He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, boss, you’re on speaker. We got your messages, I’ve already got two squads heading over to the Tio’s and another three mobilizing. About twenty-four guys in total.”
“ETA?”
“Ten minutes.”
That was more than long enough to put a bullet in Grant’s head, sure. But I could bet Elio was calling Andrea right now to throw a fit. I didn’t play into his hand, sniveling and begging to trade myself in for Grant, like I’m sure Andrea told him I would. Whoever his informants were, they were shit at their jobs. I may be attracted to Grant, but I wasn’t stupid enough to offer myself up on a platter only for Grant to get knocked off as soon as he walked out the door.
“I’m meeting you there. I’ll have five men with me as well.”
The call cut off with another tap and I shoved away from the desk. My body moved on autopilot, heading to the storage locker on the left wall of the office. Jerel and Taylor were alreadypulling weapons out from it and checking their safety locks before packing them into black duffel bags.
“Lore, you’re not going after him yourself are you?” Taylor asked, his voice low. "We can take care of Elio and bring Grant back, so you don't have to…" He couldn't finish the sentence. Taylor may not know all the gruesome details of my past with Elio, but I'm sure Lyre filled him in enough to know I was on a warpath when it came to him.
He watched me strap on gun holsters, throwing whatever I could grab into the duffel closest to me. The restaurant was probably too small for grenades, so I opted for several pistols and an AK-47, along with my trusty tire iron and a combat knife sheathed at the small of my back. After loading up my pouches and the bag with as much ammo as I could carry, I hefted it over my shoulder and slammed the door shut.
“You bet your feckin’ ass I’m going after Elio. Imma make him regret every breath he’s taken for the last ten years.” I yanked a pair of black gloves from my pocket and pulled them on, threading my fingers between each other to adjust the fit. “And then I’m gonna feed his son’s dick to him and see howhelikes getting fucked in the mouth.”
Despite all his posturing, it was laughably easy to take out that asshole’s security posted in front of Tio’s Eatery. One spray of bullets from the automatic as I drove by was enough to send most of them slumping to the ground. Fuckers didn’t even seem to wear Kevlar from how they dropped to the ground like dolls. My back wheel kicked up smoke when I spun the bike around and popped it up onto the sidewalk, quickly throwing the kickstand at the nearby street corner before hopping off and shrugging the gun onto my back. The entire storefront’s glasswas shattered from the drive by, giving a clear shot into the restaurant as more men poured in from a back hallway.
I barely slowed as I planted my foot against the restaurant’s door and it flew off the hinges. The tire iron I had pulled from my duffel bag swung in an arc as I rolled my wrist, just before swinging it low at the maitre d’s kneecap. It all happened in the span of a few heartbeats, but his scream as he crumpled on the ground clutching his leg was enough to announce our presence. The bulk of our attack was going through the alleyway entrance in the back to look for Grant. My job was to be as much of a problem as physically possible in the front.
It quickly became obvious the diners in the main area were staged, as just about every one jumped from their tables to pull out some kind of firearm, while the rest of my entourage came through with their guns at the ready. Elio’s men kicked over their tables, almost simultaneously, to duck behind them. Typical gangster move. The two closest men popped out from behind their cover with handguns out, and I picked up the closest pitcher of water left on an abandoned table to fling at them. The glass shattered on contact and sent them both hiding just long enough for me to sprint around and swing my iron at one of their heads like I was hitting a home run.
Crunch.
That sound would never get old. Neither would the artistic spray of blood that comes from a crushed skull. His friend sat stunned, watching the man’s brain matter fly in gloopy chunks, with eyes bugging wide and giving me enough time to pull my pistol from its thigh holster and shoot him square between the eyes.
Where the hell was Elio finding these guys? It’s like they never saw someone die before.
More yelling and gunshots from the kitchen area signaled the other Red Riot members breaking through the back. A bulletskimmed my arm—not close enough to lodge into the muscle but enough to hurt like a bitch—making me hiss and whip around with my gun raised to shoot off in the general vicinity in retaliation. The other five men were in various stages of getting wrecked by the guys I came with, leaving the one I was shooting at as the lone survivor as I stormed toward his table and knocked it into him with a brutal kick.
“You crazy bitch, I’m gonna—” The man screamed, trying to scramble to his feet with his gun in both hands.
He didn’t even have a chance to raise it when I pressed my barrel to his forehead and pulled the trigger. His head kicked back with a glorious spray of gore exploding from the back, and his limp body fell to the floor with a dullthud.
I scoffed. “Feckin' amateurs.”
“Clear! Clear!” The other two hit groups called from throughout the destroyed restaurant. From start to finish, the assault lasted at most ten minutes. I was almost insulted by the utter lack of skill Elio hired to guard Grant.
“Is he here?” My voice was little more than a growl. “Where the fuck is Elio?”
Taylor sighed and nodded to the leaders of the other Red Riot teams. “Looks like he bolted before we got here. We cleared everywhere else but one room in the back of the kitchen. That’s the last place to check for Grant. You wanna do the honors?”
I was torn. Part of me wanted to put a bullet in Grant’s head, too. The fucker was feeding information to Andrea and, ergo, to Elio. He shouldn’t have been stupid enough to get caught by the likes of that dickhead. But the other half, equally loud, gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn’t mean to cause me harm and didn’t expect Andrea to backstab me like this. Grant could even be useful in feeding bad info back to his boss, and I could take both him and Elio out in one hit.
Decisions, decisions.
“Lead the way.”
Savior
Grant
So much pain came from so many parts of my body, I was one giant, exposed nerve. Even breathing hurt from the blows to my chest, and I’m sure there were some crackedribs from the brass knuckles Elio’s goons slammed into my sides. Every single finger was broken, but thankfully they were tied tightly enough behind me to cut the circulation and, ergo, deaden that particular pain. There was no way to tell how long I was left naked in this room, but it was enough for a dull pounding to take up residence in my temples, likely from a combination of several blows to the head and blood loss. A chill had sunken beneath my skin and straight to the bone. I wasn’t even shivering anymore.
If it wasn’t obvious before, it was painfully clear now that Elio had no intention of keeping me alive.
Being left alone for this long was torture enough. Alone in my head, with plenty of time to look back on every bad decision in my life that led up to this point and no chance to outrun those dark thoughts. I knew I was a bad man. I knew I helped bad people, and there were few things in my life I actually regretted. Most of those regrets had something to do with Lore Brennan. Or Lorelai McGregor, or whoever the fuck she was today.
