Page 545 of Rage

Confirming my suspicions, Nat steps out of the shadows, the excitement on her face telling me she’s hoping for some reaction from me.

“Hi there, Liam. Long time, no see,” she whispers in that annoying way she always does, so that people have to lean in to hear her, making her words feel important because you have to work to understand them. “I’m so glad you could make it. This is going to be such a fun night. All three of you, taken out at once? That power vacuum is exactly what my brother needs to climb to the top, and with me there by Eddie’s side, that family will have no choice but to give my poor, mourning husband the position he always should have had.”

Two heirs taken out at once would be a scramble, but I can’t figure out what else she’s yammering on about. Nat always loves to speak and make powerful people listen. “Hello, Natalia. It took you long enough to get here,” I reply instead of addressing her villain monologue.

Her brow crumples, frustrated that her revelation didn’t amount to much. “How’d you guess I’d be here?”

“He’s your brother, Nat. I might be morose and a borderline alcoholic, but I’m not an idiot.”

Morozov’s kid chuckles, then dodges out of reach of his father. The guard behind me also stifles a laugh, and while that wasn’t the goal, striking my best friend’s viper of a fiancée with a few choice words feels like a win here at the end.

“Well, I’d ask if you have any last words, but I think those were honest enough for an epitaph,” Morozov says, taking a few steps away from his son for a clean shot, Nat covering her ears with an eerie grin on her face.

Then shit gets weird.

A windy whistle sounds right as the grip of the henchman on my body slackens. I assume that I’m hearing the whoosh of the bullet before I die, instead of the bang. It makes as much sense as anything else. Only both the kid and Nat’s eyes get big, and instead of falling into my grave, the weight of the guard falls on top of me, with my bad leg getting the brunt of it, and we both go down in a mess of limbs and blood. Blood that isn’t mine.

Stranger than even that, though, is the vision of one Cece Rodriguez, covered in mud and a strapless minidress, swinging down from the bucket of the backhoe like Tarzan, and kicking Morozov in the chest.

That last bit was mostly a glancing blow, but the woman lands in a roll, grabs the kid, and hauls him up as a body shield.

That’s all I see before the handle of a knife, which just happens to be attached to the eye of the guard who used to have a hold of me, bashes me in the cheekbone.

It might be a mess, but a knife is a gift that won’t go unused.

Chapter Ten

Cece

Ten Minutes Earlier

Xander lifts his fingers to his nose, sniffing for the metallic scent of fresh blood to verify that we’re stalled out at the correct gravestone. I’m not offended. In fact, I’d be worried if he trusted me blindly. For all his playfulness, you don’t get named heir without the skills to back it up. Caution is probably the most important of those skills.

It was one reason Abuelo didn’t choose Eddie after Oz left. My brother sees the best in others, even when he shouldn’t. While it brought Xander and Liam into our lives, it also brought Nat. Statistically, he’s still batting above average, but average odds are a dangerous place for a crime lord to sit.

“Morozov probably found him,” I say, recalling the whistle I heard not too long ago.

“Yeah,” Xander says. “How do we get him back?”

“We’ve got a knife and a gun. Anything extra I should know about?”

“Nope.”

“How are your knife throwing skills?”

“I’m more of a hand-to-hand expert.” I might imagine the hint of a double meaning as he answers me, but as he’s Xander Liu, I can’t tell one way or another.

“Then give it here.”

He raises his brows but slaps the handle into my palm. “You sure about that, sweet thing?”

I play with it, getting a feel for the weight of it. “This isn’t a throwing knife, so no. But it’ll have to do. What about your arm?”

“It hurts like a bitch.”

“Will it affect your aim? You’re a southpaw, right?”

He glares at me, but I wait him out.

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