He’s in a whole lot of agony and yet he continues to stare defiantly at me.
I pull out my phone. I’m done with his bullshit. And it’s not his lucky day after all.
I search for Kick’s number and call him.
“Jesus,” he answers with a grumble, “It’s not even five yet, Fury.”
I eye Ricardo, who is writhing in pain on the floor, making as much fucking noise as he can. Jamming my hand over his mouth to silence him, I say to Kick, “Sorry brother, but I’ve got a plumbing problem.” King’s paranoid as fuck these days about being listened in on, so he has us using a whole heap of code. Code he changes weekly. It does my head in some weeks trying to remember what means what.
“Fuck,” he mutters, but I hear him moving into action. “Text me the address.”
Ending the call, I shoot the text through and then look down at Ricardo as I reach for my gun. “It was your lucky day, but not now.” Aiming the gun at him, I add, “You should have shut the fuck up after the first finger.”
He spits blood at me. “You shouldn’t have come here today.”
I’m so past listening to his shit that I don’t even bother giving him the satisfaction of continuing the conversation.
I pull the trigger.
The fucker isn’t good at going down, though, not even in death. Instead of shutting up, he gurgles something about the blonde from the other night not being safe. That gets my attention. I crouch in front of him. “What did you just say?”
His lips pull up with menace. He’s barely breathing, but he gets out, ?
?The blonde. We’ll get her…”
With that, any breath left in him dies on his lips and I’m left wondering what the fuck he meant. I’m also forced into action.
Stalking through his house, I find sheets and wrap his body ready to be moved when Kick gets here. I then clean myself up in his bathroom, doing my best to ignore his filth. The guy’s messy and doesn’t appear to know his way around a cleaning cloth.
Once I’m done, I text Kick.
* * *
Me: I can’t stick around and wait for you.
Kick: What the fuck? I need the extra manpower for this.
Me: Sorry, can’t stay. Will catch you up later.
* * *
Letting myself out through the back door, I disappear down the path at the side of his house and quickly make my way across a couple of blocks to where I left my bike. A few moments later, I’m on my way to Zara’s house.
It’s just past 5:30 a.m. when I pull up outside her home. Although the sun’s just rising, it’s twenty-four degrees and humid. Today is gonna be a bitch.
When no one answers the door after I knock a few times, I bang louder. Ricardo was probably talking shit when he threatened Zara, but I need to see that she’s safe before I call King and let him know what was said.
I bang on the door again. Louder. Finally, it’s yanked open and a cranky Holly says, “What the hell, Fury? You do know it’s too early for unexpected visitors, right?”
Looking behind her, I ignore what she says and push my way inside. “Where’s Zara?”
I’m already halfway down the hall looking for bedrooms when she catches up to me. “She’s asleep as far as I know. Why? And Jesus, ever heard of being asked to come inside before just bulldozing your way in?”
I continue to ignore her as I throw doors open. “Which room is hers?”
“That one,” she says as I open Zara’s door. “But you seriously do not want to wake her up.”
Too late, Zara’s awake and glaring at me like she wants to kill me. “What’s going on?”