Page 73 of Shadows of Justice

A voice over the radio on the old man’s hip fills the room, a staticky voice breaking through the tension. “SWAT team mobilized. Departing in five. Over.”

The chief sighs and tips his head back. “Fucking finally.”

He looks me over from across the table for a minute, leaning his hands on the back of the metal chair. I’m not an anxious man, but the deadness in his stare is somewhat unnerving. I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now.

“All your intel on Jennings was confirmed. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see the offshore accounts myself—but you weren’t lying. We’re working on locating him now.”

I nod once, hoping they play that right and don’t fuck around with what is already a very delicate situation while Viv is still in danger.

“My daughter is the strongest person I know,” he says, his voice shaky. “I’ve done a shit job of letting her know that, so shitty that she’s gone and done something no person should do. This is definitely your fucking fault, Barone,” he points a finger at me, “but I’m not innocent here either. I should have listened to her. I should have . . . been there. She deserves better than both of us.”

“That we can agree on,” I say, holding his gaze. The silence stretches for a moment, both of our hearts quietly bleeding for the same person.

“Save her,” I finally say, my voice breaking. “Please. Whatever you have to do, just . . . don’t let her die. I won’t be able to live with myself knowing she’s lost her life because of me.”

He swallows, nostrils flaring, but he clenches his jaw and nods. “Is my daughter in love with you?”

I blink, not entirely expecting that question.

“I . . .” I clear my throat. “Fortune doesn’t find me in this life enough for that. I could never hope . . . not after this.”

“Well, if she was anything like me, she’d tell you to go to hell,” he says, his eyes hardening. “She deserves a good guy with a normal life, not whatever comes with being involved with a criminal.” I grind my teeth, knowing he’s right. “But, she’s nothing like me. She’s like her mother. And her mother always found light, even in the darkest of hearts. Viv is living proof of that.”

He looks at the floor, actual shame veiling his eyes.

“Because of her kind heart, there might actually be hope for you yet, Barone.”

Without another word, he turns from me and heads out of the room, leaving me once again to stew alone in my thoughts.

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

Genevieve

I think I’ve stopped breathing.

I stare at Sugar’s form slumped at an unnatural angle on the floor. The pulse pounding in my ears drowns out all other sounds, all voices. It stalls all of my thoughts.

Jennings slides his gun back into its holster and spares a look my way. It’s the look of a man that has disconnected with his soul. He has disassociated from what good or evil is. He just acts—no longer feeling.

I open my mouth and unleash a roar. It turns into more of a keening wail, the shards of my broken heart piercing what’s still alive of my flesh.

And then the room goes white.

The blast rocks my suspended body backward. I would have joined Magnum in flying back and colliding with the wall, if I could go anywhere. My skin ripples, my hair whips, dirt blows into my eyes and my ears pop, my hearing replaced with a tinny ringing.

Blood dribbles down my nose and coats my clattering teeth. Every bone in my body feels crushed, the vibrations seeming to bounce off of my trembling frame again and again. I suck in a breath, and see the flashing of gunfire across the room.

So, my fallen angel did come through.

With my senses deadened I peer around, a smoke grenade rolling toward me and emitting a cloud of concealment to my immediate surroundings. I spy Jennings using the overturned table as cover and firing at his own fucking men. Glass is embedded in his skin from the blast, and blood drips from his nose and ears. He bares his teeth, firing away alongside Trismo and T-Bone, Tres in a puddle of his own piss and huddled at their feet. Magnum uses my body as a shield—asshole—and fires off shots as he crouches near my dangling legs. I spot the SWAT team filtering through a massive hole blown in the wall, sunlight pouring in around their bodies and catching the drifting smoke and dust in its rays.

Even with my hearing muffled, the chaos is still overwhelming. Bullets fly and ricochet, the Dogs caught unaware and dropping like flies. I feel a jerk and look up, spotting the hook my chains are hanging on tearing out of the beam in the ceiling.

It’s excruciating, but I use every last bit of my strength to pull and bounce, ripping the huge hook screw further and further out of the beam. I hardly have any control over my limbs, the skin pallid and the color of death, but I don’t let it stop me. I’m dead if I stay like this—any minute now and a bullet is going to be lodged in my skin.

The hook finally gives way, and my nearly lifeless body drops to the floor in a heap. The huge chains follow, crushing my shattered hip and making me cry out in a soundless scream. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think. I’m stunned for a moment as my thoughts work to catch up to my change of position.

Before I can even enjoy the relief of being released, movement from the side catches my eye. I choke on my fear as a bloodied Magnum crawls toward me, nothing but wickedness in his evil grin.

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