Page 183 of Fury

“She’s fine.”

She was burning for Catch is what she was doing. I’d caught him texting with her the other day. I couldn’t blame him. But I’d made it clear there was to be no physical contact until she and Butler had officially broken up.

A grin pushed at the edges of my mouth as I shoved my gloves back on. This was almost comical. “I’m off.”

Jump pulled in the courtyard in an SUV, braking alongside Nina’s car. Her head was bent over the steering wheel. She got out of her car, a scowl on her face, talking to Jump as she gestured at her RAV4.

“Looks like your woman’s got car trouble. You gonna fly to her rescue?” I asked Butler.

Jump got down from his vehicle and got into the RAV4, settling in the driver’s seat.

“Jump seems to be handling it,” Butler said.

“Yeah.” Jump was a regular hero.

Butler and I tagged fists, giving each other a nod. I swung a leg over my chopper, adjusting myself in my saddle. “Call me, let me know how the meet goes.”

“Will do.”

Suddenly, Jump propelled himself from the car, his long braid flying, shoving Nina back as he went.

Boom.

I launched off my bike, the ground shuddering underneath me. Nina’s car burst into flames, shaking like a toy. Orange fireballs rolled and unfurled in the air. Nina’s car had been bombed.

Butler was frozen to the spot. I grabbed hold of his arm, and we sprang behind a row of bikes, our hands flying over our heads. Charred debris soared in the air and rained down on us, crashing to the ground.

He shot up. “Nina!”

Women screamed, men shouted, alarms blared. Thick black billows of smoke blocked any trace of Nina or Jump.

Butler hurtled toward the burning car, me at his heels.

Nina lay facedown at the other end of the car, her one arm twisted awkwardly, blood splattered along the side of her face.

“Ambulance is on its way!” Boner’s yell cut through the air.

Jump was sprawled on the ground in a heap on the other end within the black mushroom cloud of smoke. I crouched over his lifeless body. Was he dead? I hoped to fuck he was.

“I don’t give a shit what you need. Can’t help you.”Jump’s words from two decades ago were like a snake rattling its tail at me.“Why should I take a risk for you? No fucking way,”he’d sneered while me and Serena were on the run, bleeding, in pain.

I’d never forgotten it. That was the last time I’d ever asked anyone for a favor, ever begged or pleaded for anything.

Now that me and the Jacks were finding a rhythm between us, Jump still hadn’t dropped his pent up spite with me and my club. He’d bottled it up like old wine over the centuries, releasing the cork and setting off odorous fumes whenever he felt like it. I needed Butler to function in high gear, not be stuck in stop-start traffic. Once I finally dealt with the Broken Blades and their territory was all mine to restructure, I’d need the Jacks one hundred per cent cooperative, not defensive or wary.

I leaned over Jump sprawled on the ground, and a straggly wheezing filled my ear. My pulse picked up speed at his struggling to breathe. He was still alive; there was hope.

My father’s words roared back to me:“Patience, planning, and precise calculating. And many times you need to improvise at the last minute. You gotta be ready for anything at any time.”

Anything at any time.

I was ready.

I pressed one gloved hand onto Jump’s chest, the other pinching his nostrils closed.

His wheezing intensified for a moment, his eyes jerking open, eyebrows flinching. He recognized me. Yes, he knew. He held my gaze for a split second, a choking sound erupting in his throat, and in that second the pressure I exerted on him sapped him of his shitty life. That feeling of a good, just kill never got old. Clean, bright, fucking enthralling.

Die, motherfucker.

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