so long?The security cameras are still on the same loop that this prick put them on. It looks like all the men outside are still alive and repeating the same tasks over and over. He’s out there, though. Somewhere. There’s no chance he’s left, and I don’t want him to. He’s exactly where I want him to be. We baited him, and I’m actually surprised that he came alone. I gave him way too much credit in the strategy department.What kind of soldier has the nickname Post Man, anyway? Did he deliver mail?
These men inside with me are all ex-military and special forces. For him to come here alone to face seven men who are his equal, plus my five guys outside, is the pinnacle of stupidity and arrogance.
“He’s not waiting. He’s amping up the pressure. He wants us to sweat. This isn’t new for us. We know these tactics. Be ready for anything.” Joseph has always seemed to be the leader of this team. The seven of them came as a package deal and were highly recommended by my uncle.
“Jack, go check on the girl. Something feels weird here.” Joseph raises his gun slightly but doesn’t aim it. He’s walking slowly around the perimeter of the mostly open entry area.
Just as Jack has made it to the bottom of the stairs, music starts blasting from every corner of the house. It’s a blaring whisper at first.The fuck?
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
“The son of a bitch is in the house! Eyes up! Fingers on the trigger!” The music continues to permeate the air while Joseph shouts orders to the other men. Jack has stopped his ascent of the stairs, and he’s looking around the room with his gun aimed everywhere and nowhere.
Panic and fury rise in my chest, clogging my throat. I’m going to kill that bitch and her psychotic boyfriend. My mind is racing with decisions and possible outcomes. Keeping Vaughn alive was smart. She’s a tool to use against him. The music is making it hard to think.
Two, nothing wrong with me
Three, nothing wrong with me
Four, nothing wrong with me
“Someone turn that fucking music off!” I bark the order, knowing that someone will have to leave the room to obey my command. I just can’t think with it rattling my brain. It’s quickly fraying my nerves.
There’s an earth-shattering crash in the den, and we all turn that way, readying for him. For Elijah. He doesn’t come. Instead, there’s another loud sound rivaling the decibels of the music. It’s a horn. A car horn.
