Roman pulls his trigger, killing the first man and then it is a mess of bullets, blood, screams and whimpers and I hear it all. The secrets of those who fall fill my senses until I can make out plans, schemes, information that will be useful to our mission here and in the future. These men will not prevail. Not with the DRMC and my woman by my side. We will end this.
Marx
Roman is the devil. There is no other way to explain what I’m seeing.
“Holy fucking shit,” Chewy whispers next to me as we watch, eyes glued to the screen.
His movements are fluid, graceful even as he takes life after life, smoothly switching out clips without a pause in his killing. Out of nowhere suited men arrive and start working with White Team at corralling our enemies into the driveway where Rhodie’s team and Roman’s are methodically slaughtering our enemies. My gaze leaves Roman to scan the screens, looking formy woman. Soft, kind, pure Lovely is there on the screen, her face a mask of serenity as she pulls the trigger on a man hellbent on taking our baby girl. She looks at peace as she joins Switch and Blanche who have taken weapons from the bodies of those littering the ground.
Slumping back into my chair my hand goes to my chest, heart thundering beneath my palm, and under that a sense of pride. These people, this fucking rag tag bunch of fucked-up people have managed to cobble together a family so fucking strong that we can come together and take on a fucking army.
A voice clears from behind me and I turn to meet the eyes of Switch’s brothers. “We’re heading up to get started on the bodies. The families will be safe down here,” Marsden says.
“Elio still has three bombs left.” Riker grins and I can’t help my grin back at him. That kid is going to be a fucking menace when he’s old enough to prospect.
“Take extra arms-”
“Marx, my guy, we’re preppers. We know what to do.” Riker shakes his head at me and they move as one, not looking back.
“I kinda love this place,” Chewy says, “and I especially love this Roman. He’s like a fucking superhero!” She claps and then shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth. Where the fuck did that come from? “Oh yeah, Petrov is on the line for you. I put him on hold like, ten minutes ago. He’s still there though so must be important.”
I stare at Chewy who shrugs at me and shovels another handful of popcorn in her mouth. Picking up line one, I place the receiver to my ear.
“Mr. President, it seems I may have underestimated you and your little club.” I don’t even bother to answer. “Very well. I would like to meet. Face to face, man to man. I will be arriving in five minutes. Please make sure the way is safe and clear. I believe we have much to talk about.”
He hangs up and I turn to Chewy who smirks at me. She extends her finger and presses the “all comms” button. “Petrov will be arriving for a meeting in five. Please clear the way.”
“Oh oh, I have an idea!” Pops says giddily, before cackling. Where the fuck did he come from? We lost all comms with Red Team after the drone attack. I let out a relieved sigh, knowing my men are alright. “I need a few strong men, meet me out front.” He giggles again and I know something fucked up is about to happen.
Chapter 22
Switch
It’s macabre. It’s equal parts fucking disturbing and brilliant and I’m really, really damn glad that Pops is on our side as we watch the limousine carrying Petrov toward us rock and dip as it rolls over the bodies of the dead, laid out like fucked up paving stones.
“I don’t know if I should be disturbed or impressed,” Gallows mutters as he stares at the scene in front of us.
“Impressed son, always be impressed.” Pops slaps Gallows on the shoulder and the big man flinches slightly.
“Your people are fucked up, cousin.”
“I know. Isn't it great?” I grin.
The car rocks to a stop in front of my parents porch and a man with no neck and an alarmingly red face steps out and scuttles to the back passenger door. If I cared more about these people Iwould tell him to book an appointment at the clinic, the man is a walking heart attack. He throws open the door with a flourish and out steps the man who thinks he owns my daughter.
“I was unaware there would be a welcoming committee,” he says in the same accent as Roman’s yet somehow this one sounds smarmy. He looks around at the DRMC all waiting to eyeball the man who has brought this shit down on our family. Well, most of us. Niko, Tank and Chef are downstairs being treated for their wounds. Everyone else got patched up and is running on adrenaline until this shit is done.
“What is it that you want, Petrov?” Marx barks, hiding the fact that he too, is still injured.
“Now, is this the way to do business? Standing out in the open, with all these ears surrounding us?” He gestures to the full force of the DRMC and none of us move a muscle. Fuck him. He wants to talk? Then talk.
Marx stares at him until Petrov’s hand twitches. That is all the tell he’s going to give us, but it’s enough to tell me that he’s nervous. And so he should be. He drove here over the bodies of men hired by him and his shitty business partners. Marx’s gaze catches mine and I nod once.
“Follow me.” Marx says, turning on his heel and leading Petrov into the house, heading for the dining room.
We all wait, lining the porch steps. I snarl at him as he moves past me. Rhodie lunges at him causing Petrov to squeak and flinch and I know we’ve got him. There isn't a thing this piece of shit can say or offer that will have him walking out of here alive. The only question I have is will Chewy be giving him special hospitality, or will he die in Momma’s dining chair?
The DRMC swallows him up as he walks into the house, and I know having so many of us at his back has him sweating. It probably doesn't help that this whole time Damian has been smarting off. I don’t blame him, he was in the bunker protectingour most precious assets - women, children and the injured, so he probably has pent up adrenaline running through his giant body.
