Floor Man ignored it all, absolutely determined to get that key and unlock Jessica. I had no idea who he was and I didn’t care. He had the key, which meant he was responsible for her being here and that was good enough for me.
Time to end this and get the hell out of here before we died.
I rose silently to my knees and aimed the gun, just like Disturbing Field Guy had taught me. Then I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger, the explosion shattering so loud in the tiny room that my ears started ringing. Jess screamed again as the bullet caught him in the side, knocking him back against the wall. His eyes found mine and widened in surprise. Then his hand started fumbling for something that’d crashed heavily to the tile next to him.
His gun?
Fuck that.
I shot him again, this time in the chest. Another shot, catching his arm. I started knee-walking across the floor, determined to grab that key and get Jessica out. God. He was still alive. His eyes blinked, and he held up a hand, as if he could stop me by sheer force of will. His mouth moved but I couldn’t make out the words through the ringing. Smoke started curling through the air above me, filtering through the air vent. We really, really needed to get out of here.
Time to end this asshole.
Holding my gun with both hands, I shot him point-blank in the center of his forehead. Blood and brain spattered everything in the room, including me. I gagged, trying not to throw up. I didn’t slow down, though. I couldn’t afford to, not with smoke pouring into the room, half an army waiting to kill us, and Jessica chained to a fucking toilet with her pants on the floor.
Time to find that key. Too bad it was wedged somewhere under Fatty McDeadfuck.
His body was heavy and limp, but I managed to roll it toward me long enough to dig through the gore and find the little key that’d cost him his life. Then I was on my feet and unlocking Jessica. She was just standing up when the door burst open again.
I raised the gun, ready to shoot.
Reese.
His eyes widened, taking in everything. My blood-spattered face, Jessica peeking out of the stall … Fatty McDeadfuck’s spattered brains.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. Huh. Guess my hearing was working again. Yup. More gunfire in the background, along with even louder wailing from the alarm, now that the door was open.
“Hi, Reese,” I said, smiling just a tad too brightly. “I found Jessica.”
Ruger came in behind him, followed by Horse and some bearded stranger I didn’t recognize. Suddenly the bathroom was way too crowded.
“That’s Gerardo Medina,” Beard Man said. “He’s dead … Holy hell. Who shot him?”
“I did,” I snapped, waving my gun for emphasis. They all froze, and I realized waving deadly weapons for emphasis while covered with blood and brain chunks probably wasn’t such a hot idea. This struck me as funny, but I managed not to laugh.
That’s when I realized perhaps I was losing my shit a little.
“Oops. Sorry.”
Reese let out a slow breath.
“Okay, give me the gun, babe,” he said, reaching out for it. I hesitated—what if I needed to defend Jessica again? My thoughts were racing way too fast, I couldn’t think. Reese considered me warily.
“I’m impressed as hell, London. You just killed the number two guy for the Santiago Cartel in the U.S., so job well done. But much as I respect your deadly instincts, I think we’ll all be safer if you hand that gun over.”
“I’m fine keeping it,” I said, narrowing my eyes to focus on his face. Damn. Why was everything moving so fast?
“Tell me right now how much ammunition you have left.”
“Why?”
“Because if you can’t answer the question, you got no business carrying that thing around.”
He made a good point.
I handed over the gun with the barrel pointed down carefully, startled by how hard it was to keep my balance. Then he was lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder in a firefighter’s carry. He raced out the bathroom door, smoke surrounding us and the roar of guns growing louder. Something whacked my shoulder and my arm went numb.
“Loni!” Jess screamed behind me, and I raised my head to see Horse carrying her, dangling pants and all. Then I heard someone yell “Fuck!” really loud, followed by “Get the hell outta here!”
Reese pelted toward the end of the warehouse as the whole place seemed to burst into flames. Smoke burned my eyes, and I had no idea how he was getting enough air—I certainly wasn’t. Still, we barreled down the row of pallets like a herd of wild horses until I saw Puck waiting by the door we’d used to enter, waving at us frantically.
Then we were through it and out in the night air.
Reese tossed me into the back of a van and jumped on top of me, knocking the breath right out of my body. Horse and Jessica followed, and the vehicle took off, cargo doors swinging wide as we tore down the street. From my crumpled position on the floor, I saw a pillar of flame burst through the top of the warehouse roof. Then Horse caught hold of a tie-down mounted on the van’s wall and leaned out, grabbing the doors and slamming them shut.
There was a giant, roaring whoosh as something blew up, and the entire van rocked violently.
“People have got to stop blowing up buildings at me,” I muttered, trying not to giggle. Something was wrong here … Why wouldn’t my brain work? Felt like I was looking at everything through a film of honey. I tried to push Reese off, but my arm still wouldn’t work.
“I’ll look into it,” Reese muttered back at me.
“You do that.”
He pulled me close and squeezed me, which should’ve made me feel all warm and safe. Instead I didn’t feel anything at all. I knew I should be checking on Jessica, there was something important … but I was just so incredibly tired and weak.
I don’t remember anything after that.
The garbled noises that woke me sounded like someone speaking underwater.
This made sense, because I seemed to be floating. I just wasn’t quite sure how I was floating—or why—but I definitely wasn’t on solid ground.
Lovely …
“London?”
I tried to say “go away,” but it came out more like “gwo cay.”
Huh.
“London, can you hear me? Try and wake up, sweetheart.”
I shook my head, feeling a sharp twinge of pain. It cut through the floating sensation in a way I simply couldn’t approve of. I opened my eyes to try to find whoever was making my head hurt. Maybe if I bit them hard enough, they’d stop? But identifying the culprit wouldn’t be easy—apparently he’d filled my eyelids with sand, because they were all scratchy and dry.
“I’ve got news about Jess,” the voice said, catching my attention. Jessica. Memories started to come back. Oh, sheesh. We’d gone to California and I’d killed a man. But I’d found Jess—that part was important. Jessica was alive. Then another building had exploded. I blinked, trying to focus on the face above mine.
Reese.
“Hey,” I managed to croak out. “What happened?”
“You got shot in the arm and passed out,” he told me. I frowned. I didn’t remember getting shot. Shouldn’t I have noticed?
“How?”
“I’m assuming with a bullet,” he said, voice dry. I considered hitting him, but that would’ve involved raising my hand, which didn’t seem to be a realistic option at the moment.
“Why do I feel so weird?”
“Doc shot you up with painkillers. Probably a little more hard-core than you needed, but I didn’t want you hurting.”
Guess that explained the fog. I blinked some more, trying to clear it.
“What about Jess?” I finally managed to ask.
“She’s doin’ great,” Reese said. “They’ve done a CAT scan and the shunt is fine. Aside from the finger, the only other thing wrong with her is a little dehydration and some bruises. They want her to follow up with a plastic surgeon for the hand, but otherwise it’s all good. No sign of any seizures, either. She’s actually in a lot better shape than you—girl’s stronger than you thought.”
That was a relief. The ball of tension loosened in my chest, which was very curious. Up to that moment I hadn’t been able to feel my chest at all. Probably because of the drugs, which they’d given me because I got … attacked by a bullet? Oh yeah. Maybe I should ask Reese about that, now that I knew Jess was safe …
“When did I get shot?”
“In the warehouse,” he said. “Do you remember the man in the bathroom?”
I shuddered, wishing I could forget him—I had a feeling I’d be seeing those eyes blinking at me in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
“Yes.”
“We think it might’ve been a ricochet in there,” he said. “Either that or a random hit while we were running out of the building. It’s a graze along your arm, but you got lucky. Didn’t penetrate much past the outer layer of muscle—no nerve damage. You had so much other blood covering you that we didn’t even notice until you passed out on the floor of the van. Like Em all over again. Thought I’d have a fuckin’ heart attack.”
I frowned. “Why didn’t I feel it?”
“Adrenaline. Happens more often than you’d think.”
I blinked at him, the world finally coming into focus. Reese looked tired, his eyes shadowed with dark circles, and I had a feeling I wasn’t looking too shit-hot myself. My head was starting to throb—felt like a Mack truck had rolled right over me. I looked around, trying to move as little as possible in the process. I seemed to be in a child’s bedroom. There was a kitten poster up on the wall and a pink canopy overhead.
“Where on earth are we?”
“At a friend’s house,” he told me, scooting his chair closer. “His club and the Reapers are allies, so when you needed a place to go, he offered. We’ve had a medic in to see you, and they stitched you up while you were out. Doc said you’ll be fine, gave you a shot of painkillers before he left. He’s a friend of the club, too—won’t report anything. Jessica’s situation is a little more complicated, because she needed more tests. Got her into a private clinic. They’ll keep their mouths shut so long as they get paid enough.”
I closed my eyes again, too tired to keep talking. The bed dipped and then Reese was lying next to me. It hurt to move, but I cuddled into his arms anyway. He made me feel safe and protected.
“One more thing I should mention,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Looks like Jessica was raped. Repeatedly. She’ll need STD and pregnancy tests.”
I closed my eyes, because I couldn’t handle thinking about that just yet.
“She’ll need a lot more than that.”
He didn’t say anything, which I appreciated. Instead he rubbed my back softly, soothing me. Why, I have no idea. I didn’t deserve his kindness—not after what I’d done.
I drifted off, waking up again when someone opened the door and asked Reese something.
“No,” he answered quietly, although I hadn’t caught the question. You need to pull yourself together, figure out what happens next.
“Anything else I should know about?” I managed to whisper, the drug fog muffling me. He gave a humorlous laugh.
“Well, apparently someone hit five drug warehouses and eight safe houses belonging to the cartel last night. No idea yet about a body count, but the cops are sayin’ almost all the leadership was taken out nearly simultaneously. They’re tryin’ to figure out who might be behind it.”
“Did all of our guys make it out okay?”
“We lost three,” he said, his voice lowering. “One Reaper and two Devil’s Jacks. Nobody you knew. And here’s bad luck for you—the cops picked up Puck and Painter last night for speeding. Found some guns in the car, so now they’re lookin’ at a trafficking charge.”
“Shit. By ‘lost,’ do you mean … ?”
“Dead.”
“Who were they?” I asked, my voice a whisper.
“My brothers,” Reese said, his voice rough. “Even the Jacks—they earned it with their blood. Now isn’t the time for crying, though. Gotta get everyone home safe first. Then we’ll remember them.”
“What about Puck and Painter?”
“Lawyer’s on his way right now,” he replied. “But probably not lookin’ so good for either of them. Both have priors. You owe Puck, by the way. He’s the one who figured out where you were. Hadn’t been for him, we might not’ve found you in time.”
I frowned.
“Surprised he bothered. I don’t think he likes me very much.”
“Doesn’t matter how he feels about you,” Reese told me. “Protectin’ club property. That’s his job.”
I had no idea how to react to that statement, so I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it.
“Overall it was a big win for us—it’ll take years for them to recover,” he continued. “The boss down in Mexico’s already been in touch, askin’ for a truce. They’ve agreed to stay south of San Francisco, at least for now, and leave the local clubs alone. In exchange, we gave ’em a little token of our appreciation.”
“What was that?”
“Evans.”
I stilled.
“I thought you said if Jess made it through you were going to let him go.”
“No, we told him if she survived, he’d survive, and he was definitely alive when we handed him over to the Santiagos. But only an idiot thinks he can double-cross the cartel and keep breathing long term. He was dead already, just didn’t know it yet.”