Page 87 of Little Bird


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I glanced over at Dagger, whose expression was much the same. Anyone would’ve thought he looked bored by what he was hearing if it weren’t for the feathering in his jaw that gave him away. Returning my attention to Hawk, I shoved the gun harder into his temple, then withdrew it. Holding the gun down my thigh, I waited for him to spill more of his secrets. Men like Hawk—a hustler and a thief—always had more secrets to spill.

“Why did you go to Sanderson for that money?”

Hawk closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Sanderson approached me. He told me he’d give me the money, but I had to work for him. If I didn’t, he’d destroy Wren and her business.”

“To get to me, right?”

He nodded, the motion making him swing a little. “He wanted you to suffer.”

“I wantedyouto realize what a fucking mistake you’d made,” a dark voice said behind us.

I spun around to find Sanderson standing in the doorway of the warehouse. Dagger unfolded his arms and reached for the H&K slung across his body. Sanderson’s gaze briefly flickered over to him before returning to me.

“You couldn’t have just left shit alone, could you, Rivera?” He strolled casually into the room, coming a little closer. “If you had, none of those kids would’ve died. They would’ve been working for me instead of you, but you had to flood No Man’s Land with your cheap coke and cash in.”

I shrugged. “I’m a businessman, just like you. There was a hole in the market.”

The other man ground his teeth. “No Man’s Land was something Manzetti and I agreed on. That territory put an end to decades of fighting between us, to bringpeaceback to the community, then you swan in and start dealing, start takingourdealers from us.”

I barked a laugh. “You’re whining to me like I give a shit. I don’t, Sanderson. I don’t give a shit that I’ve stepped on your toes. You think I’m some punk-ass bitch who doesn’t know what he’s doing? I knowexactlywhat I’m doing. I’m building a fucking empire, and you and Manzetti are standing in the way.”

His lips peeled back from his teeth. “You’re a little kid playing in the big boys’ sandbox.”

I shook my head slowly. No, I wasn’t the kid here. I was the goddamn king. “I hope you’ve got all your affairs in order, Sanderson.”

Flinty gray eyes clouded over with rage. “If I don’t come back from this meeting, Manzetti has orders to bring you fucking down, to burn yourempireto the ground.”

“I’m not talking about killing you, you egotistical fuck. I’m talking about the cops arresting you for drug possession, intent to distribute, and the murder of three Los Angeles police officers.”

“What are you talking about?” He narrowed his eyes. “That was your warehouse. Your coke. Your fucking C4.” Laughing, he added, “You fucked yourself up the ass with that stunt today.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I lost myself some cash with those drugs going up in smoke, but I’m happy with that decision because it wasn’t my name on the deed to that warehouse. It was yours.”

I watched as my words hit him, contorting his face into an ugly mask of rage. “You motherfucker, I’ll fucking end you.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his Glock. I dove to the floor, crawling behind the oil drum underneath Hawk. Dagger pulled the trigger too, the sound of bullets ricocheting around the warehouse. Something wet hit me on the face, and I reached up to wipe it away, my fingers coming back red. My gaze traveled up to find two holes in Hawk’s body, one in his head, one that had gone through his chest and exited through his back.

Gunshots were still bouncing around the space, and I cursed when even more joined them. It looked like Sanderson’s men were here now too. Leaning around the drum, I squeezed off a couple of rounds, hitting one of the three newcomers in the thigh. With any luck, I hit the femoral artery, and he was well on the way to bleeding out. Ducking back, I tried to get a sense of where everyone was and in what kind of condition. I took another look to find Dagger taking cover behind two drums on one side of the warehouse while Sanderson and his two remaining men were on the other.

Silence fell over the warehouse as each man reloaded, the distinct sound of metal sliding on metal piercing my eardrums. I checked my own gun and found that I had at least another five rounds in there. I didn’t have another clip, which meant I had to use what I had wisely. While there was a lull, I stood and ran to Dagger, sliding in beside him as a bullet pinged against the drum I’d taken cover behind.

“Are you good?” I asked him.

He grimaced but nodded. “I’ll take out the other two,” he said in a low rumble. “You focus on Sanderson.”

Bringing up my gun, I gave the signal, and we both stepped free of the drums. Dagger’s submachine gun’sratta-tatta-tatwas music to my ears. He easily mowed down one of Sanderson’s men whose weapon had jammed on him. He fell to the warehouse floor in a tangle of bloody limbs. The other guy was proving more difficult. They both ran out of ammo at the same time, the men discarding their weapons and slinging fists this time.

I came at Sanderson while he let his soldier fight for him. Zig-zagging toward him, he tried to shoot me, but every shot missed. Leaping on top of the drum he was taking cover behind, I unloaded what was left of my clip into the top of his head. Blood and gray matter sprayed, hitting me in the legs and torso. Sanderson fell to the concrete, his expression set in surprise.

I turned to find Dagger and the other guy rolling around on the floor together, knives in their hands. Bringing out my knife from the sheath on my ankle, I dived into the fray, slashing at Sanderson’s man with precision. He was quick, though, and my underestimation of him earned me a slash across my chest. Blood welled, but the cut was shallow and didn’t slow me down.

We circled the fucker, feeling like we were in some 1950s gang film. The guy’s brown eyes darted around the warehouse, looking for a way out.

“The only way out of here is in a body bag,” I growled.

Flipping the dagger in his hand, he changed grip and came at me, slashing. Leaning back, I missed each arc of his blade, giving Dagger the advantage by distracting him. The guy was so focused on me, he didn’t see Dagger coming. Dagger sank his knife into the man’s throat, driving the steel through the flesh where his shoulder and neck met. Blood spewed from the wound, gushing down to the dusty warehouse floor. He weaved on his feet for a moment, clutching at the wound like that would stem the flow. Staggering toward the door, he reached the handle and pressed it down. Dagger looked at me with his brows raised. I simply shook my head. There was no way this little fucker was walking out of here.

Sanderson’s man took a lurching step before falling face-first into the dirt. Blood pumped from his neck, pooling on the ground in a macabre black puddle. Turning around, I looked at the carnage, then at the three corpses that weren’t there fifteen minutes ago.

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