Page 51 of Ruin

“What the fuck is he doing?”

I looked over to see Remy, his face red and his gun in his hand, and then looked back. Brock was still shooting, screaming and spraying bullets every which way, his anger too big to control—and definitely too big to allow him to aim effectively.

“Revenge,” I said, sharply. “Let’s go.”

We were off the curb and running in his direction when Devil and the bodyguard started shooting back. Brock ducked and bobbed, seemingly avoiding the bullets, and dove for the closest car, never ceasing with his return fire, but I could already see that this wasn’t going to go well. The car didn’t give him the sort of cover he was going to need. He’d still be exposed, with only a very tiny place to hide.

And he didn’t get there.

They had moved around to where they had a better shot at him, their guns just as big as his and their aim unimpeded by emotion. They shot with cold precision, aiming right for the big man, and within moments Brock’s body was jerking, shot by at least five bullets. He screamed and went down, but he kept shooting until Devil finished him with a round of bullets straight to his head.

Remy and I jerked to a stop, time doing that thing where it slows to a crawl when something tragic happens. The world went fuzzy and dark at the edges as I saw another friend stop moving, his life over.

Tinker’s brother. I’d lost them both.

And I’d lost them both to the same man.

Rage shot through me, and I turned my gun on Devil and his man, screaming as I sent bullet after bullet their way. When I ran out of bullets in my first gun, I yanked my backup out of my holster and started in with that one, moving toward them so quickly that their bullets somehow kept missing me. Beside and slightly behind me, I could hear Remy moving with me, backing me up.

Remy. I had Remy with me.

The world came back into sharp focus as the idea that he was backing me up finally sank in. Remy was right here, which meant I wasn’t just taking care of myself. I could throw my own life away—that was my right—but I couldn’t throw Remy’s away like this.

That wasn’t what good leaders did.

I’d already lost Tinker, and now Brock.

I wasn’t going to lose Remy as well.

“Behind the truck!” I screamed, pointing to a large box truck parked on the side of the road. “Take shelter!”

Remy didn’t move. He just kept shooting. “Not without you!” he shouted back.

I growled, but I’d already made up my mind. I wasn’t losing another friend.

I dove for the truck a split second before Remy did, my eyes on the large box and my feet running for the other side. It wouldn’t be perfect cover—no vehicle ever was—but it would give us enough to get us at least some protection from the bullets flying our way.

I wondered how close Devil and the bodyguard were to empty. I wondered how much they really wanted to stand in this street shooting at us.

I wanted them both dead just as badly as I wanted to take my next breath, and neither of them was going to be able to compete with that.

I ran behind the truck, and bullets stopped whizzing around us, but I took only a moment to make sure that Remy had followed and then rushed for the hood of the truck. I needed to be able to see Devil if I was going to shoot him. I crouched down next to the wheel on the passenger’s side and breathed out, trying to focus. I was probably only going to have one shot at this. Maybe two. I had to assume that Devil and Dion had also taken cover behind their own vehicle, though surely they’d be trying to protect it from bullet holes.

Maybe not at the cost of their own life.

I peeked up and over the hood of the truck, my eyes darting back and forth as I looked for Devil’s dark hair. Where the hell had he gone? He was a small guy, but not even he could hide in the open street.

Then I saw him, ducked down behind his expensive car, his eyes cold and hard. He wanted me dead, I realized. He’d always wanted me dead.

“Not today, Satan,” I muttered.

I stood up and started shooting, aiming directly for Devil’s head. The first shot took out one of the windows in an explosion of glass, and the second tore through the roof of the car. Devil popped up and shot at me, but I ducked in time to avoid the bullet and came up shooting again.

He jerked and flew backward, hand to his shoulder, and I realized I’d actually hit him. Not a kill shot, but a shot to the shoulder that might do the trick. If I’d hit an important artery or even somehow nicked a lung...

I hadn’t. He was up and running again, and he wouldn’t have been able to do that if I’d nicked a lung. But there was an awful lot of blood, and I remembered Mandy and Saraya treating Gemini’s shoulder when he was shot. They’d been very worried that he was going to bleed out, and Mandy had done an awful lot of stitching and patching before she declared him safe.

Devil would need those same things. And he didn’t have a Mandy. He also couldn’t go to the hospital. Not when everyone had just seen him involved in a shootout in front of the bank.