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A straggly line of men, likely to be raskols, ran in, weaving past the trucks. As they passed downed guards, they shot them again.
By the time I was freed, Jurgen, Glass, and Randall had arrived toting scoped rifles. Now I knew who the first shooters had been. Rescuers, not worse. My heart slowed as relief washed in.
There were none still alive, except a moaning and crawling Gregor. The client lay silent and twisted with his cock still out and limp and half his chest blown away. My finger hurt but a man had tied it off with a cloth tourniquet before releasing me.
Sounds were muted. My head rang from a round that’d spun past my ear.
Jazmine clutched at my leg, wiping her face. “Show me your hand.”
“It’s fine. I’ll fix it after.”
“God, I’m sorry. I wish... Do you know these people?” The last was whispered after she climbed up and stood, and she stared up at me, desperately hoping.
“Yes. They’re friends. Wait. I’ll be back. Sit down on the chair. Okay?” I led her to it and made her sit.
A grim job waited for me.
After a quick hug, I went to Gregor, collecting the chunky stool on the way.
Glass followed me over, asking distant questions in his ridiculous Brit accent that I’d never been so happy to hear.
I watched Gregor claw at the ground whimpering, his face in the mud. Gloating wasn’t my thing...normally.
“Hello, you fucker.” I spat on him then kicked his side, drawing a small, coughing moan.
Disappointing, that I hadn’t boots on.
“You know, Gregor,” I croaked out, past the rage clogging my throat. “Evil bastards like you die because you make too many enemies. One day, the hate spills over, and you drown in it.”
I kicked him again, harder, and hefted the stool by one leg, considering my options. Heavy timber. The things he’d done to me and Jaz. A hundred times over, I’d killed him in my imagination. Beating him to a pulp with the stool would leave me satisfied but disgusted. Just standing over him, breathing in some of the putrid air he’d breathed out, and watching his wormlike movements, made me want to vomit.
“Your Ruger.” I held out my hand to Glass, giving him a bare smile. We went way back and didn’t need fancy hellos.
“Yeah?” He drew it from his holster and gave it to me. His bright white blond mohawk and aviator sunglasses stood out like a model ad billboard in a swamp. The man had perfected rugged male chic and his girlfriends knew it. “Who’s he?”
“The bad guy.”
Shooting him in the dick might be justice but I didn’t want to see his face while he still lived. I put a round into the back of Gregor’s head and he stilled instantly. Blood puddled under him. Then I emptied the rest of the clip until the back of his head was mush. The front? I flipped him over with my foot. Worse. Grass and dirt stuck to him, but he didn’t have a face anymore, just blood, meat, bone chips, and frothy redness.
Glass whistled. “Guess he wasn’t a nice man?”
“Fokken understatement of the year.”
Blood had spattered all over my legs and I prayed reincarnation was real because if he came back I could kill him again.
But it was done. Jazmine? I turned and saw her wide eyes fastened on Gregor, her mouth half open in shock. Then she shifted her gaze to me and her expression didn’t change.
My stomach flopped. Had I done bad again?
“Who is she?” Glass holstered the gun. “And man, we need to get that finger fixed.”
“A...friend.”
Holy crap. We were free. Damn finger was leaking again. I held the base of the stump, grimacing as I scanned the surroundings again for enemy and found nothing. Though the raskols were a worry. “Are they safe?”
“Yes. As safe as we can get.”
Jazmine was looking lost and everything in me was yelling go to her but there were things I had to say.
