Page 126 of Three of a Kind

“Two down,” I growl, coming around the corner into the kitchen.

A third man comes out of what I assume is a bathroom. I’m not sure, but it’s down the long hallway that leads to the garage.

I take my shot as he tries to duck, but it lands in his throat instead of his skull.

It’s gruesome watching as his legs twitch, but not as bad as catching sight of his jawbone.

A muffled scream comes from behind me.

I spin, aiming at the noise, but hesitate.

Goddamn it.

I do not enjoy killing women.

In general, they have to be actively trying to kill me for me not to hesitate.

But a terrified one, cowering under the breakfast nook?

That just seems like something I’m not sure I could come back from.

She raises her hands, and the lines of black mascara streaming down her face make it even more difficult to view her as a threat.

“I found the bride,” I growl, praying the other chaos doesn’t block my team from hearing me.

“Please,” she sobs. “No matter who you’re here to kill…” Her head shakes. “I don’t care. I’m not going to say a word. Please, just give me a head start.”

“Was a decision ever made on what to do with Bianca?” I ask over comms, weighing my options.

I’m a little afraid my judgment is compromised because if she was in on the plot to lure Brooklyn and Libby to the dress shop, then all bets are off.

“Bless insinuated she was a pawn,” Ranger says. A lot of grunting and commotion come next, but I have no idea what’s happening on his end of the line. “If she’s a hindrance to you getting your ass in here to assist, then?—”

“Did anyone find Bless to get her a comm?” Locke asks. “Because that might be helpful. Anyone on Cordial Cousin’s team, you’re needed wherever Maverick is to take over a possible combatant.”

Two feminine voices chorus that they’re on their way. Whoever came up with her team name must have been feeling trite.

“I haven’t made it past the kitchen,” I reply, focusing back on the bride. “Why did you set up Brooklyn?”

“What?” Her face twists in confusion. “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A scratching sound, like an opening and closing door, comes from behind me, and I turn toward the garage.

I’m expecting to see a mask and smaller frame that would indicate it’s one of Bless’s team.

My gun hand wavers as a man approaches in a suit with a fucking DEA badge held up.

“Tell me you’re with Bless,” he says as I notice the handgun in his other hand.

“You better talk fast,” I snarl, leveling my weapon at his forehead.

“Malik Thorne.” He slides the badge into the interior pocket of his coat. “I’ve been undercover for two years. Fifteen minutes before the ceremony, Bless told me this was coming.”

“Is anyone getting this?” I growl.

“I’m on it,” Merrick assures me, typing away in the background. “Ask him why he’s there if they terminated his assignment three weeks ago.”

I growl the question, and Thorne frowns.

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