“Your boss just torched a mafioso wedding,” I say. “If you’ve got any sense, you’ll get the fuck out of here.”
The redhead’s smile fades. “Just get in the van Rossi and if you’re lucky we won’t fuck your girl in front of you.”
I feel January tremble behind my back. “Close your eyes, Pryntsesa. I don’t want you to see this.”
“See what?” the redhead taunts. “Trust me, she’s gonna see plenty soo—”
The chef’s knife goes through his nose, splitting bone and skin, and cartilage. The other three guys fumble for their guns and, praying January obeyed orders, I snatch the redhead’s Glock from his holster. He blinks at me like a child in the schoolyard. I put the barrel to his head and shoot him. I kill the others in quick succession, before turning back to January, who has her hands over her face.
“Sorry,” she pants. “I should help. I should do…something.”
“You did exactly what I asked you to, Pryntsesa. Now get in the back of the van and close the door.”
She obeys and the second the van door slides shut I go to work, stripping the bodies for guns, ammo, torches, knives, phones, and keys. The redhead and I are the closest match size-wise, so I take his jacket, tearing Parker’s logo from the breast pocket. I do the same to the shortest guy, taking his cargo pants and shoes. Everything’ll swim on January, but it’s better than a fucking wedding gown and taped feet. My phone pings, another text from Eli.
You have our location pin. I’m destroying my phone. Come as fast as you can. If you can’t find us enact Firebird.
January’s waiting in the back of the van balled up in the corner with her hands over her face. I gently pull them away. “Pryntsesa, you’ve been so strong. You need to keep going. Change into these.”
I hand her the stolen clothes and January pulls them on without complaint, tears running silently down her cheeks. “Did a lot of people die in the ballroom?”
I want to lie to her, but I know better. “Yes, baby girl.”
Her mouth turns down at the corners and I curse Parker for saddling her with more survivor’s guilt. More trauma. We were trying to move her away from this, the stress, and the worry. I step forward and stroke her arm where my tattoo lies forever embedded in her skin.
“Pryntsesa, you are not allowed to burden yourself with this. Whatever happened it wasn’t your fault.”
“But Parker was trying to get to me. To hurt me. And Eli and the others—
“We don’t know what happened to them. That’s what we need to find out. You stay back here and I’m gonna drive to where they said they are.”
I give her a rough kiss on the head and climb into the driver’s seat. The traffic is insane, cops and medics and a million guests leaving and arriving at once. We crawl bumper to bumper until I can turn off onto a small dirt road that leads to Eli’s pin. I drive until the track disappears, before parking the van and getting out.
“Stay in the car,” I tell January, but the van door’s already open and she’s on her feet, drowning in the oversized bulletproof vest and jacket. Her face is set, and I know she won’t go back inside without me imprisoning her, something I’ve vowed never to do again.
We walk for five minutes with only the moon lighting the way, tripping on the uneven ground, and scanning the trees for any sign of life, friendly or otherwise. The sounds of sirens are still audible from the hotel and I’m just starting to worry the boys were found and maybe we need to return to the van when January screams. Doc, Eli, and Bobby are sitting under a pine tree, their suits torn, their faces covered in blood and dirt. But they’re all alive.
Relief hits me like a truck. January sprints toward them and Eli stands, pulling her into an embrace.
“Bella, who dressed you this way?”
“Adriano,” she says half-laughing, half-sobbing as she lets go and wraps her arms around Doc. “You’re alive! Are you okay?”
“No,” Doc growls.
“Better now,” Bobby says in a quiet voice. He’s still sitting in the dirt, his eyes glazed. A dress shirt tourniquet is wrapped around his shoulder, most of it black with blood.
“We need to go,” Eli says, snapping to action. “What did you drive?”
“One of Parker’s vans.”
Eli gapes at me. “Are you a madman?”
“It’s a long story but I don’t like it any more than you do.”
“Fine.” Eli checks his watch. “Let’s move.”
Doc and I grab Bobby by his armpits and haul him up. He sways slightly on his feet.
