Page 73 of Forever Filthy

“Take it, they’ll all try to run as soon as I walk out the door. I’ll leave some guys here to watch the exits to make sure none of them escape.” I gingerly reach out and take the gun from him but Alex doesn’t stop there. He moves behind me and grabs me under my arms then drags me across the room and leans me against the wall so I have all the members of the Haven Saints in my sights. “Any of them move, shoot for the chest. It’s the biggest target.”

I meet his gaze and nod. “Thank you, Alex.”

He exhales tiredly. “I upheld my end now, now make sure you call off the dogs.”

“You have my word.”

He searches my gaze for another second. “Stay alive, Vivian Tempest,” he whispers.

“Same to you, Alexander Denver.” It surprises me how much I mean that.

“I’m always a phone call away,” he says, then turns and runs out of the room. The second that door clicks shut behind him, the tension and the atmosphere switches.

“Get her!” Thomas roars. I suck in a ragged breath and lift the gun in front of me waiting for one of them to make a move. “Get the fuck up and kill her or we are all going down.” It should come as no surprise that Drew is the first to stand, the sirens are deafening now which means they have to be here. When three others follow Drew’s lead, I dart my gun between the four of them. Drew sneers as he takes a step forward, I close my eyes and squeeze the trigger without a second thought. Theshot rings out just as we begin to hear shouts. I open my eyes and gasp, Drew stands there with wide eyes, he looks shocked as he reaches up and places a hand over his stomach where blood is soaking through his shirt. He looks down at his wound, then back to me with surprise as he drops to his knees just as the door is kicked open. Men in black clothing with rifles, helmets and masks that cover half their faces barge into the room. One of the men spots me and turn their rifle to me.

“Drop the fucking gun now!” he yells. Another three guys point their guns at me. I raise my free hand and slowly lower the gun to my side and raise both hands. “Push it away, now!” I do as he says and the instant the gun is away from me, he rushes forward and drags me forward. I scream out in pain when he forces me onto my stomach and yanks my arms behind my back, tears of agony rolling down my cheeks just as bile rushes up my throat from the pain of my leg making itself known again.

The pain becomes too much and when I see black dots dancing in the corner of my eyes, I welcome them and allow the darkness to consume me.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Vivian

I groan as I slowly wake and pain immediately travels throughout my body. A small whimper escapes my lips as I slowly blink my eyes open. My head feels hazy and my mouth feels like it's filled with cotton balls. I look around the room and frown, the walls are all sterile white and I hear the beeping of a machine. I lull my head to the side and my eyes snap wide at the sight of the machines beside me. I try to move my hands so I can push myself up but freeze when I can’t move them. I use my upper body strength to half sit up. I look side to side and begin to panic when I see both my wrists are handcuffed to the railings of the hospital bed I’m on.

I look around the room, it's bare except for the machines and two plastic chairs. I may not have been inside a lot of hospitalsbut I know something about this is off, this is not a standard sized room. I look down at my legs and my eyes widen further when I see my leg is elevated and resting on some pillows, my other one is covered by a blanket. I brace myself for the pain and attempt to wiggle my toes on my broken leg, the second I do I cry out in agony as pain shoots through me.

Hysteria works its way up my throat. I try to take some calming breaths and reason with myself that this isn’t as bad as it seems. Surely if Thomas and the others made it out of there and had me as a prisoner they wouldn’t have wasted time performing surgery on my leg. Just as I begin to calm myself I hear voices and instantly my gaze flicks toward the closed door. I watch the handle with rapt attention. I inhale through my nose and exhale steadily as I wait with bated breath. When the handle turns, I hold myself still as the door opens. I don’t know what I expected to see but it wasn’t this. My eyes widen and the breath rushes out of me deflating my lungs in the span of a second.

The woman smiles at me as she enters the room, followed by two men in suits who both look like carbon copies of each other—short-cropped, army type haircut and dark eyes that look like they have been to hell and back—but it’s the woman who commands the room. She oozes power and authority, the lady suit she wears only seems to enhance her image.

“Hello, Vivian, how are you feeling?’ she asks in a monotone, it takes a moment for her words to sink in.

“Water,” I croak out. She turns to one of the men who crosses the room again and ducks his head outside. A moment later he closes the door and walks toward me with a capped bottle of water and straw. He unscrews the lid and pops the straw in, then brings it to my lips. I guzzle the cool liquid greedily and don’t stop until I start coughing. He removes the bottle as I flop back against the pillows.

“Now, we have a few questions for you?—”

I cut her off before she can continue. “You’re David’s assistant,” I rasp out. Cornelia smiles but it's not genuine.

“That was my cover,” she says.

“Cover?” I hedge.

She sighs as if this conversation bores her. Fuck her, she can answer my questions before I answer any of hers. “Yes. My cover was Cornelia Gomez, David’s assistant. My real name is Deputy Director Fiona Williams. I was Tracer Adams’—who you know as David—handler.”

Tracer Adams.

Knowing that David wasn’t his real name stings more than him being an undercover agent. Him being a fed isn’t what hurts most, it's the fact he lied to me and didn’t trust me enough with the truth.

I harden my features and glare at the bitch. “You’re full of shit, you weren’t his handler. I know the Director of the FBI and he is one of the Saints. Why don’t you stop wasting both our time and just tell me what the fuck Thomas wants.”

Her brows raise and a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Who said I was FBI?”

“What Deputy Director Williams is trying to say is that only Special Agent Tracer was FBI.” I look at the guy with the mole on his cheek and narrow my eyes. He sighs in annoyance and adds, “We are CIA.”

I reel back in surprise. “But… I made a deal with the feds,” I mutter.

The three of them nod. “Yes, and that deal has been passed onto us as this was our case not theirs,” Fiona says.

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