Tash shook her head. “In this world, you’re the perfect woman I should be looking up to.”
There was no time to reason with her. Even when faced with death, the girl was determined to be like me. I didn’t understand why she had passed up an opportunity to get away from this shit.
Her mother was a desperate crack addict, abusing the drug for over a decade. Her brothers were in jail, one for murder and the other for robbing a convenience store and shooting a cop. Drugs had found a way to take away her entire family, yet she still wanted in the game.
She clung to me, limping while I led her through that deathly valley towards my SUV. She was raped, beaten, and more than likely tortured, but a weak smile was poised on her lips as I led her to the back of the vehicle.
The standoff continued, no one dropping their weapons, but not firing either. They were smart enough to stand down, knowing I had people out there that they couldn’t see.
I was curious as to where the extra guns had come from since I had pinpointed red dots pinned to the chest of nearly every Haitian brave enough to show his face. The backup I had called was deadly, discreet, and devilish enough to turn the lights out in hell. However, there was enough fire power aimed at the Haitians to take out the entire neighborhood.
Once I got Tash into the back seat and shut her inside, I returned to my place next to my men. My calculating gaze scanned all of the men aiming guns at us. Most kept glancing at Trench, who was splayed out as an example of what happens when you’re shot in the head with a 7.62-millimeter machine gun round.
His head was laid open like a busted melon as most of his brains had become insect and crow food. His body was folded back on his legs that appeared to have already been stiffening.
At the moment, I was high on adrenaline and therefore took comfort in the idea that my death would likely be swift if it did come now. However, Arjen kept popping into my head, reminding me that I needed to be more careful with my life.
“Marshawn, Shockey, and Torch, lower your weapons,” I ordered. They lowered their weapons, which caused some of Trench’s men to lower theirs. Some conversed back and forth with each other, likely questioning what to do in the face of their boss’s death. Most had discovered that they were targets and pointed out to the others the red dots dancing over them.
“Angel. Devil. Kill the leaders. Forty-eight hours. I want to see proof.”
Marshawn, Shockey, and Torch glared like I had lost my mind.
“Who are you talking to?” Marshawn asked. I tapped a finger to my ear, alerting that I had at least planned for back up and that I had not carelessly risked their lives.
“There is at least one more that forced himself on Tash. I want him alive,” I finished the order I was putting in. I stood in place, taking in the faces of the men I would be responsible for killing.
“It will be done, boss,” Angel’s voice sounded in my ear.
“You have given me a gift,” Devil replied.
Angel was a smooth killer. She would do her job, and she would do it swiftly and with precision: clean and orderly. Devil was somewhat of a different case. She was a precise type of killer, and although she was an expert behind a sniper rifle, the woman loved taking her time with death. She lived to make her victims suffer. If you got between her and a kill, you were next.
Devil was a former government agent who had worked mainly off-the-books cases. Angel was a former Marine. Devi and Angie were my idea of perfection, twins that had doctorate level degrees in the art of death, and they’d been my guardian angels for over four years.
They were who I called each time I knew I needed a little extra special help. A death order of the magnitude that I had just placed would launch a full-scale investigation, no matter where these men were located. I was certain that the FBI and maybe a few other high-level law enforcement agencies would take a peek.
Once the dust settled, I planned to make moves to take back the territory that Raymond had foolishly allowed the Haitians to have. Rumor had it, he had lost the territory in a card game. After the way he had gambled on the entire livelihood of the Black Saints, it was wise to believe the rumors were true.
Once we were all back inside the vehicle safely, we prepared to drive away without a hitch, leaving Trench’s men to clean up the mess I was leaving behind. I didn’t worry about them reporting me to the cops, and even if someone did, I wasn’t aiming a weapon when Trench’s brains were blown out.
I had climbed into the back seat next to Tash, who sat in the middle. I took her small hand, closing mine tight around hers as she laid her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Tash.”
When she started to say something, I shushed her.
“Relax for a minute. Take a moment and breathe,” I told her.
As we drove away, she lifted her head and stretched her neck to glance back at what had more than likely been her hell for the past twenty-four hours.
“Tash,” I whispered her name.
“Yes,” she answered, her small hand squeezing around mine.
“Who touched you beside Trench and the one holding the rope?”