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The men turn our way, and Marcus pales but is smart enough to stay quiet as I walk over to inspect the shot. I’m impressed with Michael’s accuracy and balls to take this risk when he still looks in pain himself. I can respect that. Forgive but never forget.
“Center of forehead and clean exit by the puddle beneath his head. Welcome back, kid.”
Michael makes a humming sound, and I look back to see him place a hand over his heart. He’s a good person that made a mistake. He paid for those crimes with blood and the removal of his tongue, took it like a champ, and I’ll repay him for proving his loyalty when all is said and done.
“Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?” the older man beside a quiet Marcus asks. “This is a private sale. I’ve already paid for that cunt to suck—” He doesn’t get to finish as I pull my knife out, flip it open, and slide it across his throat. The cut is deep enough to kill, and it splatters across myself and Marcus, ruining my white dress shirt.
I’ll never know his name. If he has a family.
None of that matters when his intentions were to hurt the one I love the most in this world.
Blood flows from the open wound and he weakens, dropping to his knees in front of me. Fisting his hair, I yank his head back, stretching the torn skin, prompting more of his life’s force to drip onto the wet ground below.
“Please,” he cries, a gurgling sound as he begins to choke. “Please get me help.”
“She’s mine.” His eyes widen at my words before I slide the blade once more, cutting his aorta. I drop him and let him bleed out while I turn to face Marcus fucking Foster. “Anything you want to say? Explain?”
“You can have her,” he says, holding a hand out as if to keep me from advancing. It didn’t. “All I need is five million dollars and two tickets to Mexico. Give me that, and you’ll never see Alton and me again.”
“Really. Just five?” Wiping the dirty blade on my pants, I bring the gleaming steel between us. “Why not ten? Fifty, even?”
“That would be very generous of you. I’d be forever—” The back of my hand cuts him off, the force of the blow causing him to stagger back and fall.
“I’m going to enjoy every single second of your death, Marcus.” Standing over him, I place the sole of my shoe on his chest. “However, before that can happen, I have a promise to fulfill. I told you you’d have a front seat to Alton’s end, and I’m a man who keeps his words.”
38
Present…
FUCKING IDIOTS.
We’re about two hours from The Loop and on Lake Michigan standing a little way down from a power plant outside of Milwaukee. London is here. Being held here. Her locket is pinging with a signal and coming from a run-down warehouse toward the east side of this property.
It could be storage.
Could be a structure that they’ve been meaning to tear down and haven’t.
Could be that after the workday is done and employees go home to their families, someone has been letting criminal activity take place on the premises. Someone, like the balding fuck currently slumped over his desk chair inside the central office.
However, I will thank the man for having the CCTV live system off and the recorder looping through footage from last week. Saves me time.
Ready and in position. ~Javi
Hold~ Malcolm
My eyes scan the surrounding buildings and the lone structure where they hold London. No one seems to be on high alert. Monitoring the entrances. They’re doing a shit job at surveillance.
Overconfidence is a disease many people suffer from. Too cocky. Too stuck within the it’ll never happen mind frame, and this reeks of it.
Of narcissism on a level that is dangerous.
They’re lazily watching the front and back, and yet, the few assholes Alton put together as guards are laughable. Incompetent. Five in total and spread out, the men all imbibing. High. Too busy snorting coke and playing with the cheap guns given to notice they’re surrounded on all sides.
“Boss,” Carmelo speaks low beside me, looking through a pair of binoculars toward the entrance. He left the hospital to join me after I sent Michael to take his place. “We have movement. Hayes and Jimmy are outside talking, and Alton has gone inside.”
“And the whore?”
“Getting high as a kite inside of Alton’s car.” The car in question, a blue Mustang, begins to inch forward and then stop. It does this three times until Brittany lowers the window and sticks her head out, yelling out something to Hayes.
