Shit.
I never expected my uncle would send him of all people. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s the closest thing I have to a buddie ever since I left Springhaven and Hanson behind. I never meant to cut things off like that, but that’s what happens when you murder people. You run.
I was lucky my uncle vouched for me and kept me away from the police. They never could identify me, despite firsthand accounts from the Burrells. Without solid proof it was me, the police couldn’t act, so I was free as a bird.
But it seems my uncle only pardons for things that don’t involve him directly. And now that I have the sole cause of the destruction of his empire in my possession, I don’t think he’s gonna let me off the hook.
Fuck.
“Brandon. Come out. Now. I know you have her,” Matteo says. “I really don’t wanna shoot you.”
“Then don’t,” I yell back.
Dixie’s still on the floor, glaring at me. I hold my finger over my lips. If she talks, they’ll definitely know she’s here. Because who says they know? They might be trying to call my bluff. That’s how we were trained to deal with situations such as this. Always try to outsmart the bad guy.
Except, in this case, I’m the bad guy … and I don’t intend to lose to my own co-workers. Ex-co-workers because I don’t think I’m ever gonna get to work for my uncle again without losing a few fingers or toes, if not my entire fucking head. He’d probably rip my heart from my chest if he knew what Dixie and I just did.
But fuck him. It was worth it.
I needed to punish her for all she’s done, and I’m far from finished with her yet.
So I grab her arm and hoist her from the floor, determined to get us both out of here.
A wave of bullets punctures the walls again, and I duck for cover. Dixie jumps away against the bathroom door, where she hides behind the moment the shooting stops.
I immediately flank the door as the men are already trying to pry it open. Not on my watch.
The moment one of them pushes it open, I dropkick him to the floor and grab his arm to fling him my way, away from the door and the open fire. With one firm snap, his arm breaks, and he cries out in pain as the gun drops to the floor. Too bad for him, he’s not Matteo.
I shoot him in the legs, so he’ll stay put. Then I grab his gun.
One down, fuck knows how many more to go. Including Matteo.
Dixie rushes out with a bunch of clothes in her hands, and I impatiently grab her arm and tug her along. “C’mon.”
“All right, all right,” she mutters as I drag her through the door.
I wish there was a better way out, but there are no windows on any other side of the room, so we’ll just have to face them head on.
I go out ahead of her, shielding her with my body from the men in front of me. I know they’d shoot to kill on sight, but I won’t let them.
“See? All you had to do was bring her out,” Matteo calls out from behind his vehicle. With his gun pointed at us, he leans over the hood. “Hand her over and no one will get hurt.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” I joke even though this whole situation is anything but funny.
“You’re one of us, Brandon. We won’t hurt you,” he adds.
“Of course, you won’t.” I reload my gun. They won’t shoot as long as she still has a chance of escaping and as long as my uncle doesn’t give the go for them to shoot me too. Until then, I’m safe. Whatever that means.
But fuck safety if it involves giving my uncle what he wants.
He pulled out of a deal involving the Burrells, stealing from them in the process, and he thinks they’ll let him off the hook? Fuck no, I could’ve told him that myself. And why was he even doing business with them in the first place, knowing what they did?
He deserves for his hotel to crumble in ruins. I hope it teaches him a lesson.
“I hope y’all called an ambulance ahead of time,” I say, pulling back the slide on my gun. “Because none of you will be able to walk when I’m done.”
One of them hiding behind a tree laughs loudly. “It’s Seven against one, kid. You’re not gonna make it.”
Seven. Glad I know how many there are now.
I smirk. “Thanks for telling me.”
One of the others gives the one who told me a death glare. “Thanks, dude. Just fucking shoot him and get it over with.”
“No. Not until Josiah gives the okay. Until then, stay put,” Matteo says, stopping them from making a grave mistake. They should be happy he did, or they’d be dead by now. I don’t play around. If you come after me, I will make you pay with blood. Simple.
Matteo knows. Out of all the men working for my uncle, he’s been beside me the longest. We were practically training buddies, and he knows what I’m capable of. Top of the class. Excelling at every part of the course. The shooting range was my playground.
And from the concerned look on his face, I can tell … he knows not to mess with me. Even now. When I make up my mind about something, it’s virtually impossible to change that, no matter who the fuck you are. And that includes my fucking uncle and his men.
“Brandon, please. Can’t we talk this shit over?” Matteo says, trying to appeal to my good side.
But there’s one thing he doesn’t know about me … I don’t have one.
My heart and soul have long been blackened by the suffering I went through at the Burrells’ hands, and now my uncle wants to take away my last chance at revenge.
I won’t let it happen. She’s mine.
“Leave, Matteo.” I point my gun straight at them. “I won’t say it again.”
Even from a distance, I can see him hesitate. He swallows. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Then you’ll have to live with this.”
Before he can respond, I’ve already moved sideways and shot one of them who was hiding behind a bush. He drops dead onto the cold pavement.
One of them shoots and misses. I gun him down next.
“STOP!” Matteo yells.
He can’t control them. He never could. He wasn’t the ringleader, the boss.
I was.