Page 54 of Harbor

“Not fucking enough for this.”

Yeah, Renzo figured.

Not that it mattered now, right? It was said and done. Tuck did what he did, and now Renzo was here to deal with it. He bet his old friend had hoped Renzo wouldn’t figure it out, and if he did at some point, then he would be long gone. There would be no chance of him coming back here for retribution.

Fuck that.

Renzo was here.

He was getting his.

The sound of shoes on hardwood had quieted, making Renzo tense against the wall. He couldn’t let Tuck come in on him around the corner—that would give the fucker the upper hand in a way. Tuck probably thought Renzo was going to be easy to take care of, but he had news for him.

Renzo always came swinging.

If he went down, he’d go down swinging, too.

Maybe that was the problem, though. Renzo, stuck in the haze of his rage at being betrayed by someone he considered a friend of sorts, wasn’t really thinking clearly. All he wanted to do in those moments was hurt Tuck—end his useless fucking life—for putting Renzo in a situation where the things he loved the most might be taken away from him. Instead of considering every move carefully, like he usually would, he reacted in anger.

That was his mistake.

He didn’t fully realize that until he came around the corner with his gun aimed only to see Tuck already there waiting, and swinging a bat his way.

Renzo barely ducked the first swing, and in order to get out of the way, he rammed himself into the goddamn wall. The second swing of the bat hit his wrist, sending the gun flying down the hall out of his hand and reach.

“Fuck,” Renzo snarled.

The pain reverberated in his bones.

“Gave you a chance, didn’t I?” Tuck said, a laugh edging along with his words. “You should have just gone, Ren. Left like I told you to.”

Yeah, fuck the pain.

Renzo’s adrenaline kicked in, but maybe that was self-preservation, too. Either one would work, he figured. As long as it did the damn job. Tuck was swinging that bat back to hit Renzo again, this time aiming for his head, but he was quicker. His left elbow came up fast, cracked Tuck right under his jaw, sending his head snapping back hard, before Renzo pulled back, and punched him square in the mouth. Tuck’s teeth cut his knuckles.

More blood spewed.

This time, Renzo wasn’t sure if the blood came from his split, aching knuckles, or Tuck’s mouth. He didn’t really give a fuck, either. He just wanted to get the man down. For good, too.

“Didn’t have to fucking sell us out,” Renzo snarled, going in for a second round.

His fists snapped one after the other against Tuck’s face, knocking the man to the floor. That didn’t mean Tuck went down easy because he didn’t. Not at all. Pain bloomed in Renzo’s mouth when Tuck landed a good punch, and then his ears rang when another hit his temple. Oh, he felt it, sure, but it was still just a whisper in the back of his mind where the rage was still screaming. He’d never wanted to beat someone to death like he did for Tuck.

Renzo forgot about that goddamn bat, though. At some point in their struggle, it had slipped from Tuck’s hand and fell to the floor. Not far enough away, apparently. Tuck managed to grab the tapered end of the handle, and swing it hard enough to make it feel like it cracked Renzo’s skull when it landed against the side of his head.

The force knocked him sideways into the wall. It was just those brief, two seconds where Renzo’s gaze tunneled, and he couldn’t see straight that Tuck got the upper hand. Just a moment of him fucking up and Renzo found himself on his back with Tuck on top of him. Tuck shoved that bat hard against Renzo’s throat, holding firm and taking away his air as he put all of his weight down into it.

He couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t see right.

Couldn’t fucking think.

Renzo’s mind screamed for him to move, to figure a way out of this one, to get back to having the upper hand again … anything. He had to figure out something, for fuck’s sake.

POP.

The crack of a gun firing accompanied Renzo’s sudden ability to breathe again. He sucked in a painful breath as Tuck fell away from him. Renzo’s vision cleared in just enough time for him to see the bullet wound in the middle of Tuck’s forehead, blood dribbling a single, small trail down his nose before the guy’s body face-planted right into the carpeted hallway.