“If anything happens to her—”
“I know, Tristan. Trust me…I know.” Mateus looks away, presses the garage opener, and stares ahead. “Take care of yourself, my friend.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRISTAN
I pull a second handgun out of my bag and peek under the door as it opens. Mateus can nearly clear the opening with the Envemo as I catch movement by the Hummer. Then a man in black whips around the back of it and aims for the windshield. My heart slams against my chest as I get a shot off. He drops limp to the ground.
Mateus peels out, barely missing the body. I watch only long enough to see them speed down the road before I turn back for the house, every sense on high alert. This is nothing like a hit, but nothing I can’t handle. Sometimes it’s complicated. Of course, that was before Isabel. Before I signed myself up for a lifetime of ducking extinction—mine and hers.
Jay had messaged me twice this morning asking about Isabel. I should have known it was a warning shot. Maybe Mateus’s gut was right, or maybe he just offered me to Jay’s backup plan on a silver platter. I hoped it wasn’t the latter, since he was Isabel’s only chance to get out of this bullshit alive.
“Red!”
The hairs stand up on the back of my neck because I know the voice booming through the house.
“Come on, Red. Where’s the girl? I know she’s pretty, but you gotta give her up now.”
I move up the stairs without a sound, sliding my back along the wall as I go. All the while, I’m cursing Jay. Of all the people to send…
I make it to the hallway and move toward the sound of his loud footfalls. He’s still a big fucker.
“Boss isn’t happy,” he calls out. “But we can figure this out, man. We just need the girl so we can get this done.”
I round the corner and find him in the foyer, pacing casually. I aim for the back of his crew cut when he turns. His face splits with a crooked smile.
“There you are,” he says, making no effort to draw his weapon.
“Crow. Long time, no see.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I’m hard to miss too.”
He lowers his big frame onto the edge of one of the accent chairs. I’m surprised it doesn’t tip under his weight. Crow fits his name. Black hair and black eyes and, if I had to guess, a black heart to match. Big and loud and there’s no vermin too indecent to fatten his wallet. Not that I’m one to judge, except he has a penchant for pissing in my backyard from time to time.
“Jay’s wondering what you’ve been up to. Your trigger finger broken?”
“Not remotely,” I mutter, my aim more than steady.
I’m ready to push Crow for more information when I spot movement in my periphery. I knew he wouldn’t be alone. The third party is stone-faced and leaner than both of us, edging his way into view from his hiding spot in the entryway. His eyes are round and glassy, like an owl who sees everything. I’m not sure he’s blinked since I noticed him.
“Drop it.” His voice wavers.
“Have you met Hogan? No?”
Crow lets out a shitty, condescending laugh. Despite it, I decide to play nice and let the gun fall with a thud on Mateus’s expensive Persian rug. Thankfully I don’t need it to fuck Crow up and take out his helper. Crow’s overconfidence has gotten him into trouble before, and I’m more than ready to take advantage of it. Just as soon as I find out a few things.
“How did you find us?”
Crow draws his gun and points lazily to the chair. “Have a seat.”
“No thanks.”
He grins. “I insist.”
I sit as he grabs his phone and talks into it walkie-talkie style. “Otto, we have him upstairs.” Silence and a few crackles. “Otto.”
Crow’s distracted and he’s about to get bad news, but I’m more worried about Hogan on my right, who’s either sleep-deprived or high as a kite.
“She’s gone,” I say. “So is Otto.”
Crow’s expression melts into a displeased snarl. He straightens and comes closer to stand directly in front of me. “Where. Is. She?”
“Couldn’t say.”
He crosses his arms and stares down at me, no doubt enjoying his perceived position of power. “What happened, man? You had to hit it a few times before you put a bullet in her? That’s some weak shit.”
“Not sure it’s any of your business.”
“Kind of my business now, don’t you think? Where’s she going?”
“Probably driving back to Rio right now. You know who she is. Feds are probably hot on this and working with the police to find her and get her back home.”
His eyebrows jerk upwards. “Feds? You’ve got a red dot on your fucking head, and you’re sending her home to Daddy? What the fuck for? You in love with her or something?” He pauses a beat. “Aren’t the Feds the ones who tried taking you out to begin with?”
I hate that Crow knows anything about me at all. But we all come from somewhere. I was a special ops mission gone wrong. Crow’s mob boss family created a protégé killing machine who made better bank on private assignments than TVs falling off trucks.
“If you found us, so can they.”
“I’ve been tracking you for days, Red. Didn’t get the go-ahead from Jay to move on you until this morning, otherwise you’d have seen me the day after you didn’t pop the girl.” He shakes his head. “This was easy money too. I don’t get it.”
He knows better than to question my ability. He’s right. Killing Isabel would have been an easy hit. Controversial maybe, but hardly a challenge in execution.
He leans closer, bracing himself on the chair’s arms. It’s a precarious position for him if not for the all-seeing eye a few feet away. Crow knows this, so he’s being cocky. He’s daring me to make a move. Under normal circumstances, I would. I’m not afraid of getting shot. I’m not sure I’m afraid of dying either. What scares me now is the prospect of leaving Isabel unprotected. Because once Mateus drops her off, she will be.
I curse inwardly, harnessing some calm. “Why is she so important?”
“We’re not paid to ask questions, Red. Point and shoot. Don’t get killed. You know the drill.”
“Maybe she’s worth more than the price on her head.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Worth more alive? Doubtful.”
I shrug. “Suit yourself.”
He hesitates, but I know he’s got money-hungry running through his veins.
“More than the cost of getting put on Jay’s naughty list?”
I offer him a million-dollar smile, hoping he takes the bait. “Why don’t we have a drink? I’ll tell you what I know.”
He laughs and straightens. “Sure, why not. What’s the rush?” He walks toward the bar and looks toward his comrade. “Want something?”
Hogan lowers his gun and nods. Junkie. He’ll catch any high he can, even if it means taking his eyes off me.
“If he gets out of that chair, shoot him,” Crow barks as he pulls two glasses down from the bar.
I laugh to myself. Crow’s cocky, but he’s not stupid. Most men who turn their backs to me end up dead.
I stare down the barrel of the gun trained on me when another face appears over his shoulder. Karina steps into the house.
No. I feel the blood drain from my face.
I don’t have time to rethink Mateus’s betrayal, because if Karina dies like this because of me, he’ll never forgive me. The junkie swivels, turning his back to me. In a fraction of a second, I lift from the chair and map my steps toward her, already knowing I won’t reach her in time.
Then her face changes into something wild, and I see the gun. She lifts it and fires, sending an explosion of blood out the back of the man. His gun swings limp around his finger as he brings his other hand to what’s left of his neck.
I dive for my gun and turn it to Crow, but he’s ducked out of the room.
I fire randomly down the hallway, where he’s likely waiting for his opportunity to fire back, as I make my way to Karina.
She’s still wild-eyed and shaking, clutching the gun tightly in her hands.
“Nice shot,” I say in a hushed tone.