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My jaw throbbed and I flexed it, figuring I was in just about the worst shape possible if I needed to defend myself. As far as planning death plots went, I sucked.
But I couldn’t wait any longer. Two years of planning, of waiting, of strategizing and I was sick of it. Though I might not get my shot tonight, I was damn well going to try.
Come what may.
I headed outside and circled around the back of the warehouse, intending to scope out where Z was parked. He drove a cherry red convertible Mustang, not exactly the most unobtrusive of vehicles. I figured he’d come out with his crew, I’d ask to speak to him, then take him out in my vehicle. We’d get out somewhere, away from any possible wire taps on my car or his, and if he didn’t act like a posturing dick, I might explain to him that getting gone would be to his advantage.
If he did act like a dick, my finger might slip on the trigger. Because I’d never forget how he’d smiled and laughed when he knew they’d already stashed Carly in the back of that VIP room and what lay ahead for her. For us.
I crouched between a Ford Explorer and a Jeep, hoping like hell I wouldn’t be stuck out here forever. I was so sore I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to make it back up to a standing position, so Z better not give me any fucking trouble. I’d drop him just because I was in a pissy mood.
The only consolation I had in any of this was that Carly was safe. Or she would be soon. Trusting Dante was a big leap of faith, but I had to believe in someone. Carly had nothing to do with the war between the organizations, so he had no reason to harm her.
I hoped.
Z and his associates came outside not twenty minutes later. I almost missed them in the steady flow of people out of the building, scattering like mice out of their holes. They were slower to disperse than they usually were at a lot of the fights, but that was probably because this one had generated a lot of press and a lot of money had changed hands tonight.
A lot of money had been lost, because I had.
And the fucker didn’t even want to go for two o
ut of three. Hell, why should he? Everyone would remember he’d won our last fight. That I’d put him in the hospital the first time would be a distant memory.
As Z approached, I crabwalked backward and emerged from behind the Jeep as if I was just heading past the vehicle.
“Gentlemen,” I said, all smiles. “Enjoy the fight?”
“I did.” Z returned my toothy smile, then gestured at his friends. “These two not so much, since they put money on you.”
My smile didn’t falter, but my right hand crept toward the small of my back. “That hurts me, Z. Here I thought we were friends.”
“Right.” He inclined his chin toward his car. “We’re heading out. Want to catch a ride, or would you rather be alone to lick your wounds?”
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you in private.”
He exchanged a glance with the two men with him. “I just bet you were.” Before I could analyze that statement, he gestured for his friends to take off. Once they’d jumped into a vehicle and peeled out of the lot, he flashed another smile at me. “Here, why don’t you drive my car? It’s a nice night, and you look like you could use a boost.”
Did he think I was a moron? If he’d figured out something was up and I got behind the wheel, he’d put a bullet behind my ear before I pulled out of the parking lot. Theoretically, he had no reason to suspect I’d been commissioned to take him out, other than the fact he was a dirty motherfucker and eventually, dirty motherfuckers got flushed.
Applies to you too, doesn’t it?
That didn’t mean I couldn’t let him think I was obliging him. He’d momentarily let down his guard, and I’d pin him against the car and use my gun to influence him to go for a ride with me.
It would be his choice whether that ride ended in bullets or a bus ticket out of town.
“That’s awful nice of you, Z.” I moved toward the Mustang. “I sure do appreciate the offer—”
Two gunshots, muffled by a silencer, split the air and I dropped to the ground out of reflex. Z fell to the concrete in front of me. His body jerked like he’d been zapped with electricity and fell still.
I was still staring into his eyes when the life bled away.
Swallowing hard, I tried to angle my bruised, battered body under his Mustang while I fumbled for my gun. Why the fuck hadn’t I put it in my pocket? I was reaching back for it when a rough hand closed around my arm and dragged me to my feet.
I swung out automatically, and the other man caught my fist.
Narrowing my eyes, I shoved him back with both hands. “Luke Fucking Moretti.”
“In the flesh, baby.” He slapped his Sig Sauer against his chest then slipped it into the side pocket of his vest.
