Page 129 of Kneeling to Candy

A man curses, his holler for help cut off with a muted cry before an audible snap.

“Logging road secured. Over,” Flay rumbles low through the comms.

Feet are heard running along with even breathing. The distinctive sound of fists connecting with flesh is picked up through the comms. A few soft pops followed by silence.

“Front exit secured. Over,” Brass says, panting down the line.

“Cover us. With me, Gauge,” Atlas commands.

“Roger, brother.”

“Moving in toward the back entrance,” Chase informs as he and Punk are heard running in the background.

“Watching your six from the helipad,” Stage informs Chase and Punk.

No sooner have the words left Stage’s mouth when gunfire erupts from the level below us, echoing around the dome-shaped arena. Our team is already moving in to apprehend all they come into contact with. Those who resist or draw weapons on our team will be terminated.

Piero sips a whiskey, unbothered by the chaos breaking out on the main level as his men surround him like a human shield.

Chaos breaks out on the auction floor as panic ensues among the bidders. Duffy runs off the stage, screaming like a terrified little kid. Shouting is heard all around from the various private booths. Footsteps thunder through the corridor outside our suite.

When gunfire sounds on the auction floor itself, I throw myself on top of Candy.

“Get down!” I holler at her over the growing commotion, shoving her to the ground until she’s lying prone on the carpet. My body shields her like a tortoise shell. “Don’t move until I say it’s safe.”

She nods woodenly.

“Men are trying to reach the holding pen,” Tank shouts.

“Take them out!” Gauge hollers over the comms.

With a last kiss to the back of Candy’s head, I rise, aiming my gun at the privacy window. One bullet to the glass has it shattered.

Piero scoffs around his drink. “You’d think they’d invest in bullet-proof windows, preparing for every worst-case scenario. Amateurs.”

Tank and Ziggy rush forward to the broken window, guns drawn. Together, we take out anyone trying to get to the women in the holding area. Guards rush to cover those who try to reach the captives, firing back at us. We quickly duck down behind the low wall as bullets rain into the room. One of Piero’s guards—Enzo—takes a bullet to the right of his chest. He staggers but remains upright. The bullet is stopped by his bullet-proof vest but will surely leave a painful welt. It will take more than a bullet to bring down the mountain-sized bodyguard.

Enzo grits his teeth, biting back his pain. “Fucker better be dead by the end of this, or he’ll wish he was when I get my hands on him.”

Piero hums, amused. “As long as I get to watch you work.”

With all the havoc, I hadn’t noticed Candy creeping along the carpet, moving closer to where we squat beneath the broken window until she’s practically on top of me.

What is she doing?!

“Get back, Candy,” I warn, worry surging up my spine.

“You need eyes,” she shouts at me over the rapid gunfire from her prone position on the floor. “There’s too many people for you to keep track of them all. You take out the threats, and I’ll make note of the faces.”

“No!” I shout, trying to shove her head down when she pops it up over the windowsill.

She slaps away my hand, her brows knitting together angrily. “I can help.”

Of course she can help. I have no doubt. But I will not risk her getting shot.

“Butch! Three o’clock below.”

A bullet whizzes past my right ear.

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