To make sure I didn’t pass out—
“Well, well, what do we have here?” a man said from the darkness. I recognized that voice, damn it. Reggie, a lieutenant in Bitter Hill, was the only other man who knew about my plot to kill Lucas. Therefore, he was the only man who knew why Bitter Hill guys had died, and how. He probably hadn’t shared that information, because working with Steel Row would get him and Phil killed, too. “Chris O’Brien, bleeding and alone.”
Forcing my eyes open, I smirked. “Reggie, great to see you, man.”
“Where are my men, O’Brien?”
“Yeah, about that . . .” I shrugged, ignoring the pain blazing through my shoulder from the small gesture. “Turns out, Lucas isn’t as easy to take down as I thought. It got ugly, and there were losses, but he’s dead.”
Reggie rubbed his jaw and walked closer, his black hair as black as his eyes. He’d been walking behind me, and I stiffened. I didn’t like anyone at my back. Especially not guys like him—guys like me. “Let me guess. Steel Row thinks we’re to blame while you’re free and clear.”
“Shit if I know. Haven’t heard word yet. I’m kinda recovering from the op, in case you can’t tell.” I straightened and pushed off the wall. “But as soon as I hear who they’re looking to pop, I’ll let you know.”
Reggie chuckled. “Yeah. Sure you will. You must think I’m a fucking fool.”
Well, actually . . . “Nah, man.”
“Why should I believe you?”
I shrugged, even though it hurt. “Why not? You lost some men, but you took down Lucas Donahue. I call that a win.”
“Know what I’d call a win?” He flicked a finger, and two guys came out from the darkness. “Kill him, and make it painful.”
He walked away, not bothering to turn around to see if his men followed orders. I reached for my gun—till I remembered that Lucas had taken it from me. “Shit.”
Reggie’s guys grinned, and one pulled out a Glock. “Any last words?”
I’m sorry, Lucas. “Yeah.” I inched closer and forced a grin. The man’s hold on his weapon trembled, and I knew I could take him. A man who hesitated was a man easily overtaken. “Never fuck with someone who’s got nothing to lose.”
I threw myself at him, and we hit the ground with a bang—literally. The gun went off, and the bullet miraculously hit the man who leapt forward to help his buddy. He hit the ground, convulsing and choking on blood. The guy under me cursed and let loose a mean right hook that solidly connected with my nose. I rolled to the side, blinking away the impending blackness, but I knew I would be too late.
I really was going to die in this alley . . .
And I deserved it.