I glance outside the car window, my surroundings familiar, but we're not quite there. I touch my newly bandaged shoulder, not feeling any pain yet.
Amber hands me a gun and buttons up my pajama shirt again. It's fucking surreal; I have a fed handing me a gun. She rests her hands on my pecs when she's done.
“Stop that,” I tell her.
She throws her head back and laughs, bringing her hands up in surrender. “The meds will wear off in an hour or so,” she says, looking at her watch.
“That's all I need,” I say.
I try to play it out in my head—if I took someone and held them in one of our warehouses, where would I take them?
There's an iron hatch in the office floor leading underground to a big storage area, separated into two. That's where, I decide. I quickly explain to them where it is, and that's where I'm going. They can cover me, or something. Whatever cops or feds do.
Colin shakes his head. “No, man. You're on your own.”
It takes me a beat until I finally nod, understanding. We are on different sides of the law. “You're not coming back at all?”
Amber snorts. “In an hour this place will be surrounded by feds. Consider it a gift.”
“What? Why—”
“I think I owe you,” Colin interrupts me. “I wouldn’t have died, but you stood up for me. You're a good man, whether you believe it or not. You've got old-school morals and beliefs. If we're dealing with the mob, we'd rather it's you.”
I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered.
I get out of the car, holding the door open. Amber follows me out, and so does Colin. She leans down and takes out another gun from under her jeans leg, throwing it to me. “Just in case.” She winks, smiling. “Good luck,” she says, saluting me, and closes the door, then walks away.
Colin hands me the keys to the car. “Yeah, man.” That’s all he says, turning around and going after her.
I look down at the keys. “What about you two?” I ask. Colin just raises his hand and waves it. I stare at their retreating silhouettes as they disappear behind the building, thinking—well, I still can’t wrap my head around it. They're fucking feds.
I look up at the sky, the stars still visible, although it's early morning. Then I square my shoulders, and head in to get back the woman I love. Whatever happens, I won't let anyone take her away from me.
I walk slowly inside the warehouse, and immediately spot an armed man outside the office. Only one. Cocky bastards. I approach him quietly, holding the gun Amber gave me in my injured hand, the other one secured at my waist. It's not like I plan on shooting; that would only attract attention. I sneak up on him from behind and dig it into his back, clamping my good hand over his mouth. He tenses under my grasp, but I don’t give him time to react. I pull his head to the side and hear the crack in his neck, then lower his lifeless body to the ground.
The lights are off in the office, making me nervous. I can't see a thing in there. I walk, the sneakers Colin brought me making no sound against the floor. It seems to be clear.
I lift the hatch, and as I suspected, the lights are on down there. I descend the stairs, shifting the gun to my good hand. Again, nobody seems to be around. Did they really think no one would search, or find them here?
I open the door to the bigger storage area, pointing the gun inside. It seems to be empty. Then I hear a voice booming behind the other door, the one to the smaller storage room. Suddenly, the door opens, and I move aside against the wall. That fucker, George, closes it behind him, lighting up a cigarette. I emerge from the shadow, my gun already pointed at him.
He looks taken aback at my appearance, shifting on his feet, then opens his mouth to say something. I shoot, straight between his eyes. There's rustle in the room and then the door flies open one more time, Stevie coming out with a drowsy looking Leighton in front of him.
She smiles at me, a huge gash across her cheek and her left eye all swollen. I don't have the time to feel relieved that she’s at least alive because he has a gun against her temple. Why is she smiling?
“What did you do to her?” I yell.
He leers at me. “What didn't we do to her?” he asks, grinding into her back.
I see red.
I charge at him and he pushes her away and against me. I clench my teeth in pain; all the adrenaline made me forget I have a gunshot wound in my shoulder.
He turns to run away and I raise my gun to shoot him, holding up Leighton with my bad arm.
I was always told shooting someone when they turn their back on you is not an honorable thing to do. In fact, this is what Stevie himself taught me.
Well, fuck honor. This prick has killed my family, manipulated me, and now, he’s done God knows what to the one person I’d kill for at this point.
I shoot him in his left leg, then the other, and he falls down, cursing in pain. He turns around on the floor, his gun pointed at us, and I quickly pull Leighton in the storage room, placing her down to sit. She clutches with her arms around my neck when I try to pull away, so I forcefully unclamp them and leave her sitting there, heading back out.
“No, stay,” she calls for me, a desperate sound that stops me in my tracks.
I come back to her, thinking I'm wasting time but I need to make sure she's okay. I cup her face in my hands. She looks at me, her eyes unfocused, her pupils dilated, and smiles. “Am I dead?”
“No, Leighton,” I say, placing a kiss to her forehead. “You'll be fine. I came for you.”
Her eyes fill with tears, making my heart hurt. “I didn't mean to—” she sobs. “—I killed you. I fucking killed you.”
“Leighton, I'm here. The bullet barely grazed me.” I repeat Amber's lie. It wouldn't hurt like a bitch if it just grazed me. Then again, I've never been shot before, so maybe it can be much worse than this.
She just cries harder. Whatever they gave her isn't anywhere near wearing off. I wipe away her tears, kissing her salty lips. It hurts like hell to leave her when she's like this, but I need to take care of Stevie first.
I peek from the room, and see Stevie is trying to crawl away, sliding across the floor toward the other storage room. I walk after him. He turns on his back and shoots, barely missing. I raise my gun and shoot his arm. His gun clatters to the floor, echoing in the hallway. He scrambles for it, so I shoot again, this time aiming at his stomach. He falls down to the floor, unmoving, as a red patch soaks his shirt.
I walk up to him, my gun still at aim, and kick his gun with my foot out of his reach, although there's no point. Blood gurgles audibly up his throat and out of his mouth, sliding down his cheek and dripping onto the floor. He's trying to say something, still conscious. I like it like that. I aim the gun at his groin, smiling, and shoot again. And again. And again, until there are no more bullets left.
I stand there for at least ten minutes, watching him die. It's a glorious feeling. I was fooling myself, thinking I'm above this. I wanted this revenge so bad. Amber was right; this is exactly who I am.
I walk back to the room where I left Leighton, only to find her still crying, mumbling to herself. “I just want to die,” I hear her say.
“Come on,” I say, lifting her up and supporting her on my good shoulder. The other one is starting to throb already.
She puts her arms around my waist, squeezing, still mumbling. We're slowly making our way up the stairs, when we hear another gunshot.
“Fuck,” I say, at the same time as Leighton squeals. I take out the spare gun from my waistband, and continue climbing up the stairs, hoping Leighton doesn't make another sound. We're so fucking close to being out of this place, and I am not letting anything stop me now.