Not bothering with makeup, I go to the closet and pull on panties and a simple black sports bra, then a snug black tank and black tactical pants. Is it weird that I own tactical pants? Maybe. But they’re comfortable, and they have a ton of pockets, so I can hide weapons in them.
I lace up my black high-top Chucks with black laces and then reach for the black belt bag that I use across my body and tuck my small pistol inside, along with some necessities.
After sliding switchblades into two of my pockets, I look in the mirror and grimace.
I look like I’m trying too hard.
Or like I’m in a bad action-adventure movie. Or like I’m trying to be Lara Croft.
But I’m comfortable, I’m armed, and I’m ready to find Rosie.
I’ve never needed to own a car in Vegas. I’ve always used a rideshare, and I do the same now, but I put the destination address in as four blocks away from where I’m really going, and I’ll walk the rest of the way.
Fuck, my hands won’t stop shaking.
I don’t even know if she’s here. But I have a feeling about tonight. That this is going to change everything.
Please, let her be here.
Thirteen
MATEO
Bobby, my guy covering Violet, texts me, but I don’t bother to read it right now because we’re about to go into this warehouse and kill some motherfuckers.
“Movement inside,” Rome says in our comms. He’s up on a roof nearby, sniping. Rome is a master marksman. He never misses. “I see twelve girls, all tied up along the back wall. Six men. But there’s a room off to the right without a window, and I can’t get eyes in there. No sign of D.”
Of course Damien isn’t here.
My phone starts to ring silently, just giving me a light buzz in my pocket, and I exhale, ignoring it.
I need you to be okay for the next hour, Savage.
Suddenly, before we can make our way inside, more cars pull up to the building. Eight of them, to be exact, and four men come pouring out of each to head inside.
“Who the fuck are these assholes,” Carson growls.
“Suits,” Rome replies. “Buyers maybe. A few goons. Damien’s not with them.”
“That’s thirty-fucking-two more men to get through,” Julian says, cracking his neck. “Good thing we brought the army.”
“Adjustment,” I say, opening my comms to the whole team. We have fifty men here between all of our armies. “Team A, it’s your job to get those girls out unharmed. Everyone else in there can die for all we care.”
“Except Damien,” Carson adds. “If he’s there, he’s mine.”
“Roger,” the team leaders reply, and I see a figure run next to the warehouse. It looks female to me.
“Rome, who’s at the side of the warehouse?”
“Can’t tell.”
I have a bad fucking feeling.
“I want that one for questioning too,” I say, and then we spread out, ready to go to war.
Fourteen
VIOLET
