“It’s a mustang.” He releases my hand and shifts his focus to the building across the street, where the last light has finally gone out. “Not exactly inconspicuous.”
“Well, it’s what we’ve got. We all set?”
“Everything’s in place.”
“How many inside?”
He pulls a gun from the back of his pants and checks the magazine. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
He exhales, his breath creating its own white cloud, and then he falls quiet as he fidgets with his weapon.
I narrow my eyes. “What aren’t you saying?”
“There’s six,” he mutters. “Seven if you count the woman.”
My blood turns a few degrees colder. I glare at the side of his head. “ObviouslyI count the woman.”
He rolls his eyes. “I just mean we’ve got six targets. The seventh is just?—”
“A casualty?”
It’s one of those terms all these men throw around. An excuse for their violence, for all the bodies left after the smoke clears.
“Yeah,” he says. “Sometimes there has to be a sacrifice. God fucking knows we’ve done our fair share of that. And these last few months? All that’s happened back home? This is one more sacrifice I’m willing to make. It’s justice, Grace. And it’s our responsibility to serve it.”
He finally looks at me, his face etched with bone-deep guilt. He can’t help but feel it. Serve and protect. It’s been bred into him. A deep need to claim something as his own and protect it with his life. And when it’s threatened? There’s no forgiveness. Only retribution.Justice,as he calls it.
I cup his cheek, relishing his body heat. “None of this is your fault.”
“It is. We left South Bay, and then…”
And then there was blood. And bodies.Casualties of war. We left, and South Bay became a battlefield. We weren’t there to fight. And Linc will never forgive himself for that, for not protecting our town, what he lost in that fight. Whatwelost.
“This isn’t just about squaring off with Axe,” he says to me, “this is about doing what’s right. About taking out these Raider fucks for what they did. Not a single one of them gets to live. Not after…”
Neither of us can say it, so we both fall silent.
I wish I could welcome the coldness into my soul the way Linc does. Turn off the hurt, the heaviness pressing down on my chest, and let my anger consume me. It’s who Jimmy raised me to be. Cold. Cutthroat. A person who wouldn’t think twice about what we’re about to do. The lives we’re about to take.
With a breath, I run my thumb over his scar and stare into his gorgeous, hate-filled eyes. “Linc,” I say softly. “I want to end this just as badly as you do, but I won’t be like them. I will not do this with an innocent still sitting in that building. I know you don’t want that either.” I pull him closer and press my forehead to his. “Please don’t do this.”
Another body, another death on his hands. I don’t want him carrying this. When the dust finally settles, I don’t want him to have another thing to feel guilty about.
He closes his eyes and releases a long breath. “I’ll get her out. But you stay here, understand? I won’t be able to think straight if you’re in there and shots start popping off.”
Reaching over him, I grab my gun from the glove compartment. Then I sit back in my seat. “I’ll be your lookout.”
He narrows his eyes. “Since when are you okay with sitting on the sidelines?”
“Relax. I’ll be here with my right hook and my big gun if you need a rescue,” I say with a wink.
Smile splitting his face, he pulls me into a kiss. It’s rough, passionate, dominant. All-consuming. Hand tangling in my hair, another at my throat. It’s how he kisses me every time he leaves. Like it’s the last one we might ever have. And then again every time he comes back. A promise that he’ll never leave me behind.
“Stick to the plan,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Promise me.”
I sink my teeth into my lip to stop myself from arguing.
