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“Nobody betrays me and lives,” Murray said softly. “Nobody.” He lunged and the force of their collision had Zander losing his balance. He crashed to the ground, taking his uncle with him as one of the guns fell from his grasp.
“Motherfucker!” Murray bared his teeth and something hot and sharp burned in Zander’s side.
Fuck. He gritted his teeth at the pain, rearing back and then slamming his head into his uncle’s. Murray cried out and toppled off him. Zander scrambled for the gun and brought it up as Murray lifted a hand, something glittering in the light.
Pfft pfft.
Two shots under that motherfucker’s chin and Zander rolled away, sitting back on his haunches, chest heaving. He eyed his uncle, who was sprawled out on his back, eyes open and unseeing at the sky, the bloodied knife he’d used on Zander lying inches away. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet and stood over Murray. And just for good measure, because it was what his uncle had taught him, he put another bullet between that bastard’s eyes.
“That’s for my family. And for Vince. Bitch.”
Warm, sticky blood soaked his t-shirt and slid down into the waistband of his jeans. He ignored it, ignored the searing pain, too, that had his vision swimming every time he moved.
Or breathed.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number he hadn’t used in longer than he cared to remember. A number he’d memorized.
“Who the fuck is this?” a female voice, hoarse with sleep, answered.
Zander frowned, holding the phone up to his eyes to ensure he’d dialed the correct number. He had. “I need Toro.” It shouldn’t hurt to speak, but it did. He closed his eyes briefly, pressing his free hand to the wound in his side.
There was a rustle and a murmur of voices. “Who is this?” Toro asked.
Zander blew out a breath at the familiar voice. “It’s Kian.” Toro didn’t yet know he’d changed his name, and now wasn’t the time for that.
“Kian? What. The. Fuck? Where?—”
“I’m gonna text you an address.” Zander didn’t give him time to voice all the questions he knew his friend had. “I need a thorough cleanup. A-fucking-SAP.” He sent Toro the info with trembling fingers turned slippery with blood. “And I need it so that nobody around that location asks any questions.” And by nobody, he meant the authorities.
“Alright, got it.” Toro didn’t miss a beat. “My people will be there in half an hour. I’ll make sure it’s handled.”
Toro was the nephew of the former head of a Mexican cartel. They’d become friends by chance; Zander had shown up to kill someone on orders from his uncle and found Toro already there, doing the same. They could’ve turned on each other, he’d been prepared for it, but Toro had simply smiled and slit the man’s throat as Zander watched. While blood had dripped onto Zander’s pants leg, Toro had offered him a beer. They’d been friends ever since.
He’d told Toro his plans about faking his death, but this was their first contact since Zander left his old life behind. Toro had always been someone he could rely on, and he was so fucking grateful for the trust they had in each other.
With Toro’s help, that was at least one thing off Zander’s plate. Now, he had to find Vince and Scotty. “Thank you, Toro. I owe you one.”
“I think you know by now that you don’t.” His friend hesitated, then asked, “Do you need anything else?”
He needed Scotty and Vince. “Nah, I’m good.” He hung up and sent a text to his employees, telling them he was closing up shop due to an emergency and didn’t know when he’d reopen. Done with that, he dropped the phone to the ground and stepped on it with his heel, crushing it. Then he made his way back inside the building, though it took longer than he would have liked.
Walking was… It hurt. His feet dragged, but he made it. Swallowing the pain, he bit his tongue, tasting blood as he climbed down the trapdoor and made his way through the tunnel. Part of him hoped Vince and Scotty were long gone.
Another selfish part of him hoped they’d waited for him.
His movements were slow, as if he were walking through molasses, and blood dripped to the ground with every step he took. He sweated, mouth dry, vision going in and out. He stopped long enough to tear off part of his t-shirt and tie it around the wound, though he knew that didn’t really help much.
By the time he exited the tunnel into the silent parking lot, he was shaking so badly he could barely stand. He blinked sweat from his eyes as he glanced around, searching for the two men he shouldn’t have found in the first place.
He didn’t see them.
And he couldn’t deny the disappointment, as sharp as that blade his uncle had shoved into his gut. He’d told them to go. Why had he expected them to stay? At least they were safe and?—
“Zander!”
His body jerked. He turned to the right and there they were, Scotty racing toward him, Vince a few paces behind.
There they were. He took a step toward them but his knees gave out, and he was unconscious before his body hit the ground.
