by Celia Aaron
I turned as a white four-wheeler barreled past, its rider firing wildly at me with a handgun. One shot, and he was on the ground, his ATV slowing into an idle. The bark exploded next to my head as the men who’d survived the grenades regrouped around the Humvees. I hurdled the rider’s body and jumped onto the four-wheeler. Opening the throttle, I took off through the grounds, rain stinging my face. Staying low, I gunned the ATV around a copse of trees and looped back. Another ATV flashed through the grounds ahead of me, the rider spraying the trees with bullets.
I sped toward him, turned broadside, then whipped my right arm out and shot him right through his helmet. He fell off and rolled, dead before he hit the ground.
The gunfire around the Humvees continued, and I aimed the ATV back toward them. Yells and shots filled the air as I buzzed past the traffic jam. Half a dozen men remained, all of them huddled around the vehicles. Bullets lodged into the four-wheeler, and one must have hit something important, because I lost speed, the motor dying. I rolled off and crouched behind a tree.
Sighting around the trunk, I picked off two more men with headshots, their blood spraying onto their comrades as they hit the pavement. Four left. Foot soldiers that Vince had no problem sending into a meat grinder. They scattered around the cars, trying desperately to survive. They wouldn’t.
A boom cut through the pops of smaller bore shots, and one of the men dropped. I glimpsed Nate hiding at the bumper of the third Humvee, in his hands a military-grade pump action shotgun.
I stared at the Humvees as everything went quiet, the whisper of rain at odds with the massive amounts of shots that filled the air only moments ago.
“You cunts out of bullets?” Nate yelled and then laughed like a lunatic.
I eased closer, peeking through the windows to see where the last two men were hiding.
Another boom. Nate crept along the side of the Humvee as a man dropped to the ground, a hole through his gut. By my count, only one guy was left.
Nate eased toward me, his twelve-gauge tucked into his shoulder as he tried to catch the final man in his sights. A shadow behind Nate shifted.
“Duck!”
Nate hit the deck as I fired twice, once in the heart and once in the head. The final man pulled the trigger, a bullet intended for Nate embedding harmlessly into the pavement. He fell forward, his gun clattering to the ground.
One step closer to Charlie.
“Come on.” I pulled out a fresh mag and slid it home while Nate did the same for his handguns.
We hurried the rest of the way to the house, keeping to the sides of the driveway. No more men greeted us, not until we got close.
A pop sounded from behind us, and pain erupted in the center of my back. I ducked and rolled, then looked up to find who’d shot me.
No one there, just the sound of laughter through the trees. “Nice to see you again, Connie.”
“Fucking Ramone.” Nate knelt and aimed, trying to get a bead on the hit man. “You okay?”
“My vest took the bullet.” I jerked my chin toward the house. “Keep going.”
“What?” Nate narrowed his eyes, as if that would give him the ability to see through the rain and the trees, right to where Ramone was hiding.
My back ached like a motherfucker, but I needed Nate to find Charlie. “Ramone is my problem. I’ll handle him. You go get yourself a warm welcome like we discussed, then find Charlie and wait for me.”
“You sure you got this?” Nate wrinkled his brow. “Ramone’s a fucking psycho.”
“And what am I?”
Nate cocked his head and nodded. “Good point.” He pulled a grenade from inside his coat. “See you inside, motherfucker.”
33
Charlie
I shivered and tried to cover myself as the men stared. My clothes lay in a heap at my feet. Humiliation boiled my blood, and fear kept me rooted to the spot in front of Vince.
“Nice. Better than nice, really.” He’d smoked his cigar down to a nub. “Berty, you ready for a go?”
Berty stood and walked over to me, standing only a few inches away. He licked his lips, the spit lingering along his pale flesh. “I’ve been ready.”
“Too bad.” Vince stood and took my arm. “This is called a learning experience. I get first taste.” He squeezed my upper arm with a vise grip. “I’m always first. It doesn’t matter that you want her. It doesn’t matter that you’re blood. You’ll always be behind me. Understand?”
“Blood?” The question left my lips before I could swallow it.
Vince smirked and rested his free hand at my throat. “Serge never had any kids. I fucked his wife off and on until she got too old. Dumb bitch managed to get knocked up with this idiot. Serge, for all he tried to hide it, was lacking in certain areas.” He moved closer, his mouth at my ear. “I can assure you I’m not lacking at all.” When he pressed my palm to his erection, I suppressed my gag reflex.
Everything clicked into place. Vince was protecting Berty, his son. Ramone, the high bounty, the price on Conrad’s head—all of it because Berty was blood.
“Let’s go.” Vince grabbed my ass and pushed me toward the door. “Might as well pass some time while we wait for your boyfriends to show up.”
Berty scowled as I left the room, Vince at my back.
“He’s going to kill you. All of you.” My feet slapped on the wood floor. Two more armed men stood at the end of the hallway.
“He’s going to try.” Vince shoved me into the first open door on the right—a small guest bedroom, the décor floral and feminine. “But I’ve got two dozen men standing between him and me. All armed to the teeth. I also have an insurance policy.” He pushed me onto the bed.
A cacophony of gunfire erupted from somewhere outside. My heart soared. He was here. I could feel him approaching, like a tidal wave of wrath.
Vince paused, then continued as if World War III wasn’t happening on his front lawn. “Your friends have arrived right on time.”
I scooted away until my back hit the cold iron headboard.
“He’ll kill them all. Then you.” I clutched a pillow to my body. “You can’t stop him.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’m throwing everything I have at him. If he still makes it to me, he can take his best shot. But it won’t do you any good.” He rubbed his index finger along his bottom lip and eyed my legs. “This is going to go one of two ways. Either Con gets killed trying to save you, or Con manages to survive long enough to get to you. For his troubles, he’ll watch me put a bullet in your head. Either way, you aren’t going to survive the hour.” He unbuckled his belt, his stubby fingers fumbling with the leather and metal. “But there’s no point in wasting you before I’ve had my fun.”
I wouldn’t let this happen to me, not without a fight. The nightstand next to me had a short, squat lamp. It appeared to be some sort of silvery metal with enough heft to do damage. I edged toward it as Vince pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and aimed it at me.
“On your knees.” He walked around to my side of the bed, sureness in his footfalls. “I bet a pretty girl like you doesn’t let guys in her ass. I bet Con hasn’t even taken a turn. I’ll be your first and your last. Make sure you scream when I shove it in. And don’t worry about lube. Your blood will take care of it.”
I dry heaved and clutched the pillow as if it were a lifeline, but I didn’t move. If I complied, I would have no chance at the lamp. But his gun didn’t care about my dilemma. The metal demanded compliance.
“Would you like me to wound you so you know how serious I am? I’m a gentleman, so I’ll be happy to do that for you.” He pressed the barrel to the top of my foot and pulled out his dick with the other hand.
I refused to cry, refused to let him see the anguish that buried me like sand in an hourglass. I turned to my side, though I kept my gaze on him. He tucked his gun back into the holster and placed his right hand on my hip.
The gunfire lessened, only intermittent pops cutting through the rain.<
br />
“I suspect your boyfriend is already face down out there.” He was comfortable, unafraid, and complacent.
This was my chance, my only chance. I shot my arm out and grabbed the lamp.
34
Conrad
“Let’s handle this like professionals.” Ramone eased out from behind a tree about thirty feet away, his pistol aimed at me.
His snide tone set my teeth on edge, but I walked out to meet him, my gun trained on him.
“It’s been too long.” He drew a blade from his jacket pocket and held it underhand, street-fighting style. “I’d like to do this the old way, if that’s all right with you. I’ve trained a bit since our last dustup.”
I didn’t have time for his games, but we were in a standoff. I couldn’t turn my back on him, even though the need to get to Charlie threatened to block out all thought. And he’d shoot me just as soon as I pulled my trigger. Fuck.
“Come on, just a friendly little knife fight, then you can rescue the girl.” He grinned. “You’ll have to do it one-handed, though, since I intend to leave you with your guts pooled in the other.”
Tick tock. “I could have skewered you in Boston.” I holstered my pistol at the same time he did, and pulled my knife from inside my jacket sleeve. Warm from my skin, it practically vibrated in my hand. I needed to make quick work of Ramone.
“You almost did.” He felt along the side of his stomach with his free hand. “Still have the scar to prove it. Why’d you hold off?”
He bent his knees as the rain kept pouring, slicking his greasy hair against his head.
“Professional courtesy, I suppose. And I didn’t have a contract on you.”
He spat. “You don’t have one now, either.”
I smirked. “I’m fresh out of professional courtesy, too.” I feinted forward with my knife and threw a haymaker with my left hand. It barely missed his nose.
He danced back, his eyes lighting with the thrill of life or death competition. “I told you. Practice.” He moved in closer, the two of us circling as the lightning crackled overhead. “Tell me how you liked my little welcome home surprise back at the cabin.” His eyes darted to my bandaged hands, then he rushed forward. I turned and backed away, but he caught me on my upper arm, slicing through to my skin.
Fuck. I pretended to inspect the wound. He lunged for my throat. I leaned to the right, grabbed his jacket, and yanked him forward. He stumbled, his left arm waving for balance. I slashed down and across, cutting through his jacket, but the blade slipped harmlessly along his vest. I’d have to wait for my moment, wait for him to get sloppy.
He whirled and came at me, his blade whispering through the air.
I hit the ground and rolled, then got to my feet. Gunfire and yelling echoed through the trees—Nate giving them hell at the house. I had to end this and get to Charlie.
“Tell me something.” He shot his left hand out in a sharp jab that exploded against my temple, splitting the skin and sending blood down the side of my face. I countered with a punch to his ribs, right where the jacket had a gap and swiped at his throat with my blade. Missed.
He huffed and backed away. “Is she worth it? All this?” He waved his knife toward the gun battle going on at the house.
“This and more.” I circled, looking for a weakness, my shoes sinking into the cold, wet earth more and more with each step.
“Pussy that good, huh?” He wiped the water from his forehead, slicking his hair up in an odd cowlick. “I should have gotten a hit before Vince started reaming her out.”
I tightened, my shoulders tensing up until I thought they’d hit my ears.
He grinned and moved closer. “Yeah, probably right about now he’s shooting her full of his come. Then maybe he’ll strangle her with his bare hands. Maybe choke her with his cock. Who knows?”
Fury overcame the freeze that kept me grounded, that always gave me the upper hand. Ramone was just a distraction. I needed to end him.
I darted forward and sliced toward his throat again. He blocked with his arm, then swiped low across my hip. A jolt of pain cut through me, and I stumbled, leaning against the nearest tree as hot blood seeped through my boxers, pants, and began running down my leg. The cut was deep.
He approached slowly, knowing a wounded animal was the most dangerous thing in the wild. “Isn’t it better that I’m taking care of you right now? So you don’t have to see what happened to your girl?” His attempt at comfort fell flat, especially given the note of triumph in his voice.
I faltered on the tree, sliding down to the marshy ground, my knife slipping from my fingers. He moved closer, scenting the kill, hungry for the end.
“Save her.” My voice sounded weak even to my ears. “Save her, and everything I have is yours.”
He gripped my hair and yanked my head back so I looked up into his dark eyes. “Everything you have is already mine. Berty guaranteed it. All I have to do is bring him your head.” He poised the knife at my throat.
I shoved my knife hard and deep under his vest, into his gut. His eyes widened, surprise replacing his smile. Letting me go, he stumbled backwards, his hands going to the wound in his belly.
I climbed to my feet and towered over him, the knife from my ankle strap still in my hand.
“Con.” He pressed his palms to the wound, blood seeping between his fingers.
I pulled my 9 mm from its holster and fired one shot. The bullet hit right next to Ramone’s eye. He staggered and fell.
Getting to Charlie was the only thing on my mind, the only reason I’d made it this far. I hurried past Ramone, ignoring the pain in my hip. “See you in hell, motherfucker.
35
Charlie
Vince’s eyes widened when he saw me grab the lamp, and he backed up a step, but I brought the hefty base around in an arc and caught him on the jaw. The cord ripped from the wall as he stumbled back and reached for his gun. I swung again, nailing him in the hand and snapping some of his fingers with the impact. His scream pierced the air, ending my escape attempt. Even through the gunfire going on outside, his men must have heard him. They would shoot me down the moment they opened the door.
Vince cradled his wounded right hand and wailed. I yanked his pistol from its holster and ducked behind the bed as a series of explosions boomed somewhere close. The floorboards shook, and the windows rattled. More gunfire, yelling, and pounding feet told me that Conrad had arrived. It couldn’t have been anything else.
I pointed the gun at Vince. “Shut up!”
“You filthy cunt. I’ll have each of my men rape you. Your pussy, your ass, everything—until you beg me for death. You are fucking dead. Conrad? I’ll make him watch. Then I’ll make him skull fuck your dead body!”
My grip tightened on the lamp, and rage like I’d never felt before washed over me like a tidal wave. I swung once more, slamming the metal into Vince’s face and crushing his nose. His howls rose above the gunfire. I scrambled to my feet and aimed the gun at his head. I blinked. Brandon knelt in front of me, blood seeping into his shirt, his eyes wide as the life left them. Could I do it again? Take another life? Con said it would get easier each time, so why were my hands shaking?
The hall door burst open, and I swung the gun around. Con dashed in. Blood streaked down one side of his face, his eyes wild. When he saw me, a guttural noise rose from his throat. He slammed the door behind him, hurdled the bed, and pulled me into his arms. My heart rose above the gore, the death, the evil words of cruel men, and I was home.
“Charlie.” Just one choked word, his emotion churning the air around us. I clung to him, though he held one arm out, his gun pointed at Vince’s head. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks then my lips. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no.” I shook as he wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me.
“Did he…”
“No.” I shook my head. “He was going to, but I used the lamp.”
He aimed a hard kick to Vince’s ribs.
Vince screamed a
nd curled into the fetal position.
One side of Con’s lips quirked up. “Thorns. He didn’t watch out for the thorns.”
Footsteps pounded down the hall, followed by rapid shots and heavy thuds.
“Tony, that you?” Nate’s voice filled the silence left by the gunfire. “I ever tell you I fucked your sister last year?”
“You mother—”
The pop of gunfire ended Tony’s tirade.
Con turned his head and yelled. “Bedroom on the left.” He yanked the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders, then pulled me to his chest again. He wore a bulletproof vest beneath his shirt, thank god.
The door opened, and Nate strolled in, a Cheshire cat grin on his face as he surveyed the moaning Vince. “What, no scissors this time?”
“Lamp.” I jerked my chin toward what was left of it.
“Well, holy shit.” He laughed and pressed his back to the wall. “You bagged Vince fucking Stanton, the biggest crime boss in all of Philly, with a lamp?” He swiveled his head back to the door. “If Con didn’t have you locked up tight, I’d definitely make a play.”
Conrad’s chest vibrated with something akin to a growl.
“I said she’s yours, man. Relax.” Nate replaced the magazine on his pistol, cocked it, then did the same with two other pistols hidden under his jacket.
I still had Vince’s gun in my hand. The unforgiving steel brought back bad memories along with a strange sense of calm. I could defend myself. No one would hurt me.
“What’s the lay of the land?” Con kept me close.
Nate motioned toward the TV room. “Handful of them holed up in the rec room. Including Berty.” He walked to Vince and toed him in the ribs. “Fancy seeing you here. Con, you going to do the honors?”
Con nodded. “Might as well.”
“Wait!” Vince held his bloodied hands out. “If you kill me, my men will hunt you down to the ends of the earth.” His words slurred, his blood spraying lightly with each syllable.
