Page 41 of Entombed In Sin

In the back of my head, I wonder if this has to do with the person tracking us. The idea is fleeting. There’s no way these two things can be connected. Gangs don’t work like this. They don’t use trackers.

My attention turns to the guys on either side of the man pointing a gun at my face. Their expressions are grim, but their attention is elsewhere. One even looks over his shoulder, searching for some sign of trouble or whatever signal they’re waiting for. Interesting… this can’t be a normal hit. Otherwise, they’d have killed us or tried to beat our asses by now. Why wait? Their lack of action tickles my insides. Ifwemade our victims wait, it was because we were too busy inflicting terror or pain. These guys are waiting like dogs on a leash. They can’t act without their owner’s permission.

Fucking weak-ass bitches.

A smile toys at my lips as time ticks by, confirming my suspicion. I check the gun pointed at my face. The safety is on, a rookie move. If he was going to kill me, he should’ve taken it off. Because by the time I move?—

I’m on my feet, snatching the gun from the guy’s hand. As I flip it around on my assailant, I remove the safety and shoot him in the head. His eyes widen before they roll up and he collapses to the ground. The move surprises everyone. Before anyone can react, I turn the gun to the next closest member. Shock freezes him in place. Sucks to be him. The gun in my hand goes off, and even before his body hits the ground, I’ve killed one more of his buddies. Four are dead within seconds of one another. The gun in my hand isn’t the only one that goes off, though. I spin to find Thatcher holding onto one, and the men around him are now on the ground, dead or dying.

Looks like great minds think alike.

A well of laughter climbs up my throat and spills out of me. This is not how I foresaw the evening going, but fuck if this isn’t better. The dead lie scattered around us, their blood pooling around them like full body halos. Around us, the houses are quiet. The boarded-up row homes only house cockroaches and maybe a few homeless who have no intention of sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Knox is going to be pissed he missed out on this,” Thatcher says with a grin.

“Naw, he’s having the time of his life,” I object as I toss the gun onto the corpse it once belonged to. With my gloves on, I’ve left no prints meaning the police will be none the wiser on who did this. “We leavin’ these guys or tossing them into the back of the truck and taking them back to Bright Starr?”

“Let their blood stain these streets,” Thatcher snarls with a predator’s delight. “Let whoever is watching us see that we’re not intimidated by him.”

I nod as I turn to catch Thatcher tossing the gun into a sewage runoff.

“We need to get going,” I tell him. “Beatrix?—”

A whistle pierces the air. The sound comes from a distance—that I’m sure of. The only reason it sounds loud is because of the empty houses, the noise bounces off. This must be the signal these guys had been waiting for.

I wonder what the point of this job was for them? Was it an initiation thing? I’ll have to do some research when we get home. While fun, I’m not sure we can afford to risk coming back to this particular part of town. Not if we don’t want a repeat performance.

“Come on, we need to get to Beatrix,” Thatcher says quickly as he slides into the driver’s seat. “She might’ve found herself in a similar situation.”

The thrill of killing dims as I think about her facing off with a group of armed fiends. My hands curl into fists. None of these fucking bastards get to touch my Little Viper.

“Let’s go.”

14

BEATRIX

Ihum along to the music that’s bumping in my head as I walk.

My off-tune humming isn’t the only sound around me. It’s hard to miss the sounds of the city, even as far out as we are from where we’d been only an hour or so ago, but this neighborhood is relatively quiet and I’m a bit lonely after a night of being around people.

Lonely and a little scared.

The buzz of alcohol mixed with the sick, perverse euphoria from killing a person last night is being overshadowed by trepidation. What sane woman walks in the dark, down city streets as scummy as these ones? None of them do. Especially not alone. I mean, I might not be completely alone, Thatcher and Sagan are probably creeping along down parallel streets or whatever, but I definitelyfeelalone. And what’s worse? Ilookalone. I know I stick out and I know that’s what the twins are banking on, but without their obvious presence, I feel like I'm a mouse and a horde of cats is just waiting to pounce.

Turning down another lane, I try to keep my pace even. The muscles in my legs bunch, ready to take me further and faster if need be. But as much as I’d like to simply take off down this street, running in terror isn’t going to help my cause. I’ll onlydraw more attention to myself. If I can justlooklike I belong, like I have a destination in mind, maybe people will just leave me alone.

I stop at an intersection and wait as a dark SUV drives by.

Once it’s gone, I cross the street and turn right. I don’t know where I’m going, and the guys didn’t really give me any clue as to which way I should be heading, so I just let my feet take me wherever. It doesn’t take long until my fingers go numb. The superficial warmth the alcohol gave me is wearing off. I take another turn. Unable to keep the paranoia at bay, I look back over my shoulder. There’s no one following me. Maybe the twins are waiting until there is before stepping out of wherever they’re watching me from. I hope that’s the case.

Up ahead, a navy-blue SUV slides down the street toward me, coming from the opposite direction. Hold on. My footsteps falter. That can’t be the same dark SUV that had passed me by a few minutes ago, right? My stomach clenches. Do the guys have a backup plan for if I get jumped and dragged into a car? God, I hope so. I wrap my arms around myself and look away from the vehicle that rolls on by.

The soft screeching sound of brakes that need to be replaced let me know that the vehicle has come to a stop behind me.

Ok, surelythiswarrants a slight pace increase. No, wait. I grit my teeth as I fight my terror. This could be an opportunity for the guys to strike. It takes everything in me not bolt.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you ok?”

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