But one idiot doesn’t seem to get the message, and he manages to insert himself between me and Priest, leaning on the bar with a grin.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” he says. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and the way he’s looking at me makes my skin crawl. Aside from the fact that he smells like he’s been drinking his way through the night, he’s nothing special. Black hair, blue eyes, and a rumpled t-shirt with a faded slogan on the front. He’s someone I wouldn’t give the time of day if I met him on my own, and he doesn’t seem like a threat aside from the fact that he can’t tell when someone doesn’t want to talk to him.
“Let’s pretend you didn’t see me now,” I tell him, putting as much disgust in my words as I can, hoping he’ll get the message and fuck off.
Of course, he doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s the booze giving him confidence and stupidity in equal measure, or if he’s just naturally a fucking dumbass.
Either way, he reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. “Don’t be like that,” he says. “We could get to know each other better. You know they have these rooms in the back of the club—”
His hand travels while he talks, going from my arm and heading toward my chest. He doesn’t get there, and his proposition is cut off by Knox grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand off me.
He twists the guy’s wrist hard enough that it makes him groan in pain, and gives him a death glare, daring him with his eyes to start some shit.
“Sorry,” the guy says, and when Knox releases him, he slinks away, disappearing into the crowd.
“Fucking asshole,” Knox snarls. “If we weren’t here on a job, I would’ve fucked that guy up way worse.”
“I know,” I tell Knox, patting his shoulder with a smile.
Gage gives him a look that says if we weren’t here on a job, he might have let Knox fuck that guy up the way he wanted to, and that seems to be good enough for him for the moment.
We sip our drinks, waiting and keeping an eye on Cyrus.
The longer we wait, the more the tension and nerves climb in me. We had it all planned out, lined up and plotted down to the last detail. But nothing’s happening.
Fuck.
Did we miscalculate? Did our chess pieces not line up right?
Something should have happened by now, and I feel the anxious restlessness like tingles under my skin as I stand there.
Next to me, Knox is tapping his foot and cracking his knuckles. A sure sign that he’s getting antsy too. We can’t let Cyrus leave the club tonight. For this plan to work, he needs to die, and we all know that.
Knox’s hand twitches, and I can imagine he’s thinking about doing it himself. Would Gage let him? His point about us needing to be clean on this still stands, but we can’t let Cyrus get away.
It’s not an ideal situation, and the longer we sit there with nothing happening, the more the tension ratchets up.
Over by the door of the club, there’s a small commotion, and that catches my attention for a second. People start to part like the Red Sea, getting out of the way of a group of men who come striding into the club on a mission.
I recognize the one at the front as Apollo, and a feeling of relief washes over me. Thank fuck.
They move fast through the throngs of people, making a beeline for the VIP area and Cyrus.
Cyrus’s guard is way the hell down. He’s got his head tipped back against the booth, and his dick in a woman’s mouth. He doesn’t see it coming, and even his bodyguards are too slow.
They got too complacent, and it’s all Apollo needs.
He walks right up to the roped off area, pulls out his gun, and shoots Cyrus right in the head.
14
Gage
Chaos erupts at the end of that gunshot.
The woman who was sucking Cyrus off screams, a high, terrified sound, and she jerks back and scrambles away from the now dead man. There are flecks of his blood in her blonde hair, and dotting her bare shoulders, and she looks horrified.
Cyrus’s guards finally snap to action, yelling and pulling their own weapons to fire on Apollo and his crew. Apollo’s men fire back.
It only takes a few gunshots before people start to realize something is going down. They start running from the bar and the dance floor, crowding and stampeding as they flee toward the exits.
People are running and screaming, trying to get out, and it’s a mess. A mess we need to slip out in.
I don’t wait to see if Apollo lives or dies in the fight, or even what else goes down here. The part we needed to happen—Cyrus getting killed—is done. Nothing else really matters.
“That’s our cue,” I tell the guys, raising my voice just enough to be heard over the screaming and the music. I grab River’s arm and drag her away from the bar, shoving my way through the crowd so we can get to the doors.
Knox and Priest take up on either side, and Ash guards our back. The five of us move like a unit, shuffling people out of our way so we can get through the crush of people faster.
Now that we know Cyrus is dead, I just want to get River out of here in one piece.
It takes a bit, but we make it through the chaos and out of the club. It’s immediately quieter, and I can hear myself think again. But there’s no time to stand around enjoying the night air.
We hustle down to the parking garage and get into the car, driving off.
I’m back in the driver’s seat, and everyone’s quiet as I take us away from the club. I can feel some of the tension finally bleeding out of my shoulders, and that’s echoed by the tension leaving the car as I drive. We’re all less tightly wound than we were before, now that we know the plan worked.
I let out a slow, controlled breath, and glance into the rearview mirror to get a glimpse of River.
She’s in her usual spot, between Ash and Knox in the back, and I can’t quite read her face. All I can hope is that this put her in a better place than she was before and not a worse one. There was a lot of shooting and death, and I can imagine that made her think of her sister being shot. But I hope this helps her see that we can actually achieve our goal and tear Julian down. We’re one step closer now, and we can all feel that.
The drive back to the house feels shorter than the drive to the club, and we’re all relieved to walk back inside in one piece when we get there. No mishaps, no tragedies tonight.
Dog greets us by barking and leaping around our feet like he can tell that we were victorious tonight.
“Aww, you’re happy people died tonight, aren’t you?” Ash says, scratching the dog under the chin and rubbing his ears. “You’re a little murder happy beast, huh? Aren’t you, Manson?”
“After the serial killer? Really?” River says, shaking her head. She pats the dog on the head, and I roll my eyes.
The animal really needs a real name and a fucking collar, since it’s obvious he’s not going anywhere now. He’s been here as long as River has, and since we don’t plan to be done with her any time soon, I guess the same goes for the dog.
But the thought is fleeting as I focus on River again.