A captured audience, she watched Quincy grip the antenna. Her breath caught. Dragon fly in amber, her entire life was suspended in this moment as he wiggled the antenna and pulled it free seconds before the light changed from blinking to steady green.
“You did it?” she questioned, afraid to hope. “We’re not going to blow up?”
The relief on his face mirrored her own. Weak with relief, her knees gave out. Her butt plopped onto a cold hard step in the middle of the staircase. Quincy lowered himself next to her, hissing from the movement. He took her hand, squeezing it. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Jentry. Not if I can help it.”
She had no words because his touch and two sentences said enough, and she couldn’t respond. Didn’t know how. She rose. Still holding his hand, she helped him back to his feet. “Let’s get out of here and get you some medical attention.”
They took one step and a deep rumble rolled through the staircase, or was it the entire building? Hard to tell inside the staircase which seemed to shrink and close in around her. Another rumble, and this time the staircase shook, chunks of concrete rained down from above. Jentry screamed as something hit her shoulder. She tugged on Quincy to get him moving, but instead of following the lead to get the fuck out of there, he dropped his arm and pushed her away. She knew his plan, but it was too late for either of them.
The lights winked once, then plunged them into darkness as the ground heaved and the stairs collapsed beneath their feet.
Chapter Fifty-Four
"Hello, brother."
“First time I’ve ever heard that word fall out of your mouth.”
“I think it’s appropriate for today’s events.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes… A final reckoning… Our father would be proud.”
Harden wasn’t sheltering behind one of the overturned tables. He didn’t think he was invincible. He bled just like everyone else, and, one day—hopefully in the far, far future—he would die of old age, in his sleep, next to the woman he loved.
That fantasy had little chance of happening, and he was alright with that as long as Jentry and Allie were okay. If that meant his death, so be it. As long as he took Colin with him.
“I see you brought friends.” Eight of them. Their numbers were equal. “Can’t fight your own battles?”
Colin stretched his arms wide, striking a mafioso pose straight out of The Godfather. De Niro did it better. Colin smirked with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “You got friends. I got friends. I got one of your friends.”
Nick. Damn. “Is he alive?”
“Aw, you care.” Colin chuckled. “I left him in parts.”
Nick had volunteered for the mission. No one forced him, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. In the end, Harden accepted responsibility, the burden of the guilt belonged to him alone. He would mourn the loss. Right now, he had a brother to remove from the family tree. His gaze cut to his men, his family. Pavel, Leonid, Bruno, and the one who wasn’t present, Nick. He owed all four a debt he could never repay…until now.
“Let’s not make this more of a bloodbath when it doesn’t need to be. Come with me and I’ll spare your men.” Colin smiled like a congenial salesman hawking a Yugo. “After all, this is between you and me.”
This may be easier than I thought. Harden smothered his budding excitement and focused. “For once you’re not wrong.” Harden slipped free the buttons on his jacket and let the ten-thousand-dollar silk and cashmere tailored to perfection Saville Row exclusive design fall to the floor. “I tell you what. There’s a lot of money riding on you killing me and me killing you. We start guns blazing, neither one of us is walking out of here.” His gaze swept over Colin’s men. “None of us survives and all the money in offshore accounts sits there forever.”
Harden strongly suspected none of Colin’s men were here out of undying loyalty to Colin, but rather loyalty to the almighty dollar.
“We start shooting, everyone in here dies and the power we crave dies with us. Someone else runs the syndicate. Lose-lose situation.” In other words, they needed him alive. One stray bullet and poof. If Harden didn’t have much to live for, he’d be tempted to royally fuck with Colin and put a bullet in his own head. The ultimate middle finger. Harden did have something to live for. Two particular somethings, and the men he openly called his brothers.
Colin’s eyes narrowed and he stroked the bristle on his chin. The greed in his eyes was a dead giveaway. Harden had him. Colin had taken the bait. Did he feel the hook sinking into his soft palate and reeling him in? Nah, not the arrogant fool, and if he did, the admission would come much too late.
Gaze narrowed, Colin cocked his head to the side, sizing Harden up. “What do you have in mind?”
“You’re looking pretty buff there. Three hots and a cot. Nothing else to do in the joint. All that baby fat just melted away.” Harden had him on height. Colin had him on girth. The man was stocky, built like a Humvee compared to Bruno, who was built like a tank.
All softness had been erased. Hard time did that to a man. It did that to him. Prison taught him how to survive. The streets taught him how to live. “We fight for it. Best man wins.”
He didn’t need to look at his men to feel their beady eyes on him. Shit, Bruno’s gaze was so intense Harden was seconds away from skin cancer.
“Fight, huh?” Colin snorted, and he gave an unconvincing laugh as his gaze roamed the room and the reality of the situation became apparent. Ten guns were trained on him. Pavel and Leonid had freed two weapons each from they’re shoulder holsters. Regardless of the outcome, Colin was a dead man. But then, so was Harden because on the other side of the room every weapon was trained on him.
“How do I know your men will keep your word when you lose.” Colin demanded.
Bruno rose slowly from his place behind a section of the overturned tables, his gun trained on Colin. “You kill him, we walk out of here, leaving you alive,” he said graveyard calm though every word out of his mouth was a lie. Whatever the outcome, Colin was a dead man. He wouldn’t be left alive to hurt anyone Harden loved.
“I kill you, I’ll cut my father’s ring off your finger,” Colin said.
Harden brought his hand up and angled the ring so the overhead lights glinted off its twenty-four-karat gold body. He was tempted to yank it off and toss it to Colin, but he refused to make anything easy for the asshole. If he wanted the ring of their father, he’d have to take it off Harden’s dead body.
“The ledgers. I want the ledgers. The account numbers and their passwords,” Colin added.
“What ledgers?” Bruno beat Harden to the punch.
“The ledgers I beat out of Nick.” Colin’s gaze cut to Bruno, Pavel, and Leonid, and finally Harden. “The ledgers with the trail to all the money.”
A rough, dry laugh erupted from Bruno. “That wily bastard. He fed you a line and you lapped it up like a tongue to virgin pussy.”
Colin fumed, his upper lip curling in a silent snarl. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You want ledgers, we got ledgers. The same ledgers we hand over to the IRS,” Pavel said, rising to his feet. “You want account numbers and passwords, you gotta pry them out of Harden’s head.” He cocked his head at his boss while keeping his guns on target.
“Kill him and the money goes with him to the grave.” Leonid chuckled.
Harden passed his weapons to his men. He pulled off his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped into the center of the room. “Come on, brother. I know you want to beat the shit out of me. You win, I’ll give you the accounts and the passwords before you put a bullet in my head.”
Colin took his time contemplating all his options. There weren’t many, not if he wanted the money. Hard to claim leadership of the syndicate when you’re flat broke and sleeping on your cousin’s sofa. Harden waited patiently as Colin started with his tie and ended with his jacket tossed to the side, and then exploded across the distance separating them.
&nb
sp; Harden didn’t think they were following the Marquess of Queensberry Rules, but he didn’t think the fight would go WWE right out of the gate. He ducked under a roundhouse meant to lift him off his feet and quickly take him out of the game. He could’ve used Colin’s forward momentum to swing behind and catch him in a headlock. Oh, no. Colin didn’t deserve a speedy end. Harden planned on teaching his half brother a lesson.
Colin spun into a right hook that snapped his head and body to the side. The fucker had a hard jaw, but Harden hadn’t given it his all. He pulled his punch, saving the true beating for a bit later. This beating he wanted to enjoy, savor, relish.
Colin came back for more. He latched onto Harden’s shirt and hammered a jab to his face. It was no love tap. It hurt, rung Harden’s bell. However, it wasn’t worse than the paces Bruno put him through when they had time to step into the ring.
They slug it out, holding onto each other for purchase. They went toe to toe, viciously pummeling each other. Colin blocked the next punch, grabbed Harden’s arm, twisted and hooked it under his arm. Then Colin delivered three quick jabs. The first landed solidly, the last two Harden deflected and answered by planting his fist in the center of Colin’s face. A satisfying crunch echoed and blood gushed from his brother’s nose. Then, he reversed the hold and kept plowing his fist into Colin’s face.
Yanking hard to free himself, Colin stumbled, tripped over something on the floor and fell backward. Harden followed him down but his grip had slackened. He’d lost his anchor. Colin grabbed Harden’s shirt, planted his foot in Harden’s abdomen and launched Harden over him.
Harden went flying across the bar, taking out everything on the counter, glasses and liquor alike. He landed behind the crescent structure, bathed in high-end alcohol and suffering from a thousand tiny cuts from the shattered glass. Oh, he hurt, which paled in comparison to his fury.
Done playing, he ignored the pain targeting his entire back and climbed to his feet. A few feet away his brother also climbed to his feet, a knife in his hand and murder in his eye.
You want me? Come and get me. He stretched out his hand and curled his fingers like a lover beckoning their beloved.
Colin charged forward, the blade raised high, leaving him entirely open. Seemed he hadn’t learned much in prison. Then again, Harden had paid to keep him protected, keep him soft, sheltered and in his privileged bubble.
Harden blocked the swipe of the blade and latched onto Colin’s wrist. He spun into his brother’s personal space and drove his elbow into his throat. Colin choked, but he still clutched the knife until Harden brought Colin’s arm down with a hard crack across his thigh. His forearm snapped like a twig. From numb fingers, the blade dropped to the carpet, and Colin right next to it.
Not so fast.
Harden caught the back of Colin’s head. He brought his knee up and connected with the already broken nose. Screaming from the broken arm, the destroyed nose was the icing on the cake. Colin crumbled. He didn’t know what to tend to, his nose or the dangling arm.
It was a beautiful thing to have his big brother crying at his feet. The sound of his pain a symphony of discordant notes stirring the cockles of his heart.
Harden took a knee beside Colin. He picked up the discarded knife. Words were traded above his head. He paid the irate discussion no mind. His men had his back.
“Aida. Tell me how you killed her.” Just two brothers having a pleasant conversation.
Blood gurgled at the rear of Colin’s throat. He couldn’t talk until he rolled onto his side and expelled a wad of blood. He mumbled something which was lost with all the shouting overhead.
Harden raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The room went silent. “I’m waiting. Tell me.”
Rolling in agony, Colin gave Harden his full attention, and laughed. Fucking laughed, through the blood collecting at the back of his throat. “You left her a virgin. Left your wife a virgin. Well, she didn’t die as one.” He coughed and sent blood flying everywhere. “I fucked her good. Six days, I got her addicted to my dick. That was my wedding present to you. Was gonna spring it on you when you got back. I told her as much our last night together. She didn’t take it well.”
Didn’t take it well? His hand circled Colin’s throat and squeezed. “She swallowed twenty-six Xanax. I found her floating in the jacuzzi tub,” he shouted. For years, the guilt killed him. Not many in his life were innocent, but she was, even with a father who sold her to a man she didn’t know, who didn’t want her, and a family that used her.
Sleeping with Colin would’ve been the deal breaker. Harden wouldn’t have hurt her, but dismissed by her husband because of adultery and returned as damaged goods to her father would’ve been a death sentence. And it wouldn’t’ve been easy. Her father would’ve made an example of her, a warning. She was a tool to be used by powerful men, her death would’ve been hard, brutal. A handful of pills was the best she could do in a shitty situation. After all these years he was proud of her, which was fucking hollow.
“Kill me. Go ahead.” Colin wheezed, taunting Harden one last time before his wretched soul departed for hell.
He raised the knife, ready to strike, prepared to end thirty-four years of second-class citizenship, prepared to end his father’s line because he was never an O’Rourke. He was born a Gage and would die a Gage, as would his offspring.
A low-grade earthquake shook the room.
“What the fuck was that?” Pavel said.
“Earthquake,” one of Colin’s men said.
“Moron. New York doesn’t have earthquakes!” For the first time tonight, Bruno was rattled.
A soft kaboom and another earthquake, this one stronger, and getting closer. Another one sounded before Harden leaped to his feet. The ceiling cracked followed by another explosion. That’s what they were, a series of explosions. Bombs! Someone set off bombs in his building.
The room heaved and the ceiling collapsed in chunks of plaster and ductwork.
Harden didn’t move, he couldn’t. Revenge, the sweet justice Colin righteously deserved—
“Harden! We gotta go!” Bruno shouted when the room rocked from another explosion.
Harden slammed the blade into the center of Colin’s chest. Skin, muscle, and bone gave way for the blade to slip cleanly into his rancid heart.
Colin’s eyes widened. Was he really surprised at this ending?
“I’ll save a spot in hell for you.” Colin gurgled the words through the blood in his mouth.
“You do that.” Nothing would give him more pleasure than an eternity spent killing him… Except an eternity with Jentry.
Harden yanked the blade free and was on his feet and rushing for the secret side door to his office. “Go! Go! Go! Go!” He followed Bruno who was behind Pavel and Leonid. Tripler and his men lined up joining the conga line. Harden looked back at his brother one last time. Splayed on his back as the world fell apart, he was alone. The men he’d brought with him to kill Harden had left him to die, proving you couldn’t buy loyalty.
With the building coming down around them, and in unfamiliar territory, Colin’s men’s chances of survival were nil. Good luck and good riddance when they were one floor away from any exit, and someone was trying to bring the building down on top of them. They had to get out and it wouldn’t be through the front door.
Another explosion blew out the walls of the game room. Projectiles flew everywhere, pelting everyone. With no way to shield himself from the blast, Harden piled into the office behind Pavel, who rushed to the computer to enter the access code into the hidden doorway. He tapped the numbers into the keyboard. The door to the black room slid open with a soft hiss and ground to a halt halfway.
Someone screamed. Harden jerked around. One of Tripler’s men struggled to climb out from under the ceiling that collapsed on top of him. Bruno and Tripler helped him to his feet as blood streamed over his face from the crown of his head. Man, head wounds were messy.
Leonid worked himself partially between the ope
ning while Pavel gripped the sliding door. Together they pried the door open for everyone to rush inside.
“What kind of fucked-up room is this?” Tripler said, his gaze skimming over the metal chair with its bondage attachments in the center of the room and the plastic layer under it.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t need answers to.” Bruno snarled, favoring his hand clutched to his side.
Harden crossed the room to the laundry chute. A firm tug and the lid flipped open. “It’s the fucked-up room that’s gonna save your life. Who’s first?”
The room rocked and an explosion of plaster and insulation rained from the ceiling and blew into the room, along with billowing black smoke. The room was sold to him as the safest place to be in case of trouble. Bet the architect hadn’t envisioned this scenario, motherfucking bombs and a door that couldn’t reseal.
Harden expected a bullet, not being blown to kingdom come. Or turned into a sardine stuck in a tin can. This was the second hitman’s first attempt, and it was original. What would he come up with next when he discovered his failure?
And there went the lights except for the crackle of flames and orange glow snapping his attention to the partially opened doorway.
Headfirst and on his belly, Pavel took the lead, followed by Leonid, Tripler’s injured man, then the rest of his group until only three were left.
“Get in.” Harden ordered Bruno.
Bruno grabbed Tripler, who didn’t put up much of a fight. He took a header down the chute. Then it was just the two of them.
“Get going!” Harden ordered. Something slammed into his shoulder, knocking him into a wall.
Bruno shook his head and pointed to Harden’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding. You first.”
They didn’t have time for this self-sacrificing bullshit. “Get your ass in the chute. Now!” Harden wheezed from the dust filling the air. Both bent over coughing, finding it hard to catch their breath. Harden gripped Bruno by the shoulders. “No time to argue. You’re injured.”
Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4) Page 41
