Page 45 of Crush (Deadly Hearts 1)

ChapterTwenty-Four

Ruby

Ibarely notice the drive out to the edge of the city in the drizzle, in a car that Declan is driving but isn’t his DB9. It appeared out of nowhere in the parking lot at the back of the bar, a huge black SUV. Like, hello? How conspicuously gangster of us.

But who cares? All I want now is to get Ramsey back and to make Jake pay for this.

When Declan pulls up outside an abandoned warehouse on a deserted industrial estate, I breathe a sigh of relief. At least we won’t attract too much attention.

I climb out wordlessly from the back seat and grab my bag. I unzip it and pull out a handgun, shoving it into the back of my leather pants. I place another on the seat of the car while I pull out two flashbangs.

Shoving one of them down my top to save up my hands for the other one and the gun, I turn and march off towards the warehouse. I don’t give a rat’s ass that Declan hisses at me to stay put while he does recon. We don’t have time for that. I don’t have time for that.

If Jake seriously wanted me dead, I’d be dead. The attack in the alleyway was a scare tactic, and taking Ramsey was his way of saying he knows who he is to me, that he’s watching us closely.

Inhaling deeply, I brush the rain out of my face, glad I had the foresight to tie my hair up in a bun so it’s not sticking to my face. I step inside the darkened warehouse on high alert. It stinks of damp, making my stomach clench in protest.

My adrenaline spiking, I shut the door and stick to the wall as I walk around. I can’t see anyone yet, just a big open space. My heart is thumping. I’m not afraid, but I am cautious. I have no idea what I’m walking into. How many men are there? What weapons do they have? Is Ramsey still alive? Will they kill him before I get a chance to rescue him? All of these questions are clouding my brain and I need to clear it, or I am no use to anyone.

With my breathing as steady as I can make it, my hands sweating only slightly, I push off from the metal wall and stalk quietly over to the sectioned off offices at the back. I pull the plug on the first flashbang and chuck it straight forward, through the open door, diving for cover with my eyes scrunched shut and my hands over my ears, still holding the gun. Even through the obscene noise of the flashbang, I hear the cries of the several men that it affected. Ramsey is probably one of them, but I can’t think about that now. I have seconds to remobilize and get into the offices where I know they now are.

Standing up straight and ignoring the buzz in my ears, I walk steadily over to the doorway, gun leveled, ready to fire at the first person who comes at me. Turns out, it’s two, both at the same time, lunging towards me, knives held out.

The saying about bringing knives to a gunfight echoes through my head and makes me laugh out loud like a maniac.

It echoes throughout the empty warehouse.

I plant my feet, aim and pull the trigger.

The noise the shot makes, hurts my ears, but I stand still.

I hit my target in the shoulder, right where I was aiming for. Fatal gunshots are not an option. Not unless it’s my life for theirs and right now, they aren’t that big of a threat. It’s not that I’m scared of killing, it’s just a bigger mess to clean up.

“Fuck!” My victim yells, dropping to the ground, hand on his wound, dropping his knife in the process. “You bitch!”

It gives his partner pause. That tells me one thing.

They aren’t Jake’s best men. They are here as dummy protection. Jake isn’t risking his real deals. I wonder why. What is all of this about?

I point the gun at the other man’s head.

He practically shits himself, holding his hands up as if this was a stick up.

I almost sigh with disappointment.

That is until my heightened senses pick up movement behind me and I duck the second before someone takes a swipe at my head with a baseball bat.

“Fuck!” I roar and spin in my crouched position to face my attacker. I’m pissed off now. I have no idea where Ramsey is and now, I’ve got this asshole to contend with. I aim the gun again, but he doesn’t even flinch.

It gets kicked out of my hand moments later by the second guy who grew a pair now that the heavy lifter is here.

That’s when I fall into a quiet calm. I pull the second gun from out of the back of my pants and stand up. “Where the fuck is he?” I growl.

“You come alone?” my attacker growls back.

“Does it look like there’s anyone else here?”

“You’ve got balls,” he says with a laugh, swinging his bat. “You going to shoot me?”

---