“Just because we share DNA doesn’t mean I owe you any explanations. I don’t care what you believe as long as you get the fuck out of my way.”
Tank finally takes a step back. “I don’t know what the hell is going on but Gabe … ” He eyes me with a hard look. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I start walking down Sasha’s driveway and then into the street. Direction won’t matter. Blade will still be nearby. Watching. Waiting. Sure enough, after I walk two blocks over, I see him. He’s got a baseball cap on but I know that walk.
“Hey!”
He looks back and then takes off running. I sprint after him, dodging around a parked car to follow him down a side street. As soon as I turn the corner, a fist plows into my stomach.
“Shit!” I swing out blindly, catching him in the arm.
He pulls me up and then unleashes a flurry of jabs to my chest. I manage to block a few and deliver a punch to his jaw that makes his head snap back but that doesn’t slow him at all. It’s clear that he’s an experienced fighter and before long, he catches me on the side of the head so hard I see stars. Then his arms slashes out and fire explodes in my side.
He shoves me away and I stumble and land on one knee. Gravel and rocks tear at my jeans, sending little shards of pain to the skin. When I look up, there’s a knife in his hand. I can’t tell in the dark but I’m willing to bet it’s the same kind of knife rammed into Sasha’s bedroom door. Just the thought of it enrages me all over again. He sees the anger in my eyes and laughs.
This is where it ends, I think. Because with the look in his eyes I know that he will have no problem cutting my throat.
“I’m not going to kill you. Unless you force me to.” He has a thick Irish accent. Tank’s intel was good then.
“That knife isn’t just for show,” I remark. “Clearly you have no problem using it, either.”
“Your last name is the only thing that saved you, boyo. That message was a warning. Most people don’t even get one.”
“My last name?” I pant, holding a hand to my aching ribs. When I pull my hand away, it's stained with blood.
Fuck.
“I had to come, to see what could make a man turn his back on his family, his country and his duty. This isn’t how I wanted things to go but you brought this on yourself when you stole from me. I saw you at the warehouse.”
His ramblings make no sense but all I care about is clarifying the last point. “I didn’t take anything from you.”
“Not at first. But you sent back your little friend. The redhead. He took something from me and I need it back.”
“I didn’t know." Damn Cole and his sticky fingers. "I’ll get it back. Just leave Sasha alone!” Pain flares anew from the exertion of yelling and I struggle to calm down. Deep breaths cause a firestorm in my chest. I keep my hand pressed to my side as hard as I can.
“Get me my ring back and we’ll see.” His accent thickens as he points the knife at me.
“And you’ll leave her out of this?”
He doesn’t answer, just smiles that creepy smile. Then he’s moving toward me.
“What do you mean about my last name?” I ask desperately.
He flips the knife, the blade glinting in the moonlight like a shooting star, before he catches it. “It’s the same as mine.”
I never even saw the punch coming.
* * * * *
When I wake up, the only thing I feel is pain. I can’t even cry out. It would take energy I don’t have to even make a sound so I just lie in agony hoping that someone will come along and put me out of my misery. Until I hear Tank’s voice. Then I think, anyone but him.
I’m never going to hear the end of this.
Tank kneels next to me. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”
He slips an arm under my shoulders and then hoists me up. My voice returns then, either that or the pain needs an outlet.
“That fucker hits like a freight train. I think his knuckles are made out of titanium.”