Manuel shot me an appraising look. “Agreed. If he isn't dead before they get here, he'll be walking out in chains. We all know how that'll end up. I don't know about y'all, but I'm not down for watching his smug ass post bail and return to being a thorn in our asses.”
“Then nothing changes,” Carlos said firmly. “Isaac stays down here so we don't have to watch our back, the rest of us go up. I've got point.”
“Hold up now.” Manuel's protest fell on deaf ears. Carlos was already flying up the stairs two at a time, waiting for no one.
I cursed and darted after him, moving so quickly I almost threw myself into his back when I found him stopped at the top of the staircase. His shoulders were bunched, gun raised, and I peeked around him to see a man sitting on the plush white carpet with a body beside him. His back was against the wall, one knee drawn up to his chest, an arm dangling over it. He was holding what looked like a grey credit card in his other hand, spinning it around and through his knuckles lazily.
I couldn’t see a weapon, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have one.
Carlos approached cautiously and I moved with him, keeping my eyes on the hallway spreading out in front of me. “Unless you want a hole where your brain should be, Jay, you should put your hands where I can see them.”
Dull, muddy green eyes looked up at us through a mop of unruly black hair. I had seen a lot of men on the verge of death over the years. The variety of faces people could make when their life was hanging by a single squeeze of a trigger or swipe of a blade was practically limitless.
This was the first time one had ever seemed so completely disinterested in the gun barrels staring him down.
Jay raised his hands and splayed his palms wide, showing they were completely empty but for the grey card pinched between forefinger and thumb. I locked in on it, eyes narrowing. I took a single step forward and he shook his head, bending the object in his fingers.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said calmly. “I’m sure I can break this in half before Carlos here pulls the trigger or you decide to stab me.”
“Give us one good reason not to chance it,” Manel said, coming up behind us.
“Because unless whoever did that little trick with the lights is still lurking, you’ll never get in the safe room beneath the garage without this key card.”
I glanced at the body behind him while he spoke. The dead man was on his back, eyes closed. There was an impeccably tight grouping of shots center mass of his gray t-shirt, and the concentration of blood around his neck and head told me there was likely another cluster right below the jaw.
Since the skull was in one piece and I couldn’t spot an exit wound, I was willing to bet he intentionally carried something with a small caliber that would bounce around, shredding brain matter. The careful placement told me more than words alone could.
He wasn’t just a marksman.
Those were the targets a hitman would choose.
Carlos scoffed. “Bullshit. I know the floor plans for this entire place inside and out. He doesn’t have a safe room.”
“It wouldn’t be very safe if you knew about it, huh? Good thing for you I grabbed this from your best pal, Aarón.”
I glanced at Carlos. His shrug was nearly imperceptible but I caught it nonetheless. My attention shifted back to Jay. “Your life in exchange for the card?”
“You’re not going to threaten me?” Jay asked, slowly getting to his feet. If I didn't know better I would say he sounded disappointed.
Manuel loomed behind us, a brick wall of malice. “You've obviously got no loyalty to the man you've killed for given the handiwork beside you. Why should we trust you?”
“It was never about loyalty. He signed my contract and wrote my checks so I did my job. Until he broke the terms of our agreement.” He glanced towards me and away, but for that brief moment the closest thing I had seen to an actual emotion flared. “He's been black-listed, which means my services and protections are now null and void.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Manuel looked down at me like I had grown a second head and Carlos was clearly hesitant, but I didn’t bother explaining myself.
This wasn’t a matter of trust, because I didn’t know the man in front of me from a random individual on the street. What I did know, was his type. The lack of interest wasn’t an act. For whatever reason, there was a hollow cave where his emotions were supposed to be.
Axle, who had stepped into the vacancy left by Tex becoming a family man, was the same way. They couldn’t feel or react in the same ways as the rest of us, so they crafted a set of rules and guidelines to work within because it was the only thing capable of giving them purpose.
Jay wasn’t lying or intent on betraying us. Not because he cared one way or another, but because he couldn’t be bothered to do so. Although leaving him to wander aimlessly could turn out to be problematic in its own way.
I held out my hand, fingers curling around the key card he placed in it without a second thought. “Wait,” I said when he went to move past us. He stopped and turned, ignoring the evil eye Manuel was giving him. “Do you have another job lined up?”
“I always do.”
“And what if I wanted to offer you a more permanent position?”
“Then I would be tempted to sit down and hear your offer, but I make no guarantees about whether or not I’ll accept.”
I nodded. Now wasn’t the time for that conversation anyway. “Stay in the city. I’ll be in touch.”
He said nothing else before disappearing down the stairs.
“If that ain’t the dumbest fucking thing either of you have-
“Make sure he leaves,” Carlos interrupted his brother. “Then stay with Isaac. If anyone tries to make it back here, I don’t want him down there by himself. We’ll handle the rest ourselves.”
“I don’t like this.” Manuel shifted his gun between hands, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Cornered rats can still bite back and you won’t have the numbers.”
“You don’t have to like it but we need to get this done. Go. Now.” Manuel grumbled but did as he was told. Carlos turned to me. “Ready?”
We continued down the hall, checking rooms as we went with surprising speed. A thrill went down my spine as we worked together like a single, well-oiled machine. We were in each other’s heads without needing to speak a word. It further proved what I already knew. He was part of me and I was part of him.
But that also meant I could feel the wave of anger he was riding on in each movement.
He kicked in doors hard enough several of them flew completely off their hinges before hitting the room fast and hard, and I was there to cover his blind spots. A statue in a corner of one of the darkened bedrooms nearly got its face blasted into bits, but our sweeps returned no actual opposition. I was grateful for it.
The longer this took, the more his mood seemed to deteriorate.
“His office is straight ahead.” The light sheen of sweat on his face and the disarray to his normally immaculate suit made him look like an angry god storming creation. “There’s an elevator inside that goes to the garage, so it has to be the same one he uses for the safe room.”
He pulled ahead of me, strides lengthening. I frowned, upping my pace when it looked like he wasn't going to stop. He's not seriously going to-
Carlos raised his foot but I checked him with my shoulder, pushing him off balance. His head whipped towards me and I was right in his face, giving back the same intensity radiating from him. "Breathe, warlord, or you're going to get yourself killed.”
“I want him fucking dead. No more delays. No more distractions. I dedicated my life to this and I will see it done.”
I invaded his space until I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. “Maybe you did. But when you got this,” my hand traced across his shirt, over the permanent ink on his chest proclaiming to the world how far he would go for me. “You dedicated your life to me instead. And guess what? I’m laying my claim on
it right here, right now. No matter how mad you are, you don’t get to throw it away.”
The wild energy left him by degrees until his eyes softened. “So you're claiming me now, that's how this is going to work?”
I poked him in the chest. “You're damn right it is. I've saved you twice now. You're mine, damn it.”
“Three times.”
“When was the third?”
He smiled, soft and sweet and so bad for my heart. “The day I ascended those stairs to find you waiting for me. You saved the lonely corner of my soul that had been waiting on its other half. I-”
My hand reached up, covering his mouth before I did something stupid like kiss him, again. Which was sounding like a better and better idea by the second except for one small issue. If I started, I wasn't sure I would be able to stop.
“Later,” I promised softly. He nodded, quickly pressing his lips against my palm a moment before I dropped it. My hand tingled with warmth and I closed my fingers around the area, holding onto it as I took position on the other side of the door frame.
We burst inside to find an empty office, filled to the brim with the kind of opulence only someone overwhelmed with greed would find appealing. Gaudy amounts of gold shone from everywhere my eyes fell, ranging from pen holders to gilded mirrors to paperweights.
Even the chair behind the gigantic desk looked more like a throne, sized up to fit the man it was supposed to hold.
“Here.” Carlos holstered his gun so he could wrap his hands around the back of a bookcase along the wall. He grunted once, back flexing as he pulled it in a neat arc to reveal the steel frame of an elevator. Careful fingers keyed in a twelve digit code and the doors opened soundlessly so we could step inside, allowing them to slide closed behind us.
I looked around, finding the slot for the key card easily enough. Then we were headed down, ready to finish this for good. We each backed into our respective corners and crouched so we wouldn’t be in sight when the doors opened.
Carlos glanced at me, brows creasing, but we were already slowing. Stopping. I breathed out, taking my knife in one hand and using it as a brace for the other.
The doors opened.
Behind us.
No.
I hadn’t even noticed the seams.
“Kill them!”
My stomach dropped to the floor, heart suddenly galloping against my ribs. I spun, catching sight of a lavish bedroom.
Too slow.
Too damn slow.
Gunfire cracked against my ears like lightning, even as I returned it blindly, but all the sound in the world cut out when red bloomed in the corner of my vision and Carlos staggered.
No. No, no, no.
Nonononono.
Time slowed to a crawl.
It didn’t stop his knee from hitting the floor.
It didn’t stop the bullets flying around us.
It didn’t stop the red hot rage from descending on me like a tornado.
He was mine.
I wouldn’t let them take him from me.
CHAPTER 32 - Carlos
Fucking burns.
Rationally, I knew the real pain was right around the corner but there were too many other worries on my plate. My left shoulder felt as if it was submerged in acid and the whole arm was as good as useless. I could see my gun on the floor beside me but I couldn’t move my fingers to reach for it.
I grabbed it with my right instead, or tried to anyway. It took three attempts because the same adrenaline keeping the pain at bay was beating behind my eyelids, a drum that made my vision bounce and blur with every pump of my heart. My grip wasn’t what it should’ve been either, but it would have to do.
Sylvia was on the warpath, a living incarnation of silver and black death charging towards Marcel, heedless of her own safety.
Marcel gave ground, firing aimlessly. She didn’t care. She put two bullets in each of his legs, dropping him to the ground. Then she was on him, lunging over the table he had fallen behind. I caught the flash of her blade before they disappeared in a tangle of limbs and my attention switched to the last threat.
Narciso held his gun awkwardly, face blotchy from exertion, bouncing back and forth on his heels as he looked for a shot in the scuffle happening a few feet away from him. He wasn’t focused on me, which was good and bad. Good, because it allowed me to struggle to my feet, a frustratingly slow process. Bad, because I didn't trust him not to take the shot anyway, whether he hit Marcel or not.
I bit down on my tongue, struggling for focus, yet standing remained enough of a chore I thought I would pass out. I stumbled more than walked into the room, so my aim was all wrong when I raised my weapon and pulled the trigger. Then I did it again, and again. My shots were all completely off. I couldn't tell where they landed, but the purpose was served well enough.
He jumped away from the snarling mass tumbling across the floor, glancing towards me and then over my shoulder. The elevator was his only exit now. I knew it. He knew it. And the only person blocking his path was seeing doubles, nursing a bum arm, and bleeding out with every passing second.
But as he faced me, it was his hands that trembled.
His steps that started and faltered each time he tried to move.
His eyes that betrayed the fear he was feeling.
I advanced towards him, shaking off the dark edges at the corners of my vision. He retreated until his back hit the wall. Only then did he remember to raise the barrel and aim it at me.
By then, his fate was sealed.
A blast went off, but not from either of us. Narciso dropped his gun. It clattered to the floor with a strange, muffled echo that seemed to play on a loop in my head. He clapped his hands to the side of his neck, but even his fingers weren't big enough to stem the flow of blood that began slipping between them. Sliding down the front of his rumpled suit.
My eyes must've closed because Sylvia was suddenly beside him when she hadn't been a moment ago, covered in red like she'd fought a can of paint and lost. The pale skin of her arms was covered up to the elbows. There was splatter on the profile of her face. If any of it was hers, I couldn't tell.
Although going by the grisly mess that used to be Marcel, I was assuming none of it was.
“Wait,” Narciso gurgled, already choking on the life spilling from his veins.
She didn't.
Sylvia bared her teeth before driving her blade into his chest and twisting.
Narciso gasped once, staring down at the leather hilt jutting from his chest, a gruesome ornament. He looked up at me, blinking in surprise. I was sure my expression reflected the same.
It's over. Just like that.
Coming here, I had planned to make him suffer. To draw out his torment until he begged me for the sweet release that death would bring.
As Sylvia retrieved her knife and let him fall face down under his own dead weight, I realized this was equally as satisfying.
She stared down at the body, breath coming hard and fast. My savage queen. Bloody and unyielding. A sight to behold. We had done what we set out to do, and though there were no fireworks or miraculous images, the awareness of it slid over me like a cool mist.
“Hey, stay with me.” I blinked and she was leaning over me, face creased with worry. My knees were aching. When did I end up on the ground? Fingers snapped in front of me. Those same fingers, sticky with blood, lifted my head when it dropped. “Fuck. Okay, I need you to sit back for me. Slowly.”
Sit back. I can do that. I think I nodded but I wasn’t sure.
My weight fell backwards onto something solid that propped me up. Fire licked the inside of my veins at the impact and the world blurred again, the contents of my stomach lurching to one side.
Sylvia maneuvered me carefully, slicing off pieces of my suit and shirt beneath it until my chest was bare. Those were designer, some part of me lamented. I looked down, trying to spot the hole in my upper chest, but I couldn’t see much more than the blood covering my torso.
&
nbsp; My medical knowledge didn’t extend very far, but it didn’t take a genius to know those were bad signs.
“What’s the prognosis, doctor?”
There was a storm in her eyes when she looked at me, and the way she hid it away told me this was no small thing. “Now isn’t the time to be a smartass, Carlos. Here.” She whipped her tank top off, leaving her in only a black sports bra, and pressed it into my hand, ignoring my weak growl. “Stop wasting energy giving me that look and put pressure on the wound.”
I did as she asked with a grimace. The adrenaline had run its course and the pain was settling in for the long haul. I wanted to crawl out of my own skin to escape it so I tried to focus on something else instead. Sylvia was taking the ripped pieces of my clothing and tying them together, hands leaving bloody smears over the fabric. Satisfied with her work, she tugged the ends with a grunt.
“Stay still.” She wrapped the material around me, tightening it without warning. I think I blacked out, because when I could focus again she was underneath my good arm, struggling to lift me. “Ugh. You’re heavier than you look. Can you stand?”
“Yeah, yeah. Let me just-”
“On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
I groaned as she helped me to stand, a bone deep shiver wracking my body. The darkness closed in, eclipsing my vision completely. The last thing I heard was her frantically calling my name before I was swept away completely.
***
What the fuck is that beeping?
“There he is. Thank fuck.” I recognized the low timbre of Manny’s voice, and my eyelids felt glued together when I struggled to open them. Then there he was, literally hovering a few inches in front of my face. I could smell apples on his breath.
I cleared my throat - or tried to, anyway; there wasn’t much moisture to work with - and glared at him. My voice came out as a dry rasp. “Get out of my face.”
He moved backwards and I could see more than the white of his teeth. The hospital room lacked the sterility most of them tended to have. There were soft, globe lights in the ceiling, hardwood floors, and the large window overlooking the city told me we were in a private room. It was dark out, and I couldn’t find a clock to tell me how long I had been unconscious. Then there was the fucking heart monitor making its racket in the background.
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