“I’m usually a few buildings away when I finish my jobs,” he spat.
Tucker looked at me, an apologetic smile on his face. “Forgive him.”
“Hired a hit man to do your dirty work?” I drawled, clicking my tongue. “How big of you.”
Tucker’s smile slowly faded away. “What did you just say?” he murmured coldly.
Now it was my turn to smile. “You heard me.”
“Doss, you’re tied to a chair,” he lifted his gun off the table, “I have this. Let’s not forget that.”
I pursed my lips, nodding. “Yeah, and in half an hour, you’ll be in the chair, I’ll have the gun,” I tipped my head to the masked man, “and he’ll be dead.”
A laugh, sickening and twisted echoed through the air, bouncing off the metal walls as Tucker threw his head back. “Oh god. God, how I’ve missed that fucking cockiness of yours, Doss!” He stood up, gun in hand, loosely waving it around. “I’ll tell ya, you’re a breath of fucking fresh air. My last job wouldn’t stop fucking screaming—and don’t get me wrong,” he grinned, a prideful gleam in his eyes, “I love it when they scream, but I needed to get some information first.”
Sighing, I looked over to the exit door in the distance. “Are you going to kill me or what?” My eyes slid back over to them, bouncing back and forth. “You’ve had plenty of time.”
“Yeah, I’m just waiting for you to beg for it.”
I nodded, playing along. “When did Nightshade reach out to you?”
Tucker came to stand in front of me. “Why would I tell you that?”
“Because you’re an egotistical bastard,” I deadpanned. Pain radiated through my cheek, and I felt my skin split open. I bit down, grinding my teeth.
Don’t get up.
Don’t get up.
Don’t get up.
Angel was safe. I knew it in my gut. My team had her. They would come for me.
Get fucking answers first.
“I said you were a breath of fresh air, not that you could insult me.” He sighed, sounding disappointed. As I righted myself, he took his seat in the old metal chair and propped his feet up on the table. I watched him as he ate a few more grapes. He brokeeye contact first, looking at the masked man. “Go shoot him in the foot if you’re bored.”
“You’re into torture now?” he asked in disbelief. “I thought you didn’t like to leave a mess.”
“I don’t, but this is Ash Doss. Decorated American hero.” Tucker pointed his gun at me, laughing. “All that hero shit and look where you are now.”
I have stared down the barrels of over one hundred guns in my time, and each time, I allowed a sense of dread to take over. Not this time. I stared back at the weapon, knowing he wouldn’t fire. It took me all of three minutes to clock his shit. Tucker wasn’t going to kill me. He may hurt me, torture me, but he wasn’t going to kill me.
Whoever had a bounty on my head wanted me alive.
I tilted my head to the side, looking around the gun and at Tucker’s scarred face. “How much does your boss want for my head?”
“Aren’t we curious,” he teased, dropping the gun back on the table. It landed with a hard clank. The masked man jumped. My eyes went to him, and he moved away from Tucker, his fingers flexing at his sides.
He was nervous.
“Rom, seriously,” the man hissed. “Let’s just get the job done.”
Tucker stopped chewing, glaring at the man.
I wiggled my wrists a bit more. “Rom, huh?”
Tucker ignored me, keeping the good side of his face toward me as he slowly raised the gun to the masked man. “You’re bothering me.”
