Page 59 of Wrecked

Wrath placed the toe of his boot in the crack to keep the door ajar and he strained to listen.

Rogue advanced through the dark, letting the sounds and smells settle around him. Water trickled somewhere near what he assumed was a bathroom. The low hum of the air conditioning buzzed in the quiet.

Rogue waited.

His eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark, but really, he couldn’t see shit so he had to risk turning on a light.

Flipping on the small reading light near the king-sized bed, a small glow shot the room.

That’s when he saw Crow.

In the middle of a blood bath.

The assassin was sprawled out on his back, unmoving.

Dead body upon dead body lay grotesquely on the floor. Throats slashed, limbs broken, necks snapped.

Rogue stepped over bodies to get to Crow. He picked up the dead perp lying over Crow’s legs and tossed it aside. Another man lay pinning Crow’s arm and Rogue picked up and tossed that dead fucker like a leaf.

“Crow!” he hissed, hoisting the man up, but Crow’s head bent forward.

That’s when Rogue noticed the dark matted hair on the side of Crow’s head. He carried Crow to the bed and placed him there.

“Clear!” Rogue yelled, pressing his fingers to Crow’s throat. He found a strong pulse and gave a sigh of relief.

Wrath barreled in followed by Stone.

“Is he dead?” Wrath went right into medic mode.

“No, but should we call the EMTs?” Rogue asked roughly.

Crow’s cheek was cold to the touch, but that could have been from lack of blood and the air blowing in the room.

“Let me assess him first.” Wrath moved him aside and took over.

Rogue was glad for it. Wrath was a former Army medic and sure as shit knew his stuff.

“Grab me those sweatpants,” Wrath said and Rogue snatched up the sweatpants and helped pull them up and over Crow’s naked hips.

“See if you can get that wound on his arm to stop bleeding,” Wrath ordered Rogue and bent closer to assess the slice on Crow’s chest. “That’s not too bad,” Wrath told Crow.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rogue pressed the bed sheet to the open wound where a bullet had creased Crow’s arm.

Moving Rogue out of the way, Wrath tore a piece of the sheet and tied it around Crow’s arm.

“You’re lucky, neither of them needs stitches,” Wrath said.

“Thanks,” Crow said gruffly.

Wrath frowned when Stone pulled his phone out.

“You calling 911?”

“Are we really going to call the fucking cops?” Rogue snapped at Stone.

Stone’s eyes hardened at Rogue’s tone of voice, but he had to remind himself that Rogue didn’t report to him.

“Savage…” Stone said into the phone. “We need cleaners in Los Angeles.” After listening for a moment, Stone hung up.

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