Weiland turned his smile on Seth. “So, all your clients haven’t been squeaky clean. I could also use someone like you in my business.”
Seth kept his fucking mouth shut. Yeah, he was well acquainted with the darker side of society, but his experience had been in helping good people get free of monsters like Cornelius Weiland. Good people like Liam Larsen who had no business standing in that club, surrounded by killers and extortionists.
“No! Absolutely not!” Liam shouted. His body trembled next to Seth. His hands clenched around the money until the paper crinkled under his fingers.
“You don’t understand. I’m not giving you a choice. I’m telling you what’s going to happen.” Weiland’s voice hardened to something cold and brittle. It was clear he was not accustomed to people not following his wishes.
“No. I’m not. My flower shop is not dirty. You are not taking this from me.”
Weiland snorted. “Are you really this fucking dense? You say no and I kill you. I kill your little bodyguard. And then I take the money you’re holding off your fucking corpse!”
“Go to hell. My shop will never be used by you!” Liam shouted.
“We’re a go,” Seth snarled, giving the signal Sven and Rowe had been waiting for outside of the club. The hope was that they’d quickly take care of Georgie and the meathead who’d remained at the front door, leaving Seth with the other seven until his backup could appear.
Twisting around, Seth grabbed Buzz’s arm from where the man had been hovering behind his shoulder. He knocked the man’s gun from his hand as he tried to pull it. With a quick kick to the side of the guy’s knee, he started to crumple. Twining his fist in the man’s shirt, he threw the brute into Weiland’s table as the other goons were attempting to draw their guns.
“Cover!” Seth shouted, pausing long enough to watch Buzz’s large frame crash into the table and topple it over. Weiland didn’t have enough time to jump free of his chair, so he went down in a heap with the table and Buzz.
The two remaining bodyguards with Weiland nearly had their guns as Seth started to backpedal, his heart pumping wildly in his chest. One of the ruffians had their eyes locked on Seth, but the other was staring across the room, likely following Liam’s course toward some protective cover.
Seth didn’t hesitate. He lifted the gun he’d pulled off Buzz and squeezed the trigger twice. The first bullet glanced off the nose of the gun, knocking it from the asshole’s hand while he buried the second in his shoulder. He then moved to the man taking aim at him, putting one in his gun arm. The would-be shooter cried out, dropping his gun to cradle his wounded arm to his chest.
A cry from across the room had Seth twisting around in time to see Liam launch himself over the top of the bar, tackling one of the barbacks. He’d picked up a fucking shotgun but screamed at the sight of over two hundred pounds of Viking terror crashing into him.
Seth didn’t have a chance to rush to his side to help him. Buzz had gotten free of his table entanglement. His large body tackled Seth to the floor. The bodyguard’s hip and shoulder smacked into the concrete, sending a sharp pain streaking through him. Seth forced himself to keep rolling, using Buzz’s momentum against him.
When he finally got Buzz on his back, Seth pushed up so that he was straddling the fucker. He slammed his fist down several times, bouncing his head off the floor until his eyes rolled up and body went slack.
Seth started to push off Buzz, intending to look for Liam, but something hard pressed into his head and he froze. He didn’t need to look around to know that someone was holding a gun on him.
“All this fucking trouble from a goddamn florist,” Weiland snarled.
“Don’t you know?” Seth said with a snicker. “Don’t fuck with a florist.”
Across the room a loud thunk echoed in the new silence, followed by a single word bellowed from Liam. “Down!”
Seth didn’t hesitate. He flattened himself on Buzz’s limp body, and the shotgun exploded. Weiland grunted as he was thrown backward. His body crashed into a table and chairs, knocking them over. Seth poked his head up to see Liam standing on the other side of the bar, the shotgun expertly tucked against his shoulder, still pointed at where Weiland had been standing over Seth.
He stared at the pale and slightly bloodied man, unable to hear a damn thing over the pounding of his heart in his ears. When the world came into clearer focus, Rowe and Sven rushed into the club, their eyes wide as they took in the carnage.
“Did you not leave us anyone?” Rowe complained.