Two familiar bikes have been pulled to a stop outside the heavy wooden doors. Cruz's Eagle and Ryker's Iron 883 are so distinctive I could pick them out from a crowd of other bikes with ease. Cruz is pacing the length of the warehouse like an agitated dog, ready to be sicced on the first threat he sees. He stutters to a stop when he spots us approaching from the south.
Ryker appears to have gotten even bigger than when I saw him last. He holds the case that presumably holds all the cash from the bogus ransom demand the Hellions made. I can't believe Cruz and Ryker are acting this stupid. They have to know that the Hellions don't intend to let any of us leave alive. I can't see Ryker's face well enough to read his expression. He's got the hood of his sweatshirt pulled tight, so his face is swimming in shadow.
"Ah, Cruz, it's good to see you!" Marcus says jovially, approaching my brother with open arms.
Cruz looks unsurprised to see Marcus approaching with the enemy, and that makes me feel marginally better. Hard for Marcus to get the drop on him when he sensed the other shoe was about to slam down.
Cruz fixes Marcus with an unpleasant smile. "I knew I should have ripped your balls off when I had the chance. You never deserved Penny."
Preach, brother,I champion him silently.
Marcus feigns hurt. "Come on, Cruz. We could still be friends, you and I. We're not unreasonable. We could come to some sort of truce. This doesn't need to devolve into bloodshed."
Marcus never fucking pays attention to the glaringly obvious, because he takes Cruz's quirked brow as interest, not incredulity.
"Uh-huh?" my brother grunts. "Is that so? What the fuck do you have to offer me? You beat and kidnapped my sister. I don't play around with people who fuck with my family."
"I can get you revenge. We found her like this, Cruz. That fucker Calamity Gardel beat her, and he raped her. Even we don't condone that sort of behavior. All we propose is a brief truce. Just long enough to end the Kings. Then we can go back to hating each other. Sound good?"
Cruz glances sideways at Ryker, seeming to consider it. "What do you think of that offer?"
Ryker reaches up a gloved hand to tug his hood down to reveal...that it's not Ryker beneath the hood.
Calamity Gardel stares back at Cruz, a wolfish grin on his face. His blonde hair is damp, his pale eyes glacial with dislike, even as he smiles. The sight of him standing so near makes my stomach do a little flip, and it has nothing to do with nerves. He's here. He came for me. And if Cruz is standing so near him, he has to know the truth or is at least putting aside his hate for my sake. It almost brings tears to my eyes.
"I think they just made my point quite nicely," Calamity says coldly. "You made the same offer to me only last month, I believe. Shows how much stock I should put in the word of the Hellions, doesn't it?"
Marcus' skin has lost all color, his eyes bug with horror, and he backs a step away from the two men before him.
"This isn't fucking happening," he mumbled. "You...you two hate each other!"
"We hate you more," Cruz says, reaching to unholster his piece. "One-time alliance only, right, Gardel?"
"Right," Calamity says with a firm nod.
"There's still only two of you!" Marcus pants. "There is thirty of us! You're still dead!"
Calamity only smirks. "Want to know something, Marcus? I've found something strange in all my years in this game. No one ever looks up."
Which drags every gaze, including mine, to the warehouse rooftops. A dozen winking red lights dot the skyline. Holy fuck. Does he have guys with sniper rifles on the roof? I can practically hear Marcus shitting his pants from where I stand. That must be why he draws down suddenly, whipping the gun around in my direction, finger shoved into the trigger guard.
Calamity moves faster, even with the delayed reaction time. He has his Glock in position in a nanosecond, sights his target and fires. Marcus reels back from the force of the shot, staring dumbfounded at the hole in his chest. Red blossoms across his nice shirt, and he mouths something before collapsing.
That's when all hell breaks loose. Bodies emerge from every corner of the warehouse district. Ours and theirs. Kings, Hellions, and Spades all rush into a senseless melee, and I can barely keep track of who's who. Avis seizes my arm in a pincer-like grip and drags me in the opposite direction of the fighting. No glorious coup going on tonight, but I think she figures if she can keep me as a hostage, she'll at least be able to barter her freedom.
I stagger into her to knock her loose. We both topple to the damn pavement, her on top.
"I should just kill you," she hisses. "You ruined everything. We almost had him, you know."
I shake my head. "You would never have had him, Avis. He's a better man than that, even as a monster."
Her eyes narrow on me. "You're a fool. He's going to disappoint you. It won't end well, no matter how things go."
"Maybe, maybe not. But tonight is not going to end well for you, no matter how you slice things. So why don't you just cut your losses, Avis? I don't think you're evil. Not truly. Just hurting. So run. Live and take your chance to be better."
I think she might spit on me for a second. Then she pulls herself upright, stands, and sprints off, leaving me prone on the pavement. I lay there for a few minutes, head spinning. Gunshots are a percussive beat in the background. The cries of pain and fear are distant and almost unreal. I can feel my pulse through my entire body. It would be so easy to fall asleep.
Eventually, someone finds me. A huge, hulking shape fills my field of vision, and Calamity's beautifully sculpted face swims into view. Concern sponges away the intense anger, leaving the lines of his face looking softer.
