He sighs but his leg goes out, tripping the man before he goes back to eating his ice cream, his legs swinging back and forth happily like a fucking child.
The man against the counter isn’t moving now, so I turn to the man on the floor who groans. Grabbing his head, I drag him to his feet and lean down to get in his face. “Warn them, tell them we are coming, let them know this city will run red with the blood of anyone who ever helped them, worked for them, or knows them. They will all die, because of them.” I let go and move away.
The young man turns to look at me before taking a step back like he doesn’t believe me. “Go!” I shout.
He turns and dashes away. Yanking the knife from my side, I throw it at him, hitting his shoulder. He screams as he falls. “Better go faster before I change my mind!” I call, and he gets to his feet, gripping his bleeding shoulder, and disappears, blood trailing after him.
D groans. “Let me hunt him, look at that pretty trail.”
“No, you can get the next one,” I snarl, as I turn back to the other man who is immobile. Grinning, I turn back to D. “We’re done here, that felt good.”
He nods, licking another ice cream before he offers me one. Snorting, I take it and rip it open, swallowing it whole while he watches. “And they say I’m nuts,” he mutters, before flinging his arm around me. “Where to, big guy? The clothes shop or the market?”
“Market,” I snap.
“Market it is.” He laughs and then chucks the wrapper away. A woman with grey hair walks past, and he grabs her. He turns her, his hand on her throat, and I watch her scream and kick. His face is dark, needy. “Little—” He realises it isn’t Roxy and tosses her away. She falls to her knees with a whimper, takes one look at us, and gets the fuck out of here. I clap him on the shoulder as he glares after her. “Soon, brother, soon, just hold on.”
“Let’s go kill some fuckers,” he growls.
Chapter Forty-Seven
KENZO
I can feel Ryder’s eyes on me, sense his concern for me, but I can’t speak to reassure him. because I’m not okay. I’m furious at Roxy, at the Triad, and at myself. I should never have left her. This should never have happened. We promised to protect her, and now she’s in the hands of our enemies and they are doing God knows what to her.
She’s a survivor, a fighter, but she shouldn’t have to be.
Spinning, I slam my fist into the wall, watching with sick satisfaction as it cracks open the plaster. Pulling it free, I shake off the pain and turn to Ryder, who has stopped talking to gape over at me. When he meets my eyes, he sighs and turns back. “I want everyone on this. Go.”
Tony rushes off, and Ryder glances back at me. “We are getting her back, hold on, little brother.”
“But what if she can’t,” I growl, pacing now, my hand bleeding and dripping onto the floor as I go, ruining it. I don’t care.
“She will,” he insists.
“How do you know?” I yell.
He steps into my path, blocking me with his own anger. “Kenzo, Roxxane is stronger than any of us. She’s been through hell already, she can survive this. If anyone can, she can, and right now, we need to trust in that. To trust in her. Just like she will be trusting us to come and get her. I can’t do that with you losing your shit!” he shouts, and then pants as he stares at me. “I need you, I—” He looks away then. “I’m struggling too. I need your help, Kenzo, to get her back. Nothing can go wrong. We can rain down fucking hell on them once we have her, but until then, we have to keep it together. For her.”
I stare at my brother, lost for words. In his eyes, I see the truth, the fear there, the anger…the need. He needs us now, more than ever, and so does she. He’s right, I can’t lose it now, not when we’re so close. I just wish I was with Garrett and D, letting off some steam.
He sucks in a breath, and I know he’s counting because, when it’s over, he seems calmer. I wish I could do that. “Calls are already coming in from people who worked for them years ago begging for peace, giving us anything we want if we don’t kill them. The city knows, and they are turning their backs on them.”
“That’s good.” I nod. “Which safe house though?”
“Garrett checked a lot the other day, they couldn’t have captured it since then, so it has to be one of the ones he didn’t check,” he murmurs, thinking out loud. It’s his turn to pace. He’s lost the jacket and tie and stripped off his shirt. He looks so much like our father it’s scary, apart from the tattoos. Father would never have sullied his body with ink, said it was the mark of the poor. “It has to be, but which one? They would need space, they would need no neighbours.” I let him think, knowing he’s onto something, knowing he will get there.
He always does. He’s the fucking brains. If anyone can solve it, it’s him. I’m trusting him, Roxy is trusting him. All that burden is on his shoulders, but as always, Ryder thrives in it. “Space…space, lots of space. Fuck, of course!” He turns to me, his eyes lit up. “The old hotel. We never go there, and it’s in a rundown neighbourhood with hardly any neighbours. The police never get to that side of town because of the gangs. It’s the perfect fucking spot.”
“Shit,” I whisper. “You’re right, it would be the last place we looked.” Mainly because it was once our father’s, and although we couldn’t bring ourselves to tear it down, it’s well known we all hate it. Ryder wanted to see it rot and destroy itself, and now they’ve taken our girl there.
To the place where this all started.
The place our father died…at our hands.
He stills, no doubt reliving that night. I can feel the memories reaching for me as well, trying to get their claws in my skin. Flashes of blood, Ryder’s pale and panicked face as he tells me to run…
I shake it off, not wanting to go back down that alley. I refuse to live in the past, and what we did, we did to survive. The old man fucking deserved it, and Ryder might live with the burden of being the one who pulled the trigger, but I was the one screaming for him to do it.
And now we’re heading back there.
“Call them back. We hit it at dark. No survivors,” Ryder snarls, before he turns away. I lay my hand on his shoulder.
“There is no room for ghosts tonight, brother. What happened then is in the past and best forgotten. She needs you to be at your very best tonight. Don’t let him win again,” I console, before I pull out my phone and dial Garrett and Diesel.
I know Ryder struggles every day with the sins of his past, with the shit he did to keep me safe. I wish I could take that from him, but I can’t, and that night…that night, he committed the ultimate crime to save his family. To save us.
It’s one of the many reasons I will never leave him, never betray him, never turn away, even when he’s cold. Because underneath that ice is the boy who took the gun from my shaking hands when I was scared, who followed me into our father’s hotel when I planned to kill him…
And pulled the trigger when I couldn’t.
“Anything?” Garrett snarls, as I hear what sounds like a chainsaw in the background.
“Come home, we know where she is,” I tell him, before hanging up.
The Vipers are coiling, ready to strike. Nothing of the Triad will remain after this.
Hold on, darling, we are coming.
Chapter Forty-Eight
ROXY
Motherfucking shit balls.
My head aches, my body hurts, and there is a weird ringing in my ears. My mouth feels fuzzy, and my eyes refuse to open. Where the hell am I? What happened? I rack my brain, searching past the fog clinging to it and ignoring the splintering pain. It’s important, I know it…
Fuck.
The crash.
Shit, they got me…so where am I? My head feels like blood is pooling in it, like when you lie upside down for too long. My ears still ring, but I can hear past that and my slamming heart to the dripping surrounding me—like water slowly hitting tile, again and again. Other than that, all I can hear is the rustle of wind seemingly far away…then silence.
Okay. Calm the fuck down, Rox. First things first, open your fucking eyes and find out where you are. Then we escape and kill these motherfuckers.
I’m going to make those bitches cry for their mommies…just as soon as I can open my eyes.
I don’t let the panic settle in or give it a hold on me, it won’t do anything. This is life or death, and I need to get out of here before they come back. I know it will only mean torture until they are done with me, and then I will end up with a bullet in my head. I refuse to die that way. I’ll die as I lived, with a beer in my hand and riding a dick.
I manage to finally pry my eyes open. They swim with tears, and I have to blink several times to clear them. When I do, I frown in confusion, trying to understand what I’m seeing.