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The convoy of vehicles speeds down the road toward the city. Declan has already called in a favor with the local PD, so we have an unobstructed route to the club where the Russians often lurk.
We come to a screeching halt in front of the club, the doors are shoved open, and we pile out with our guns raised. The two bouncers guarding the entrance don’t have a chance to reactbefore bullets are lodged in their skulls and they crumble to the ground.
“All right everyone, look alive, and watch your six.” Declan’s voice rings through our comms.
Finn and Rhys order groups to surround the perimeter while I lead the group with Declan who will be breaching the front doors.
“Everyone in position?” Rhys asks and replies of confirmation follow.
“All right, let’s move.”
We quickly open the door and creep inside. The stench of cheap cigars, sweat, and sex fill the air. The thrum of the bass reverberates through my chest as we stalk down the darkened hallway. Women dressed in bikinis that barely cover their tits and pussies press against the walls with wide eyes.
I bring my finger to my mouth, gesturing for them to keep quiet, and they nod rapidly. Once we’ve passed them, they scurry away on their sky-high heels.
“Avoid killing any women, if possible,” Declan says through the comms.
“Aye,” we reply.
The hallway opens to a room shadowed in red and blue lights. A scrawny woman is dancing naked on a stage directly in the center of the room. The place is filled with men smoking cigars and nursing clear liquid that I assume is vodka. I fire at the man closest to me – hitting him in the back of the head – he slumps over and his head smacks against the table.
The room is thrown into a warzone as the Russians stand and draw their weapons. A bullet whizzes past me and hits the man behind me in the chest. I quickly check that he’s good before returning fire.
Glass shatters, tables are overturned to be used as shields, and shouts in Russian and Irish are exchanged in quick succession.
I fire until I have no choice but to reload. I crouch slightly next to the bar and change the magazine before rising to my feet and firing again. Declan and Rhys are pushing through the carnage, heading toward the hallway leading to the backrooms in search of Vladimir.
This isn’t a fight. This is a massacre.
Just as it should be.
"On your left!” someone shouts, and I turn in that direction just as an excruciating burn slices across my arm.
“Shite!” I grunt and look down at the wound in my left arm. It seems like the bullet went through, so I ignore the pain and fire back.I fucking missand he ducks behind a table.
“Shite,” I mutter under my breath.
I crouch behind an upturned table closest to me and press my back against the underside. I’m panting from the adrenaline coursing through me. Screams from the women ring in my ears and I feel the thump of bodies meeting the floor.
Blood flows down my arm, staining my shirt, and dripping down my fingers.
Feck. I need to stop the bleeding long enough to finish this.
Finn kneels next to me and rips the bottom of my shirt. He quickly wraps it around my arm and knots the ends. The blood saturates the fabric, but it will have to be enough for now.
“Get your ass back out there,” he orders and then takes off back into the fray.
I haul myself up and rejoin the fight.
When the final body has dropped, we start working to remove our wounded and dead.
The pain in my arm has reduced to a low ache, allowing me to lift men from where they’ve fallen.
“Vladimir escaped before we could reach him,” Declan growls through clenched teeth once we’ve returned to the estate. The doctors and surgeons on our payroll are tending to the severelywounded. Those of us who returned to the estate are working to unload the remaining weapons. The others are continuing to clear out the bodies of our men.
The local PD has given us an hour to clear out before they swoop in, so everything is still a blur of men running around and orders being barked.
A sudden wave of dizziness hits me, and I stumble, falling against the van.
