Page 110 of Ash Storm

He was up a moment later, standing between Reka’s prone body and Afsan.

Surprise made the tycoon’s jaw slack, but he recovered quickly.

“I’m impressed,” Afsan said, flashing a white smile. Ash didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. He pulled the man up by the lapels of his dinner jacket, letting his fist fly at his nose. Afsan turned his head at the last instant, so the blow fell across his cheek instead. Ash felt the cheekbone crack before he heard it.

Afsan wailed. He would have fallen, except Ash held him upright and punched the tycoon again, this time in the mouth.

For Reka.

For Chloe.

For all the fucking women you’ve hurt.

He didn’t see the ice pick in the man’s left hand until it was too late. It went into his shoulder, right where he’d been injured weeks earlier.

Afsan grinned knowingly.

“How does that feel, Mr. Gunner?”

Ash grunted. He was bleeding from two places, and could feel his reflexes begin to slow down, but still he knew something Afsan didn’t know. He knew just how much punishment his body could take and keep functioning.

He heard the sounds of a scuffle behind him, but didn’t turn to look.

“Hands in the air!” a guard said shrilly. He had his back against the pool table, and his gun was trained on Ash.

Ash raised his hands.

“Good man,” Afsan said, spitting out blood and something hard that looked like a tooth. “Shoot him in the gut. I want him to have time to see what I’m going to do to the two women before he dies.”

The guard tightened his finger on the trigger—just as a bloody shadow raised itself from the pool table. Rogue smashed the ball in his fist against the man’s head, and the guard dropped like a stone.

Rogue slid from the pool table to the floor, dragging himself to Reka, where he busied himself with the ties around her arms and legs.

Ash took a look behind him, where by now Griffin had subdued the other two guards.

“You still feeling good about things, Afsan? You know what I’m going to do with you?” He cracked his torn knuckles. Warmth seeped down his arm, but he paid it no attention.

“Hold on,” Afsan said, raising his hand to his shattered cheek. He was no longer smiling, and that felt like the sweetest victory of all. “You can’t do this. I have rights.”

Ash smiled a big smile. “We’re not the police.”

Sweat poured down Afsan’s face. For the first time, he looked scared. Ash breathed in the man’s fear.

“I can cut you in on the profits,” Afsan said quickly. “We’ll sell them both. They will bring in—“

“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” Ash growled.

Not if you want to live.

They had enough to bring Afsan in. They didn’t have to kill him. But oh, how he itched to let his fists fly.

“It’s not worth it, Ash,” Griffin said. On your knees,” he ordered, his gun pointed firmly at Afsan.

Boom.

Afsan went down. A hole the size of a small coin appearing on his forehead.

Ash looked at the gun in Griffin’s hand, but Griffin looked as surprised as he did. And then, behind Griffin, stood Chloe, her hands shaking around the gun she’d picked up from the ground.