“Cunt,” the man grunts. I hope he doesn’t think he’s hurting my feelings. I don’t have those when it comes to outsiders. And I’ve been called far worse. If I had more time, I’d make him eat his words, but I need to stick to the plan today.
In one quick explosive motion, I spring from lying flat on my back right to my feet, over him this time. Except I pull the fucking trigger. My shot is silent, but a scatter of others ring out. I run toward the front of the container to see Paxton and his men, all with guns drawn and two bodies dead on the ground.
Damn, he looks fucking hot with a gun in his hand. I know now is not the time for these sorts of thoughts, but I can’t help it.
“Clean,” Eros says into my earpiece.
“Clean,” I repeat. A few seconds tick by, and I hear nothing. This time, that silence is deafening. I turn and bolt back toward the fence line; without having to worry about sounds, I jump from container to container. I don’t slow when I get to the last; in fact, I pick up the pace and launch myself off the side and flip, loosening my knees as I land on the ground, braced by both my feet and hands to be able to push off and keep going.
I don’t go for the hole we’ve cut. It’s quicker and closer to simply scale the fence, ignoring the jabs of the few barbs that get me. I can hear Eros’s breathing turning heavy through the earpiece.
“I’m east,” I tell Eros as I sprint across the road, not being as careful as I should be.
“Hiding” is whispered through the earpiece. Mac can somewhat handle herself, but she’s so quiet that I know she doesn’t have the ability to do anything at this moment, and we’re going in blind.
I burst through the side and up the concrete stairs.
“Third,” she whispers, letting me know the floor. I slow when I’m also there; no door has been installed yet; the floorplan opens right into the wide-open space. I step in; the only sound is of the wind blowing the plastic coverings on a few of the windows.
“They’re down!” I hear shouting over us. Mac pokes her head out from one of the rooms.
“That’s the only exit.” She points toward the stairway I just came from. It’s not. I motion for her to not move as I step back into the open space and toward the center of the room where concrete beams hold up the structure. A giant opening spans down and up; I’m guessing it’s a shaft for an elevator at some point.
When I get to the edge, I can see the next floor down too, but there isn’t time for a quick descent. Not when I have to get Macdown too. I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs drawing closer. I hold up my arm; my eyes lock right on to Mac’s.
“Run,” I order her. “As fast as you can.” She only hesitates for a second before she barrels toward me. I see the men breach the doorway as Mac’s hand wraps around my forearm. I plant my feet and swing her off the side; a guttural scream leaves as I push with all the force I can.
The sound of gunfire fills the building. Mac’s hold pulls me with her, but she lets go before taking me over the edge, where I would have flipped down the two flights to the dumpsters below. Mac lets out a yelp as she hits the second floor and rolls.
My arm burns, and I know I can’t swing myself. I push back to my feet, my eyes locking on the two men in the doorway, their guns pointed at me. I recognize one of them, and he too realizes who I am. The recognition is clear, making him hesitate, his gun dipping.
My options are limited. None, really. I step slightly back, teetering on the edge. Three stories down and not a fucking clue what’s in the dumpster, so I do the only thing I can do when Luigi Esposito makes his decision and starts to lift his gun again.
I let out a breath, relaxing my whole body as I fall backwards, wishing I’d said so much more to Paxton in that moment when I was at a loss for words. Now I have so many.
Chapter Nineteen
PAXTON
Not a clue what my girl is saying as she paces back and forth, Italian words spilling from her lips and aimed right at me. Pretty sure she’s cursing me, and I’m enjoying the ever-loving fuck out of it. I love that I draw this type of fiery reaction from her.
I’m tempted to learn the language, but that might take away the fun of it.
“Please, Mr. Monroe,” the doctor pleads with me. His Italian accent is heavy.
“What?” I ask, having all but forgotten he was here. I have a doctor of my own I could have called, but Naomi insisted on me seeing one that worked for her father decades ago. I guess he retired down here.
“She is demanding I check you over or else.” He looks both amused and worried at the same time if that’s possible.
Another rapid fire of Italian leaves her lips as she marches over toward me. “We agreed; I was checked, and now it’s your turn.” Right, that had been the agreement.
I wanted her shoulder checked. I’d watched the footage for myself and seen the way Naomi had flung Mac down to thenext floor. I’m surprised she didn’t dislocate her shoulder in the process.
It was one of the most impressive things I have ever witnessed. It wasn’t only the action. It was the level of trust the two girls shared, Mac pretty much running off the side of a cliff, trusting that Naomi had it. That’s fucking trust.
Then you have Naomi, willing to sacrifice herself. Doesn’t feel emotion, my fucking ass. Oh, it’s there, simmering, and I can’t wait for it to be unleashed all over me.
She stares, waiting for me to respond. Shit. The doctor needs me to take off my shirt, and I’m not sure it’s time to reveal more of my secrets.
