Gus.
Gus.
What the actual fuck?
But Juan doesn’t answer, merely grinning at me with that fucked up, creepy smile I’ve hated from the moment we met. It’s infuriating. My free hand slides down to my thigh holster while he continues to grin at me. I could shoot him. Could blow his fucking brains out.
I don’t want to.
My fingers wrap around my tac knife. It’s got a seven-inch blade that’ll look really pretty, slicing him open.
“Why are you here?” I murmur again, distracting him. He coughs and sputters, his smile wilting a fraction when I chokehim out with the arm bar, keeping him pinned to the truck. “What do you want with us?”
Nothing.
My temper rises so high, so fast, I’m surprised I just stab him instead of gutting him. The blade collides with his stomach, and I revel in the way he grunts, slumping forward.
“Answer me!” I demand, shoving him upright as I twist the knife. “Tell me, and I’ll make it stop.”
I won’t.
Not until he’s dead.
Fuck this guy.
With a wheeze, he clicks his tongue, his eyes drifting over my shoulder. Instinctively, I follow his gaze, knowing every single person I love stands behind me, lost somewhere in the fight.
God, I hope one of the others is with Isabella.
As if conjured by my thoughts, I catch sight of her on the ground, holding a body. From across the lot, I can’t hear her, but I can tell she’s crying. Can tell she’s looking for help as she keeps her body draped over theirs. My eyes narrow, and I can make out the all-black tux that looks just like mine.
Panic surges through me, but I shove it down. I can’t afford to lose focus.
I turn back to Juan, his laughter echoing through the air, and suddenly, it all clicks.
Ella.
He’s here for Ella.
But he…Juan works for Gus.
I swallow bile as it coats my tongue and twist the blade, shoving him back further, harder. Juan gasps, his nails digging into my gut. His eyes keep flicking to the gun I knocked from his grip just minutes ago when he’d first snuck up on me, but I chuckle, kicking it away.
“Motherfucker!” he hisses when the knife shifts, tearing his flesh like butter.
“What does Gus want with her?” I practically growl, my heart hammering.
Fuck, I can barely wrap my mind around what’s happening right now.
I barely had enough time to call our guards at The Den and tell them to lock everyone inside for their safety before these fuckers were on me.
I can hear Gage somewhere behind me fighting off his own attackers. A moment ago, I spotted Stone blowing someone’s fucking head off.
Juan licks his lips, savoring the moment, the anticipation. Dangling what little information he’s probably been given over my head as though he has any fucking right to. As if he’s important. He’s not. He’s just another one of Gus’ cheaply hired hands drawn in by the notoriety the Diablos command.
He’s no one.
I don’t say that, though, not as he swallows hard and turns pale, finally understanding the severity of the situation.
