Page 50 of One Kill

There’s movement behind one of the two shooters in the kitchen, who are just watching us like we’re the main attraction at an Ozzy Osbourne concert, and I don’t need to see beyond my peripheral vision to know Crank and Flower have chosen this moment to surprise them.

Pop! Pop!

Two down.

“Checkmate.” Crank’s word brings a smile to my face as he holds a gun in each hand, both pointed at Ronan, while Flower slowly advances on douchebag here who, apparently, has a death wish.

“By the way, you fat fuck, I didn’t come alone.” Taking the stunned opportunity to get rid of this fucker behind me, I kick him in the kneecap just as Crank gets close enough to wrap a beefy arm around Ronan’s throat while his other hand presses the barrel to his temple. As I slide to the side to place myself behind Ronan’s guy, I pick up a gun and slide my favorite knife out of my right boot. Asshole should have patted me down for weapons. Guess he won’t be making that mistake again.

True to my own word, I slice this guy’s throat from one ear to the other and let him drown in his own blood, choking for air and grabbing at his wound like his fingers could possibly hold it in.

“Am I scary now, motherfucker?” I wink at his bulging eyes then turn my rage to Ronan, who’s cool as a fucking cucumber.

“Where’s Murphy? Where’s Hallie? I promise, if you tell me now, I’ll kill you nice and quick.” I’m a bad liar but I do try.

Ronan whistles then smiles like a fucking lunatic.

That feeling in my stomach returns and I know for a fact that I’m not going to enjoy the next words out of his mouth.

“I was hoping not to have to use my plan B.” It’s like he doesn’t have a two-hundred-pound madman almost cutting his air off, that’s how calm and collected he is.

Coughing and spluttering at my feet, where the Irishman is bleeding out, distracts me for half a second and when I look up, I see them.

Murphy is the first to join us in the kitchen, a house of a man towering over his already-six-foot-three frame and pressing the barrel of his Colt at the back of my man’s head. The grip on my gun tightens and I have to talk myself down from risking everything and shooting that big goon right between his beady eyes.

Instead, my guilty gaze falls to Murphy, whose features are tight, eyes alert and staring right back at me with a strength that I didn’t know I needed him to project. From the shaking of my hands to the baring of my teeth, it’s not difficult to see that I’m holding on to my temper and sanity by a thin thread. But Murphy gives a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head to tell me to hold it together.

Immediately, I know why.

Behind him, a second goon shows up and this one has Hallie. With one meaty paw pulling her hair back so far she can barely see where she’s walking, she struggles to follow his instructions.

“Come on, bitch, we ain’t got all day.” At his harsh words, my baby begins sobbing; her cheeks streaked with tears and saliva dripping from her mouth where the gag separates her lips. Again, Murphy tries to be the eye to my hurricane but I’m past that shit.

You do not make my baby girl cry. Fuck that.

“You, motherfucker,” I point the blade of my knife to his acne-scarred face and wait until his attention is solely on me. “Will be the first to die.” Then I point to the dying asshole at my feet, whose eyes are three seconds away from Hell, and spit. “You won’t be as lucky as he is. I’ll make sureyousuffer.”

All the men laugh and laugh but inside, I’m laughing the loudest because I always keep my fucking promises.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Murphy

Fuck,evenwhenshe’scovered in blood and shaking like an earthquake ready to destroy an entire city, she’s the most mesmerizing woman I’ve ever seen. The only problem is that I need her to stay calm. For Hallie, for me. The only way to survive this shit show is for everyone to calm the fuck down and have a serious discussion about what the fuck is going on.

I can’t see Hallie, she’s behind me, but judging from the venom etched across J’s features and the hitched sobs behind me, I’m guessing it’s nothing good. With a guy holding a gun to my head, pushing me to scoot forward, it takes everything in me not to turn around and shove that gun down his throat. The only problem is that I don’t want to mentally scar my daughter for the rest of her life by getting my brain shot out and splattered across the walls. So, for her, I bite the bullet… no pun intended.

Pulling out a stool from the kitchen bar, he pushes me down and when I lift my eyes, I can finally see Hallie. It’s not hard to understand J’s rage because it’s suddenly coursing through my own veins, boiling hot and running fast. Our eyes meet and I try my best to soothe her, tell her with a forced smile that everything is going to be okay.

And it will be. It has to be.

We still have forever to live, all three of us. God wouldn’t be so fucking cruel as to bring Jordyn into our lives just to take her away again. That’s not an option.

Hallie’s sobs slow, her chest heaving just a little less, but her tears still stream down her face like twin waterfalls. She’s so young, so sheltered, that seeing her like this is like a kick to the gut. I’ve never been prone to violence and I’ve always kept my nose out of the mob’s business but when this shit is over, I’m going to demand justice and it won’t be with the fucking police or the courts.

“Let the boss go or one of them is going to die.” At my captor’s words, my eyes dart to J’s, narrowing them so she reads my message loud and clear. If he goes free, we all die anyway.

J takes a menacing step toward us, her glare so glacial it could reverse global warming, and points her knife at the guy who’s drilling a hole at the back of my head with his gun.

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