“What’s the plan, Prince? Looking to come back, pick up a few dates?”
I cock the gun and don’t give into the bait even as my ire rises.I will never go back to that.“No, actually,” I comment, grabbing the spare set of keys in full view. Tossing it, I’m disappointed the set doesn’t hit him in the face. “You’re going to open the doors.”
His partner takes a step forward and my finger pulls the trigger. I’m not playing games tonight.
I only need one of them to open the door.
Thank God I put my silencer on.
His body dropping though, is loud enough to alert someone to my presence. He smacks the desk, flinging stacks everywhere. Jesus, it sounds like an elephant falling. Couldn’t he die quieter?
Stepping into the hall, I look around, listening. Knowing Roman, he’s got more security hiding around somewhere. Nothing stirs and I make my move.
Grabbing the still-living guard by his lapels, I shove him to the front, gun pressed to the back of his neck. He snarls at me, “You’re going to regret it.”
“And you’ll be dead by the time I’m gone.” I shrug, pushing him. “Not much to regret, really.”
He tries to push me off but I hold tight. “Bruno should have sold you off sooner.”
That earns a pistol whip to the back of his skull. The crack echoes in the hall and I laugh.God, I love that noise.
“Probably,” I agree. “But, hey, hindsight is twenty-twenty.”
Cursing, he takes the keys and opens the closed door. Women are separating the drugs into plastic bags, dressed in bikinis of mismatched underwear. There’s only four of them, but the banquet tables are covered in boxes of freshly made neon green pills.
“Anyone else in here?”
The women shake their heads, watching their captor become the captive. “Get out then. Unless you want to end up like him.”
Dressed in nothing but skimpy underwear, I have a moment of reflection. They’ll freeze like that, and as much as it isn’t my problem, I make it. Gesturing to the dead man behind me, I instruct, “Take his clothes. And here.” I strip my hostage of his jacket. “It’s cold outside. They won’t need them.”
The women hurry, used to moving in rushed situations. They don’t bother looking at the guard, holding the clothes to their chests and run for the exit.I ran just as fast.
“See how they run away and don’t bother helping you?” I mock. “It’s because you’re a bunch of monsters, better suited to death than life.”
“They’re bitches.Bitchesdon’t care about anyone but themselves.”
Another hit to the back of his skull and he drops to his knees. I almost feel sorry for him.
“You make it that way,” I remind him. “Treating them as nothing more than beaten dogs, they’ll revert in order to survive.”
I pick him up and slam me into the last door. “Final room.” At this point, my concern is low for an attack and I need to move. It’s taking too long and I’m wasting time.
There are still hours left to hit a few more places.I can win this.
I don’t touch the knob before bullets start flying, pelting the man through the wood.
He makes a great shield, but unfortunately, the door splinters right away, and I quickly catch the glint of three guns pointed at my face. Dropping, I let them get a few more rounds off, using my barrel to press in the places the wood broke.
I squeeze one bullet, hitting someone low. Probably a knee, maybe a thigh, I don’t care. All that matters is the body drops and the bullets lessen.
Reaching higher, I release a few more, only one hitting something soft judging by theoomphof someone collapsing. The bullets pause and I do a quick glance through the hole. Two bodies are down, only one standing, replenishing his lost rounds.
Adrenaline spiking, I pounce. Pulling the trigger, I release three bullets hitting the man’s chest. He rocks back, slamming into the table of chemicals and products, grabbing anything to stay upright. It’s a comically poor attempt of a man falling in a western gun fight. He had more potential than that.
Shoving the dead guard, I kick through the wooden door, pieces flying. I stalk inside, eyes quickly scanning the room. Seriously? Six guards. We have more onThe Wharfand it just houses bodies, a dusty filing cabinet and booze.
A sharp sting rips into my calf as a bullet fires from a chamber, and I’m thrown forward into the table. Breaking through the plastic, I shout out as everything collapses under my weight.Fucking hell, I’ve been shot.
