Aoife’s gone uncharacteristically silent.
“What’s in it?”
“Succinylcholine,” Reed says, blindly reaching for it.
Damn. He keeps his focus on me and the gun.
“English, Reed. If you’re going to kill me, at least have the courtesy to tell me how.” She coughs, then rattles her wrists in the chains.
He snickers. “It’s a neuromuscular blocker. Should take effect in thirty seconds or so. It’ll work fast. The body likes to metabolize it quickly. You’ll be unable to move for five to ten minutes.”
She swallows. “Now would be the time to do something, Grayson.”
Reed stiffens, tightening his grip on the gun.
I grimace, but shrug. “Why would I?”
Tears well in her eyes as she wrinkles her nose in disgust. “I thought …”
Reed chuckles. “You were just a piece of ass. Grayson knows what we deal with. He’s smart. Aren’t you?”
My patience is wearing thin. I need him distracted so I can rush him, but he’s not giving an inch. If I could guarantee a quicker draw, I could do something, but?—
Reed grabs the syringe and approaches Aoife. I jerk to make my move, but the needle grazes her skin. Hell.Keep it together. Stay calm, I coach myself.
He smooths his palm over her wet lashes. “Shh. It will be over soon. Then I can get to work on continuing to eliminate the rest of your organization. One. By. One.”
She spits, the wad landing on the side of his nose. Panic sets in, and wild, she thrashes.
I study the needle poised to break her skin at any moment. I can’t look away.
I haven’t been able to look away since she rode up on Finn’s crime scene. Hell, I’ve fallen so hard for this woman. I want to be a safe spot where she can breathe, where her anxieties are put to rest. I want to endure life with her. Her life. I don’t want her eliminated; I don’t want anyone eliminated, crime family or not.
I can’t wait any longer.
Reed’s gaze flicks to her face, and it’s in that split second, I react. I launch forward before he can plunge the syringe, and swing to lock his arm. He tries to turn, but I slam into him full force. The syringe topples onto the table, and Aoife lets out a “Shit” as I drive my shoulder into Reed’s side and fling us forward a couple feet into the wall.
“Grayson!” Aoife’s words echo, and the chains rattle as I wrestle Reed.
I hold his hands with my one of mine, and reach for my gun with the other, but he grabs for me, fisting my jacket. When my fingertips finally graze my weapon, I pull it as he drives an elbowinto my ribs. I grunt, and the gun falls and skitters across the floor.
Without thinking, I let go of him to scramble for the gun, but it allows him to twist and land a punch to my nose. Pain explodes across my face. My head snaps back so hard my teeth clack together, and a white blur floats over my eyes. Warm blood gushes down and inches over my upper lip, the metallic taste fueling my need to end him.
Can I really end him? My partner.
I struggle to breathe, but through the ring in my ears, my pulse pounds around Aoife’s next scream of my name.
Reed snarls. “Really, Grayson? Them? You’re going to defend her!”
I’m done listening. My fist connects with his jaw, and the crack reverberates through my knuckles. His head snaps back against the concrete covered in newspaper clippings of the Boston killer. His eyes roll back, and he flops to the floor.
I stay there for a moment, staring at him. This partner I’ve had for several years, the man I’d get coffee with, spend long weekends sequestered in our office, or ride the streets of Boston with. Crouching over, I find his chest rising and falling. He’s only knocked out.
He looks so normal, so average.
I snigger internally. I said the same thing about Aoife. So normal—you’d never know meeting her on the street in another city she was the leader of the Irish Mob. Same with Reed. You’d never know he was capable of murdering other human beings in cold blood.
Aoife’s voice snaps me back. “Grayson, are you okay?”
