Page 77 of Wrecked

Rebel needed to spell it out for him.

Crow had to hear the words.

“He didn’t touch me or rape me.”

Crow lost his breath and squeezed until Rebel made a slight grunt.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly.

Rip kept his gun steady on Lincoln. Rogue’s confirmation that they’d found Rebel had come in over his comms a few minutes ago and just seconds before Lincoln had snatched Boston.

Azrael only had maybe two minutes to get Rebel out there in exchange for Boston.

“You can’t just take people,” Rip told the guy, wondering if he took a shot if the bullet from Lincoln’s gun would fire into Boston.

Without a doubt, it would. The barrel was pressed to Boston’s temple.

“Hey, we found…” Wrath’s voice trailed off.

“Stay the fuck back and bring me Rebel,” Lincoln said and Boston gasped as his head was yanked back and the gun pressed harder against his skin.

“Okay, just calm down. Azrael will bring him,” Rip said.

It was uncanny how it happened.

The next moments were something that Rip would remember for the rest of his life. And he was damned sure he would tell the story for years to come.

He didn’t know how Azrael had done it, but the tiny assassin came up from the ground behind Lincoln.

With a knife in each hand, Azrael plunged one into Lincoln’s back and the other simultaneously up through the wrist holding the gun.

There was no way for Lincoln to pull the trigger after that.

Jimmy howled and Boston was free.

Rip rushed forward and yanked Boston up in his grip and shoved him behind him. He was ready to fire, but Azrael was dancing around Lincoln with those fucking knives.

Azrael’s hair flew around his head as blade after blade sliced and diced at Jimmy Lincoln.

When the man fell to his knees, gazing at him with shocked wide eyes, Azrael moved up behind him and caught the man’s hair in one fist. He pulled Lincoln’s head back and sliced with the knife, opening the man’s throat.

Lincoln fell forward, dead before he hit the ground.

Azrael wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving behind a stain of blood.

“Az!” Boston rushed around him and tore over to the young assassin, clutching him tightly.

Azrael patted Boston’s back, holding Rip’s gaze across the distance.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t Rip who spoke, but Rebel who stood in the doorway along with Crow and Rogue.

Winter came from the same direction as Azrael and Rip suspected that the man had given Azrael one of the knives.

The only one who could have come up behind the man in this situation was Azrael, because as stealthy as Winter was, the man was too fucking big to sneak up on someone in broad daylight.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re safe,” Azrael said, wiping both blades on his pants as if it were just another day at the office.

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