Every single adversary has a head shot.
How many guys did Moretti have covering our exit?
The doors on the vehicle open, and Mario and the man who was in the passenger seat the night they picked me up file from the vehicle. At least, I assume that’s Mario who just hopped out of the driver’s seat. He was the one who drove us here tonight.
Flashbacks of the night I killed Blade file through my mind.
It wasn’t an easy choice.
Taking out my president meant I was risking losing the only family I had left. My mom still won’t talk to me, but I know I made the right call. It was time to cull the herd and take out the old-timers before they could completely poison the next generation.
Damn, I’m a little out of it.
“You’re okay,” I tell Vanessa, running my hand down her back as Grigoryan wails.
Maybe I’m comforting myself a little too. I’ve adapted to living with carnage, but at my heart, I’m a lover, not a fighter.
“Yeah, I know. Are you?” she asks, blinking up at me.
I nod, taking note of how pale her cheeks are.
Damn.
Here’s hoping we can wrap this up and get home without the cops showing. This bullshit wasloud,and that’s a lot of bodies that need to be handled.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Vanessa
Wilder Pierce, Patrick and Malachy O’Connor, and Gabriel Torres approach from the sidewalk on the right. It runs perpendicular to the semi-circle where the vehicles park, and Hawk aims at them as he climbs out of the SUV.
The last time I saw him, he was checking for pulses, so I’m not sure what he was doing in the vehicle, but he lowers his weapon as soon as recognition hits. Shoving his gun into his holster, he stomps our way with a bottle of water.
Moretti continually taunts Grigoryan, who sounds like he’s in rough shape. I’m so frazzled that I’m not sure where to look or what to do.
I want to go home, goddammit.
Dealing with a massacre and the cleanup required to not go to prison following it was not on my imaginary to-do list. I was well-fucked and ready for bed, and this kinda ruined the vibes.
Once Hawk makes it to us, he hands the bottle of water to Magnum, along with a small plastic baggie.
“I was worried you’d be in pain, so I brought your next dose of meds with us. Take that,” Hawk says, nodding at Magnum. “Hopefully it’ll help get your pain under control.” He pries meout of Magnum’s hold, wrapping his arms around my lower back. “You okay, sweet girl?”
I nod, but my nose wrinkles as I pick up hints of blood. It taints his scent, and I almost take a step back to check him over for injuries. The only thing that stops me is that I know for a fact no bullets were directed at us. He must have gotten bloody while checking the corpses.
“Did you know this was coming?” I ask, my tone coming off as accusatory.
“He did not,” Moretti says, and I pull my face from Hawk’s chest to see where he is. He strides closer, putting his gun away. Looking over at Wilder, the O’Connor brothers, and Torres, he says, “Give me just one minute, gentlemen.”
Grigoryan’s screaming has finally stopped, but I didn’t hear any more gunshots, so maybe he passed out.
That, or they drugged him to knock his ass out.
“We’re always on high alert when we’re leaving the warehouse,” Hawk says, nuzzling his cheek to the top of my head.
I’m still learning the ins and outs of the bond, but it feels like he’s poking around, trying to gauge my emotions.
Moretti stops a few feet away, holding out an arm.
