Roman likes to say I hide behind skirts to solve my problems, yet here he is, using women’s backs to advance his business.I can’t wait until I can kill him.
Slinking through the shadows, I keep my footsteps light. They’re investigating her, asking for the cover story they prepared.
My hand grabs my knife, the thick blade heavy. A quick strike to the guard’s side punctures his lungs, and he drops to the ground, wheezing. His partner turns, hand on the hilt of his gun. The knife goes cleanly through his throat, piercing the Adam’s apple, halting all speech.
Twisting the blade for good measure, I pull it out, watching him fall to his knees before his face hits concrete.
“P-please,” she stammers, knees shaking. She’s barely older than my sister and she’s lived a hard life already. “I’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t kill me.”
Sighing, I wipe the blood off the gasping guard’s jacket, kicking him away. The sooner he dies, the sooner I can move on. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then what?—”
“You’re one of Bruno’s girls?” She freezes, hesitantly nodding. “Fine. Head to Boston Mass General. Ask for Collins O’Brien in the ER. She’ll patch you up and get you help.”
Collins should be working one of her clinicals right now. She’ll take care of her.
“O’Brien?” She shakes her head, lips pouting. “No,no. If I go to an O’Brien, Bruno will know. He’ll kill me.”
“He’ll kill you if you stay.” I slip off my leather jacket, putting her arms through it. “Go see her. Give her my jacket. She’ll know you’re being honest.”
Swallowing, she nods, lost to her thoughts. “You’rehim, aren’t you?”
“Who?”
Glassy hazel eyes blink at me. “Theprince. Roman’s brother.”
Clenching my jaw, I push her toward the shadows.Fucking Linwood.That nickname has haunted me for years.
“Go.Now.”
Once she’s out of eyesight, I pull the door she came out of and enter.
29
HAYES
The room’s empty.
I look behind crates and various doors, making sure not to miss a body hiding in the shadows. Other than a few items, it’s nothing more than a storeroom. If I know anything, the pills are further back, behind the working kitchen.
Bruno is so predictable.
There’s nowhere I can hide, so I keep to the wall, using my ears to judge where everyone is. There’s only a few muffled voices, but I hear the shuffling of feet, the flipping of paper.
They’re in the middle of counting for the night.
At the end, there are three rooms, with two doors closed and one open. Glancing inside, I see two men doing the counts of the nights, heads bent down. Maeve and I were here not too long ago, two dirty kids oozing blood from rough nights of territory disputes, forced to tally the night’s profits so as to check for any skimming atThe Wharf.
I take out my gun and step into the doorway.
“Up.”
The men are young, and not quite jaded by this world. With dark eyes and hair, they’re Bruno family cousins.
They stand as one, both hands up. There are thousands of dollars on the desk, a high-tech safe behind them, open and stuffed full of bills. There’s a black duffle bag at their feet, and I know it’s full of money too.
They must have brought in other business tallies to this place. If I can take this bakery down, I’ll make a dent in Bruno’s pockets. Grinning, the hum of retribution sings in my veins. Not too bad of a start to the night.
