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But Mario looked over his shoulder before I could finish getting my arms in front. Rage flashed across his face. In two steps, he was at my side, his gun drawn. The tip of the barrel dug into my temple, causing my chest to heave. I wasn’t scared of death. I’d always figured my life on this earth would be cut short because of my profession. But I was livid. Livid at the fact that I’d yet to kill Mario, livid that I would die on the floor, restrained, and livid that Mario was about to take my chance to look into a pair of soulful green eyes one more time.

“All you had to do was obey!” he screamed—the strings of his sanity unraveling.

My retort fell away when the sound of my name being called reached my ears. Mario’s head snapped to the opening at the same time mine did. The guard poked his head into the hallway, assessing what was happening outside the room.

“That biker guy is coming, boss.”

My heart skipped a beat at those words before plummeting into my stomach. My emotions were at war, not knowing if I was elated or terrified that Gunner was here. Mario’s crazed eyes met mine, and panic set in at my gut.

“Well, Muñeca, what a perfect punishment for you. Knowing your lover is about to meet his demise while you are trapped in this room.”

A guttural yell left my lips, but it was short-lived as Mario brought the butt of his gun down on my head, sending me sprawling back to the floor. Thank Santa Muerte the asshole didn’t know how to knock someone out properly.

I scrambled to get back up and reach him before he got to Gunner. But the door shut as I reached it, and I heard Mario attempt to set the lock, but it never engaged. My teeth ripped on the end of the zip tie, pulling it tight enough to cut into the skin of my wrist. Breaking zip ties was a bitch, but the pain didn’t register with the adrenaline coursing through me. Thrusting my elbows backward, the momentum and my body broke the plastic constraints.

“Nice job, bitch.” A familiar voice sounded from overhead, causing me to scowl in confusion. “Now get your ass to the cargo bay. Your man needs some help, and I would hurry if you want to take care of Mario before the authorities do.”

“Scar?” I asked.

“Yup. Your man called in a favor. Now get going,” she answered over the speakers.

I reached for the metal handle.

“Oh, and Ryan…don’t be too hard on him when you find out the truth…”

Ryan

I didn’t have time to ask what she was talking about. Sprinting down the abandoned hallway, I followed the sounds of men shouting. Their voices were muffled by gunfire. Good thing I knew the club like the back of my hand because it was hard to see through the foggy haze that hung in the air. I crouched at the end of the hallway, wanting to get a feel for everyone’s position. In front of me lay one of Mario’s men. The bullet hole directly between the eyes brought a smile to my face as I crept forward to inspect the handgun lying by his side.

“Dammit,” I mumbled.

One round in the chamber and an empty magazine. My hands searched his still-warm body for more weapons since the ammunition supply was shit.

“Thank Santa Muerte you carried a knife too,” I whispered, shoving the blade into my waistband as I poked my head around the crate. A flash-bang or smoke bomb must’ve been detonated because it was like trying to see through mud. Shouts rang out in Spanish from my left, giving me a good indication of where Mario’s men were hunkering down. But it was a hunch. I didn’t have time to sit around and contemplate my next move, so I took off toward the shouting. No one was expecting me, making me the perfect hunter. I switched out my gun for the blade, its weight bringing me comfort.

“Mierda. Este gringo es como un segador,” they shouted.

I quirked an eyebrow at the two Los Muertos members crouched behind a shelving unit. A reaper. It seemed Gunner or whoever was making quite the impression. But they should’ve been paying more attention because they were about to be killed by an entirely different reaper.

Silently, I shot forward.

The sounds of choking filled the space. Over my victim’s shoulder, I watched the next man’s eyes widen in surprise and horror as he watched blood leak from his partner’s throat.

“Adios, chico,” I whispered as I dropped the dying man and lunged forward.

Taking advantage of his state of shock, I drove the blade into his carotid. His hands flew up to his throat, and he stared in horror at his life force coating his hands. His body slumped down. The sounds of him dying were drowned out by more gunshots and shouting. Crouching down, I reached forward and wiped off the blood covering both the blade and my hands.

“Thanks for the use of your shirt. Blood makes for a slippery knife. Hard to stab another asshole if it slips through my hand. Ya know? Oh, and death from a punctured carotid isn’t as fast as they show in movies, huh? Tù compadre went into cardiac arrest from lack of blood to the brain, probably since I slit his throat…but you’re taking longer. Want to know my guess as to why? I’m guessing because El Diablo wants you to suffer for the shit you’ve done to those women,” I spat at him.

Even in his dying state, the man’s eyes widened. I recognized the piece of shit the instant his eyes met mine. He was in the picture back at Scar’s, and he deserved every torturous breath he took. I released the magazine from the gun he’d dropped when I stabbed him and checked how many rounds remained—empty. Same with his buddy.

A round pinged off the metal bar of the shelving unit I was crouched behind.

“Cinga tu madre,” I swore under my breath.

The problem with staying stealthy is that I couldn’t let Gunner and whoever else he brought with him know where I was. I went to move to another location when a yell sounded out in the cargo bay.

“If you don’t want my men to stick a knife in that bitch’s gut, I suggest you come out right now,” Mario shouted.