Wherethe hell are Sam and Kole?
“Should…should we take these from you then?” Hank steps forward, but I shake my head, pulling the empty boxes back out of his reach.
“Oh, uh, actually,” I let out a nervous laugh before biting my lip. “I’m not allowed to release the pizzas into your custody until I get a signature…”
The man arches a brow at me and I mentally curse myself. Custody? Really?
As I shift the boxes to one hand, Hayden’s humor-filled voice fills my ear. “Did you really just use the word ‘custody’ when referring to a pizza? You sound like West.” I reach behind me for the gun holstered at my back. Hayden chuckles in my ear. “Now I’m imagining a legal battle between a pizzeria and a customer for who gets weekend visitation with the pizzas.”
West says something in the background, and Hayden huffs. “Fuck, sorry. Hold off, Fireball. They aren’t at the back door yet. They ran into an overly-friendly doberman next door.”
I give a nervous laugh, stalling as I pretend to have a hard time finding a pen in my back pocket. “Sorry, this is my first job and I’m…a little nervous.”
The guy who asked if I “come with the pizzas” grins. “That’s okay, sweet-cheeks. If you want to earn somereallygood tip money, I have a couple of other ideas.” He shoots me a wink, and my fingers itch to move an inch to the left to get my knife instead of the gun so I can stab this fucker in his smug little face.
Hayden’s voice sounds in my ear again. “They’re in position, Fireball.”
Smiling, I glance up behind the four men in front of me, and finally Kole and Sam are standing outside the sliding glass door.
My hand closes around the grip of my pistol as the asshat fails to stop talking. “What do you say, sweet-cheeks? Feel like putting something big in your mouth while I put this pizza in mine?”
That’s it.
“Oops!” I gasp as I drop the boxes, using my left hand to grab my knife. Hank lunges forward to try to catch the falling “pizza”, and then I’m holding my pistol in my right hand, aimed right at Hank’s forehead, and my knife in my left. “Sorry, fellas,” my Southern accent comes back to its full drawl. The asshole who propositioned me has less than a half second to reach for his weapon before I’m flipping the knife to hold it by the blade, and then launching it straight into his throat. “Delivery’s been cancelled.”
Whatam I saying? Did I land in some sorta nineties action movie?
Despite my awkward one-liner, the others curse, scrambling for their weapons. The beta’s eyes widen, his hands flying to his neck in a panic. Stupidly, he yanks it out, causing a torrent of blood to pour from his wound. I must’ve hit the carotid artery.
Nice.
The sliding glass door flies open, and Sam and Kole storm the room, their weapons drawn. I move to the side, making sure to stay out of any crossfire.
“Put your hands up!” Sam barks, and the fuckers slowly comply, their hands leaving their belts and raising up above their heads. All except the asshole who thought it was a good idea to sexually proposition a pizza delivery girl.
Yeah, he drops dead about a second after Sam and Kole come in.
“We weren’t supposed to kill them, Trouble.” Sam scolds me.
I shrug, my aim never leaving Hank. “He asked if I wanted to earn my tip adifferentway.”
Kole growls before quickly switching his aim and shooting the dead bastard in the back of the head. “Now he isverydead.”
The suppressed shot isn’t loud enough to alert any neighbors who might have ignored our fake HOA email, but Sam giveshim an exasperated look before shaking his head and turning his attention to the four remaining men. “Listen up, fuckers. If you listen and play your cards right, youmightend up getting out of this alive.”
“Fuck off, Alpha scum.” Hank spits. “We ain’t telling you a thing. Prometheus warned us you might try to show up.”
“And yet you fell for my pizza-girl act so easily.” I roll my eyes.
Sam shoots me a look. “All I want to know is what happened to the residents of this house,” he says calmly. “Did Prometheus pay them? Are Mr. and Mrs. Draven safe somewhere on a tropical island? Or…?”
Hank smirks. “As it happens, Mr. Draven killed his wife and then offed himself yesterday. Their bodies are still in the upstairs bedroom. We just haven’t gotten around to reporting it, if you believe it. It’s such a shame, really. The wife was a school teacher…sweet little old thing. And the husband is…wasa retired cop.” He grins, leaning forward slightly. “You know,Josephine Harding, it’s disturbingly easy to fake a suicide. It makes me wonder why you didn’t just do that when you murdered all those alphas.” He leans back again. “Then again, nobody’s ever praised an omega for their brains.”
Hank’s words stir something in my gut, but before I can do anything about it, the small whiz of a bullet leaving a silenced gun sounds, and Hank falls to the ground in a heap.
Blinking, I look at my trigger finger. No, I did not accidentally discharge my weapon in a perfect headshot at the asshole who was being a complete dickhead.
My gaze darts to Sam, whose nostrils are flared in rage. “Anyone else feel like talking?” he barks.
