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I see him. The man who spoke to me last night, whose fucking name totally escapes me now, reaches for something in his jacket. I don’t give him a chance to use it, though, and plug his chest with two bullets. He drops to the floor like a lead weight, a pool of blood spreading around him on the floor.
Then I swing the weapon to Grant. He lunges for Scarlett and grabs her, pulling her in front of him like a motherfucking cowardly piece of shit.
“I wouldn’t. Not unless you want a bullet to your brain, fucker.”
My narrowed eyes fall on Dale where he lies limp on the floor. Shit. It’s both nightmarish and fucking Christmas all at once.
Scarlett’s bleeding from her mouth and I want… I want to kill the bastard who touched her. Kill him slowly with the kind of prejudice that’ll give one of Satan’s torture demon’s a run for his money.
My hand clutches the gun, and I force myself to hold it steady.
“Scarlett, move the fuck away from your father and uncle.” She looks at me, her eyes wide and glittering with fear. “Now.”
She shifts away from her uncle, but not her father. “Malone, he-he’s not Amelia’s father. And he’s trying to set you up.”
“I know. Take Amelia and go out the back. Behind me.”
She takes a step and looks at her father, tears in her eyes. “Dad?—”
“Leave him.” Somehow, I manage to sound reasonable. “And get out, Red. Now.”
Her father lies between me and her prick uncle as commotion pours in from the front. A bloodbath is about to commence, and while the Knights won’t stand in my way… I might be done.
I don’t give a shit.
Scarlett’s still behind me, I fucking feel her. The scent of gardenias weaves around me, subtle, almost not there, except I can smell them because I’m so fucking in tune with her. I might even love her.
But I’m going to fuck that up, ruin her life, because I need to get my revenge. I need to see the bastards bleed and die. Both of them.
The door in front of me opens, and Smith pops his head into the room. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Beyond him, Orion’s on the phone calling, no doubt, Gisella the Cleaner, since there are two bodies. He didn’t shoot them; he didn’t have to. The man’s fucking built and utterly deadly, powerful. He kills with his hands.
“What I need to do. If you try and stop me, I’ll drop you, too.” I know he doesn’t believe me, but I’m fucking beyond furious. I keep the gun and my gaze on Grant. “Take Scarlett and the kid.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” says Scarlett.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough? You got yourself all tangled up in this shit because you used yourself as bait for these bastards.”
“For my family?” She starts to approach me, but there’s a scuffle when Smith intercedes and leads her out, before coming back for Amelia.
“Close the door.”
“Damn it, Malone, we have the list and?—”
“This fucker, Grant, put his hands on Scarlett. Was willing to sell his daughter and niece, weren’t you?” I snarl.
“They have it coming, and Amelia isn’t mine.” He looks at me, mouth twisting into disdain. “You would have done the same.”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
From the floor, a very groggy Dale tries to sit up. “Wait…”
“Shut your fucking mouth, you rapist.”
“Rape…?” Dale stares up at me. “What are you talking about?”
I take a long hard look at Grant. He’s shaved since I last saw him, the salt-and-pepper beard gone. I didn’t even fucking notice until now.
