“Surprise,” Chris said with a wide grin. “Fingers off the gun and hands up.”
Lucas did as he asked, but remained on his knees, his body blocking as much of Andrei as possible. His stomach dropped and the world seemed to tilt off its axis just a bit. Lucas had spent weeks agonizing over who could be threatening him. He’d imagined all manner of underworld thugs, gang bosses, and even the occasional mafia head who was trying to make a name for himself. The seemingly respectable and clean-cut Christopher Green had never entered his mind. “You’re not who I expected. You’re not some…marketing director.” Lucas tried to recall the title he’d seen on the man’s business card.
“Oh, I am. But that’s my day job. The side that lets me meet the city’s elite and the side for the IRS,” he said with a smirk. “My night job of running fights is far more lucrative. And entertaining.”
“Then why the fuck go after me and Thomas Lynton? Why the hell did you kill Patrick?”
Chris motioned with the gun for Lucas to stand as he stepped to the side, moving so that his back was no longer in the open doorway where Snow or Rowe could easily sneak up on him. Lucas slowly rose, his knees aching after pressing into the frigid, hard floor. He stepped toward Chris rather than away, forcing the man to take another step backward into the small room. Empty metal shelves lined the walls.
“Patrick was an accident,” Chris admitted even though there was no remorse in his tone. “The men I hired took it all a little too far. But then, what do you expect from a bunch of fighters hooked on Oxy?”
“Why?” Lucas snarled, barely controlling his temper. Patrick had been a kind man with three kids who donated his money and time to local charities and was trying to do good things for the city he loved. He hadn’t deserved to die.
“OTR.”
“What?”
“Before it was completely made over, early investors in Over The Rhine made millions. Millions.”
“So?”
“I’m fucking tired of inching along, building my fortune. Being everyone’s bitch. I’m smarter than most of those idiots sitting the C-Suite!” He shouted, waving his gun at Lucas as his hold on his temper snapped. But he blinked, instantly calming. He smiled at Lucas, but there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in his expression. “And then I heard that you were moving into Price Hill and Lynton was in Corryville. Lynton got into OTR early and everyone knows that whenever you open a new restaurant or club, the entire area becomes hot. The next Mecca for the hipsters. I figured you two might have known where the next great investment was going to be. I wanted in.”
Lucas took another step forward. “You decided to steal our property. Our investment.”
“Of course not. Stealing is illegal.” He chuckled. “I’ve got trusts set up to buy your property and Lynton’s.”
“And if I never wanted to sell?”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. But first, I think I’ll take care of your boyfriend. He was incredibly loyal to you when we tortured him. He screamed a lot. Begged a little. But wouldn’t say a word about you.” Green’s smile grew even more twisted. “That’s okay. You said plenty.”
Rage burned through Lucas, incinerating his own caution. His own words turned against him. He didn’t want to think about what he might have said during a visit with Snow or Rowe about the man slowly dying on the floor behind him. His every instinct was to protect Andrei, to keep him safe. This was not what he’d intended.
As Chris moved the gun to aim at Andrei, Lucas lunged across the short distance separating them, knocking the gun to the far right. The pistol fired, the sound leaving a ringing in his ears. The bullet soared across the room and dug deep into the drywall and cinder blocks. Lucas struggled with the other man, delivering a hard elbow to his temple and another to his throat. Despite Chris’s experience in running fights, it was obvious that he hadn’t much training fighting himself. The gun discharged twice more, the bullets pinging off metal surfaces before burrowing somewhere in the darkness, before Lucas finally got it out of his hands.
Stepping back, Lucas pulled his own pistol and aimed it at Chris, his heart thudding in his ears.
The man stared at him with a bitter, mutinous expression. “It was worth it,” he said, his voice rough and breathless.
“I hope so.” Lucas squeezed the trigger and there was a soft puff of air. Chris winced and looked down at his abdomen. A small silver dart protruded from his light blue shirt. He lifted shocked and confused eyes to Lucas before he collapsed, unconscious, to the floor.
“You didn’t kill him,” Rowe stated, surprise lifting his voice an octave higher. It was only then that Lucas noticed that the warehouse was quiet again. The gunfire silenced. “Are we handing him over to the cops?”