Page 20 of Savage Hunter

Strong hands grip my arms and I sling one off while feeding my fist to another. Both fall to the rocks. My foot buries into the gut of one before a door to another van at my back flies open and more guards pour out.

I grab the gun from the guy at my feet, give him back a bullet and bury two more in the nearest asshole. Another stops in his tracks when his buddy drops dead.

“Good. Now run.”

I’m not into shooting people in the back.

I turn on Primrose, my chest heaving like a beast. I must look like one too, because she falters and takes a step back. But that daring, megalomaniac gleam in her eyes never fades. “Release my sister and I won’t end you all.” It’s not an empty threat, and she knows it. I didn’t go into special forces and I don’t have metals to pin to my chest. But I know how to kill. I excel at it, in fact. I did what it took to get myself out of foster care, and then my sister. Her college degree wasn’t free either. Good money doesn’t come easy.

“That is an enormous threat coming from a man with ten guns pointed at his head.” Primrose’s lips pull into a brilliant smile and the darkness in me lashes out. I point my gun at her forehead, chamber loaded. A pull of the trigger and the world is a better place.

Black Armani enters my line of sight.

“Nyet!None of that.” I don’t recognize the man stepping into my line of sight, but he’s got a death wish. His Russian accent is thick and I’m going to enjoy cutting his tongue from his mouth. He holds up the phone and shows me my sister tied to a chair and gagged.

Anger festers inside me. “Release my sister and I will fade from your lives. You’ll never see me again. My name will never have a reason to cross your lips,” I blatantly lie to her face. But years in the foster care system and then another two decades clawing my way to the top taught me how to make people believe anything I say.

Primrose reaches for the phone as she gestures for me to hand over my weapon. Fine. I don’t need a gun to end her life. Her blue eyes consider me for a second. Faint sounds of siren going off in the distance visibly grate on her nerves. She better get used to the law hunting her down. Because once I find Harmonia, I won't stop hunting her mother down until I have her blood coating my hands.

She turns the phone around and speaks to whoever the unlucky bastard is holding my sister against her will. “Take the Carter girl to the nearest church and release her. She can fall to her knees and thank her God I am merciful.”

Primrose turns to leave, the Russian escorting her into her mansion. There’s only one regret I have in my life and that is signing on to work for her. Something I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for.

With a force I don’t recognize, I throw off the fucker using two hands to hold me down. One of them makes the mistake of trying for a better grip on my arm and that is when I break his nose and then his jaw. Blood smears over my knuckles—his and mine.

I snarl in his face and repeat my movements shaking off the piece of shit holding my left. This one has tucked a Desert Eagle 44 Magnums into the back of his pants. Fucking fool. I jerk it free, aim and start taking out only those who pose a threat. And that means every one of these fuckers. One by one Primrose’s enforcers drop to the floor dead. The deafening sound of my gun is like a beautiful song. They are a threat to Harmonia’s life and I have no problem ending them before any of them can hurt her.

I grab the keys to the van from the man closest to it. I can either go after the queenpin or Harmonia. Not both.

I don’t look back as I point the van in the direction they took Harmonia. The stench of death and blood follows me.

I won’t stop until I find her. I don’t care how many people I have to kill to get her out of the hands of the Society.

* * *

Wolfe

“Have you seen this woman?”

I hold up my phone, flip it around and show the picture to a man with a six-inch scar down the side of his face. He squints in the low light, looks and shakes his head. I was hoping tonight would be easy. From the outside it’s nothing but old stonework and a single black door, but to enter that door you have to have a lot of money and a membership. I have one but not the other. I pull out a Benjamin Franklin and push it into his hands.

“How about now?”

I know a killer when I see one. But I don’t care who you are or what you do. Money talks. The bouncer scratches at his chin, tucks the bill in his pocket and still doesn’t give me an answer I can work with.

“Nope.”

“Maybe someone inside can help.”

Six feet of muscle steps in front of me. I have a couple of inches on him and he has a good one hundred pounds on me. Here, size doesn’t matter.

“You’re not getting in.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and thinks that will keep me from entering The Ritual—a seedy underground club in the heart of Chicago known for three things. Sex, drugs and dirty deals. It is literally three levels below one of the ritziest hotels in the windy city. And one big ass secret.

I tilt my head to the side and make a plea for a moment of his time and humanity. You get more with sugar and all that shit, right? Let’s see if that is true.

“Look again, please. I need to find her. She is in a bad way, if you know what I mean.” I don’t have a lot of time, Harmonia has less. I know the odds are not in my favor but I won’t give up.

---