Page 85 of The Fixer

Diving for the weapon, I landed on top of him, knee hitting the ground, hand hitting the muzzle of the gun, brushing it away. Niles rolled, knocking me off balance.

Knocking me to the floor.

He was on me in an instant, hands at my throat while he pinned me down with his legs.

“Why won’t you die?” he yelled, squeezing tight. I gripped his wrists, pulled down as my hips bucked up. He went flying, but I was still holding his arms. He had nothing to stop him, and his face smashed into the ground.

I threw my arms around his waist, holding tight, wiggling upward until I was locked around his chest. Blood fell from his face as he struggled against me, the drops landing on my forehead and sliding into my hair.

I brought my knee up, crushing between his legs. He gave a yelp, muscles reacting to the severe pain. He was helpless, cupping himself on his side in the middle of the aisle, and I pushed and kicked to get out from under him, racing for the gun.

He reached out for me, grabbing one ankle before I could get too far. He pulled me back, but he wasn’t protected, not with one hand still gripping at the sore spot between his legs. I kicked at him, his hand, his arm, finally landing a good one on his face. He let go, and by the time I turned on him, he was holding both his balls and his nose.

“Who are you?” he groaned, and I rose to my feet, gun pointed at him as a calming voice wound through my head.

You are strong. You are worthy. You will never be alone.

“I’m Charlie and Caroline Westbrook’s daughter,” I told him, sucking in a sharp breath. “My parents were taken from me too soon, and I will not stand by as their murderer gets away.”

Engines echoed through the garage, the noise deafening as it ricocheted against the cement walls. The sounds of motorbikes. Niles’s lips twitched up. He uncurled himself, climbing to his knees.

Those motorbikes that had chased us through the streets of New York. They were there, coming at us from both sides. One stopped before us, the man a good thirty feet away.

The gun trembled in my hand, but I wouldn’t put it down.

“Alvarez,” Niles yelled, spitting a glob of blood to the floor. “I paid you to take care of this.”

The man on the bike just shrugged. “Guess we missed.”

“I didn’t pay you to fucking miss.”

“You didn’t pay me enough, period.”

“Take care of this!” Niles demanded, pointing his finger at me.

Alvarez swung his leg off his bike. Every one of the other bikers followed suit, the whole lot of them pulling out their guns, training their muzzles at the ground.

Niles balked, eyes narrowing as a scowl ripped across his face. “What are you doing, you idiot?”

“You’re calling me an idiot?” Alvarez scoffed. He drew his gaze across the parking garage, hands raised at his sides, palms up. “Do you believe this guy? He asks me to go after this girl, pays me fifty grand to take her out, and he doesn’t have a clue who she is. And he’s calling me an idiot?”

A murmur rushed, the men shaking their heads as they holstered their guns.

“You see,” Alvarez said, turning back to Niles, “this girl? She’s untouchable. And if you had any clue about anything, you would have known that.”

“What are you talking about?” Niles sputtered, blood dripping from his lips.

Alvarez didn’t have to respond. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and gave a wicked smile. The sounds of car doors opening was answer enough.

Jet stepped out from a car behind me, while Mateo, Zee, Queenie, and the four men from Jet’s crew I’d met just that morning exited theirs. They came out of hiding, joining the circle of bikers that had already caged us in.

It was then, when Niles saw Jet beside me, that it seemed to finally hit. The man shook his head, that scowl dropping from his face as his pleading eyes turned to me.

“Eliza, you can’t do this,” he said, not much of a plea in his voice. It was more a command, as if he felt he could still boss me around, tell me what to do. He was trembling as he pushed to his feet. His gaze shifted over the circle of bikers and Jet’s crew standing around. “You can’t kill me.”

“Who says?” Jet asked, hands rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

Niles shook his head, pure arrogance dancing across his face. “You said it yourself. Everyone’s leaving you. You have no family left. I’m all you’ve got. You want that on your conscience?”