by Celia Loren
Addison watched as Owen’s right hand crept up to his waistband, to the gun he had tucked there.
“I know you better than you know yourself, Owen. Drop the knife and finish this business the right way,” Viktor repeated.
Addison watched in horror as Owen pulled the gun out of his waistband and slid his hand around the grip. His eyes moved to hers, and he smiled coldly.
“I’ll only say it one more time, Owen. Drop the knife,” Viktor said, his voice rising slightly.
In one fluid movement, Owen spun around and raised the gun. Addison saw Viktor’s eyes widen, and then he fell to the ground as a shot rang out. She cried a strangled, unintelligible scream.
Viktor fell back against the open door, dropping his gun. A red bloom began to spread across his chest, and he slid down to the floor. Addison sank to the ground too, staring at him.
Viktor’s eyes glazed over, and he looked up at Owen in shock. He took a strangled breath, and tried to speak. Addison covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face. She watched as his head sank to his chest, and he stopped moving. She sat there frozen, watching as the blood continued to seep out of his body, flowing onto the floor.
Owen stood calmly, watching him die, then turned to Addison.
“There,” he said. “No more interruptions.”
Just as he finished speaking, a blast of explosives rocked the building.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
15 minutes earlier...
Cutler and the rest of the Devil's Reapers pulled up and parked their bikes and van down the block from the building, careful to make as little noise as possible. Cutler felt completely focused; all his fear and tension focused on this mission.
Ajax jumped out of the van carrying homemade explosives, and the rest of the Reapers followed suit, each wielding their firearms of choice.
“Shit, you’ve been stockpiling,” Cutler whispered.
“Yeah, well, you never know when you’re going to need to blow something up,” Ajax replied, smiling mischievously.
Greyson appeared next to them “No cameras,” he reported. “This is an old warehouse; they must just be using the place temporarily—they haven’t set up a full security system. The windows are all blacked out though, can't tell how many's inside.”
Cutler’s jaw tightened. This was their only lead. If Addison wasn’t here they’d have no other options, nowhere else to look for her. If she was even still alive.
“Well, let’s operate on the assumption she is in there. We need to get in quickly before they have a chance to do anything to her,” he said.
Greyson nodded. The Reapers gathered around him, quiet and intense.
“There are three floors. We’ll split up into three groups and take them all at once. If we give them any time, they might take out Addison before we can get to her. As soon as Ajax takes out that steel door, we’ll move. I’ll lead the group through the first floor, Barrow will lead on the second, and Cutler, you take the third. Ready?” He asked, making eye contact with his brothers as he looked around the circle. They nodded back grimly in return. “Ajax, your move.”
The Reapers filed out to the door of the factory, crouching low to the ground. They lined up a safe distance away from the door on the wall as Ajax got to work setting up the explosives. Cutler pulled the slide back on his Glock, and heard answering clicks from around him as the other Reapers did the same.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out his worst fears from his mind as he imagined what he might find in this building.
Ajax jogged away from the door to the right, pulling his gun out as he went. The Reapers looked up at him, and he held up his hands to signal how much time they had. Five...four...three...two...he counted on his fingers, and the door exploded open. The metal blew back into the factory, and the Reapers ran in without waiting for the smoke to clear.
Cutler charged up to the smoking opening and was just about to enter when he heard gunfire. The Russians were already recovered from the blast and firing at them now.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. He peeked his head around the frame and saw his brothers crouching behind old factory machinery. At the other end of the room, he could see two Russians crouched behind a metal folding table, exchanging fire with the Reapers. He held up his hand to the Reapers still outside, signaling them to hold.
He looked around the cavernous room. No sign of Addison. He spied the stairs straight across from him. They’d have to run into the Russians’ line of fire to get to them.
“Greyson!” he yelled, trying to get his attention. He was kneeling behind one of the machines, and turned as Cutler called him. Cutler pointed to the stairs, letting him know his intention. Greyson nodded and stood, firing his gun repeatedly, providing Cutler with coverage.
Cutler immediately sprinted across the cement floor, followed by the other Reapers covering the second and third floors. He tore up the stairs, bypassing the second floor door. He heard the second team open that door and run down it. Then he heard yelling and more gunfire—they must have found someone on that floor.
He stopped at the third floor door and crouched, then pushed it open, gun first. The lighting was dim in the hall; only a single fluorescent bulb flickered on the ceiling. He saw a flicker of black dart out of a room about halfway down the hall and jerked back as a bullet pinged off the door just inches from his head. He leaned out of the door more cautiously, just enough so that one eye and his gun were visible. He waited, every nerve in his body alive with adrenaline, and when he saw the flicker again, he squeezed the trigger twice.
The first bullet found the man’s right shoulder, and the second hit him directly in the chest, he gasped as his body whipped backward from the force and he fell to the floor; his gun clattering along the cement. Cutler pushed the door the rest of the way open and charged down the hallway.
“Watch him,” he ordered Lefty, behind him. Lefty grabbed the man’s dropped gun and tucked it into his waistband. He held his own gun to the man’s head, watching as he twitched a few times and then stopped moving.
The other Reapers spread out down the hallway, peering into rooms. Cutler continued down the hallway, checking around an open door. It was empty except for an old desk in the corner. He continued down the hallway toward the last two doors. He spotted an old folding chair lying on the floor, and frowned as he felt glass crunch under his feet. He drew closer to the wall and crept toward the doorway that the chair was lying outside. Shattered glass carpeted the ground. He leaned slowly around the corner, but pulled back sharply when he spotted a man’s legs splayed out on the ground.
What the fuck? His team hadn’t advanced this far—who was this lying on the ground? He knelt to the ground, and quickly poked his head around the door frame and withdrew. He recognized the face immediately: Victor Malitzka, dead. But how?
Cutler heard a whimper from inside the room. Adrenaline shot through him, and he stood up. Addison. Even without words, he knew it was her.
“Addison, is there someone in there with you?” he called. No response. He knew that meant yes.
Steeling himself, he flipped around the door, gun extended, his hands steady. He tried to wrap his mind around what he saw.
Owen had one arm wrapped around Addison’s waist, holding her firmly to the front of his body. The other held a long knife at her throat, already streaked with blood. Her skin dented in at her carotid artery, where the point of his knife was focused. She was still wearing the red dress from last night, but her legs and arms were covered in blood.
Cutler allowed his eyes to drop to Addison’s, wanting to reassure her even as he felt a surge of fear himself at seeing her in this position. Her eyes were filled with fear as she held his gaze. He flicked his eyes up to Owen’s.
“I remember you,” Owen purred. His voice was velvety soft. Cutler’s skin crawled.
Tears flowed out of Addison’s eyes. She was so glad to see Cutler, but she knew she'd put him in danger again.
“I’m
sorry, Cutler,” she whispered.
Pain shot through Cutler’s body at the sound of her voice. It was unbearable for him to see her like this.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he answered.
“Shut the fuck up,” Owen growled.
“You have nowhere to go, Owen,” Cutler said. “The Reapers have taken out all the men downstairs.” He held up his left hand as he saw the rest of his team gathering just down the hallway, watching him carefully. He took a slow step into the room, over Viktor’s lifeless body.
“All I need is this one,” Owen said, wrapping his arm even more tightly around Addison, “and I think I’ll walk out of here with no problem. In fact, why don’t you go ahead and drop your gun now.”
“Let her go, and I give you my word that you will walk out of here unharmed,” Cutler said.
Owen laughed—a high, nasal giggle. “You think I’m going to trust you?”
“Unlike you, I don’t enjoy killing. Just drop the knife,” Cutler said.
“Or what? You'll shoot me? Then this little slut here dies, too. Viktor was right, I should have just killed you when I had the chance and let the Mexican cleaning lady deal with the mess.”
“Then why did you kill him?” Cutler asked, trying to keep him talking.
“I really don’t like it when people tell me what to do.”
Addison tried to think, but her mind was humming with pain and exhaustion. She hated the feeling of Owen’s arm around her stomach, but if it weren’t there, she thought she might fall over. Owen couldn’t win again. He just couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him.
Cutler glared at Owen, his eyes blazing. What could he do? If he lowered his gun, at least there'd be a chance Addison might live. The idea of Owen taking her out of here was abhorrent to him, but anything was better than watching her die. He’d found her once, maybe he could track her down again.
He slowly began lowering his gun. He looked back to Addison, his eyes full of sadness; he couldn’t save her. To his surprise, Cutler saw determination in her expression. He kept his eyes on her—what was she going to do? She frowned and opened her mouth, baring her teeth, then darted her eyes down quickly. Suddenly he knew what she was planning to do, and his eyes lit up.
Quick as a flash, Addison opened her mouth further and bit down as hard as she could on Owen’s right hand, the one that was holding the knife to her throat. She felt the knife pinch slightly into her skin. Owen cried out in surprise and lowered the knife slightly.
Addison heard Cutler’s gun go off, but she kept all her attention focused on Owen’s hand. She could taste iron in her mouth as she pierced his skin with her teeth. She felt his body sag, and she opened her mouth, releasing his hand. Owen stumbled back a step.
She looked up as Cutler squeezed off another round. Without Owen holding her up, she felt her knees give out. She turned to keep an eye on Owen as she collapsed.
Owen was already kneeling as she fell. When she hit the ground, Owen swayed and fell to the ground next to her. She stared into his eyes, and he stared back, shock registering across his face as he realized he was dying, that he had lost. She looked into his blue eyes and could almost imagine that they were lying in bed across from each other in their old apartment, their heads resting on fluffy white pillows.
His eyes glazed over and froze, and Addison realized that she had witnessed his final moments. She felt Cutler’s strong arms scoop her up from the floor as he lifted her into his chest. Her head fell against his broad shoulder as he cradled her. She looked up at him and was greeted by his warm smile, his eyes full of concern and love. She felt his warmth spread through her as though she were receiving his life force by touch.
She cast one last look back at Owen. He was curled up sideways on the ground, his blood in a pool around him. He was so still now. He even looked smaller. It was amazing how much pain and suffering this one man had caused.
A shiver ran through her, and she turned back to Cutler. He turned to the doorway where the Reapers had gathered with their weapons drawn after they'd heard Cutler’s gun go off. They smiled at him and Addison as he stepped toward them, and parted so they could pass through.
“Let us go down first, make sure it’s all clear,” Lefty suggested. Cutler nodded distractedly, his focus now all on Addison.
The Reapers hustled back down the hallway and Cutler followed them slowly, but stopped at the top of the stairwell as they continued down. He looked down at Addison as her lids drooped.
“There’s a lot of blood on you. How bad is it?” He whispered to her, his voice full of concern.
“I think I’m OK. The one on my leg hurts the most.”
He bent his neck and kissed her forehead gently. She smiled up at him.
“You came for me,” she said softly.
“Of course. I don’t want to lose you. I…”
“All clear!” Lefty called from the bottom of the stairwell. Cutler pulled Addison a little closer then made his way down the stairs, moving quickly but trying not to jostle her. She said she was OK, but she looked pale and was having trouble keeping her eyes open.
He walked back onto the first floor as Lefty held the door open for him. The rest of the Reapers were gathered around. He looked to the right and saw the two Russians lying on the floor, dead. He walked forward to Greyson, who was leaning on the wall next to the door holding his shoulder.
“Any casualties?” Cutler asked. Greyson shook his head, no.
“Couple injuries. I took one to the arm here, but the bullet passed right through. A flesh wound,” he said, with a wry smile. “I see you got your girl,” he added.
Cutler smiled, then frowned. “I think she needs medical attention.”
Dallas appeared next to Greyson. “Greta’s an RN. She can meet us back at your place.”
Cutler nodded.
“Let’s move out!” Greyson called, standing up. Ajax ran up to Cutler.
“Hi there, Addison. So glad to see you again,” he said, peering down at her. “Cutler, you get in the van with her. I’ll bring your bike back to your place.” Cutler nodded, and the Reapers streamed out of the warehouse.
Cutler hustled down the street toward the van as he heard other Reapers starting up their bikes. He looked down to Addison as her eyes closed and didn’t reopen. She was so pale.
“It’s OK, Addison. I’ve got you now,” he whispered, but she didn’t respond.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Addison’s eyes fluttered open. A woman she’d never seen before stood over her.
“Who are you? Where am I?” she gasped.
“Sh, sh, don’t move. You’re safe,” the woman reassured her in calming tones.
A split second later, Cutler appeared beside the woman, and Addison felt relief sweep through her body. A wide grin spread across his face.
“Hey you,” he said.
“Hey yourself,” she responded.
“Thanks, Greta,” he said, turning to the woman. “Your patient looks much better.” Greta smiled at him, then she turned, and Addison lost sight of her. She tried to sit up.
“Woah there,” Cutler said, “lie back down.” She relaxed backward and looked around. She was in Cutler’s bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window. He sat next to her on the bed, the mattress sagging a bit under his weight.
“You had me worried for a while there. There was a pretty deep wound on your thigh, and another on your arm. Then there was your fingernail, of course.” He frowned at this evidence of what she'd been through.
“You don’t look so great yourself,” she said, reaching up to touch his swollen nose. She saw her finger was completely bandaged in white gauze.
“I’m still handsome though, right?” he asked smiling.
“Still handsome,” she said, her expression matching his. She brushed her hand across his cheek, her smile disappearing. “Owen and Viktor are dead?” she asked, needing his affirmation. Her memory of the events felt foggy.
“Yes,” Cutler confirm
ed.
“Was that last night?”
“Yes,” Cutler said smiling. “It’s late afternoon now. You slept for a while. I have some chicken noodle soup for you if you’re up to it. You should try to eat; you lost a lot of blood.”
Addison nodded, suddenly famished, and began to sit up. Cutler wagged his finger at her and she laid back down. He reached around her and adjusted her pillows behind her, then took her firmly around the rib cage and gently moved her up to a sitting position.
He then picked up a tray from the bedside table and set it carefully on his lap. He took a spoon and ladled a little soup into it.
Addison watched him, fascinated. Was this the same man who had rescued her last night? He was so tender with her.
He raised the spoon to her lips.
“Make sure the temperature is OK,” he advised, and Addison softly touched her lips to the spoon, then sipped the soup carefully. “Good,” he said, as he returned the spoon to the bowl to refill it. Addison giggled.
“What?” he asked, as brought the spoon to her mouth. She shook her head, smiling. He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously as she swallowed.
“Did you make this soup yourself?” she asked.
“Well, Greta helped a little, but mostly it was me,” Cutler said.
“I didn’t know bikers could be so sweet.”
“Not all bikers. You’re just really, really lucky,” Cutler responded with a glint in his eye. He put the spoon down and reached for a glass of juice. “Here, drink a little. It’s cranberry.”
Addison obediently took a few sips as he tilted it back towards her. He brought it back to the tray, and she yawned.
“Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while?” Cutler suggested.
“Will you stay with me for a little?” she asked, feeling suddenly shy. He beamed at her.
“Of course,” he said. He leaned around her again and adjusted her pillows, then pulled her down slowly so she was lying down again.
He walked over to the other side of the bed. Addison couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his white t-shirt and old blue jeans. She marveled that she could even have that thought in her current state. He sat on the bed and moved over to her, then lay down on his side, facing her. She turned her head to him, and he reached up and smoothed a stray piece of hair out of her face. His hand made its way down to her left hand, and he softly took it in his.
