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He strode into the main room, taking in every detail. How many? Who had weapons, who was the biggest threat? Another man dressed as a guard sat along the far wall. He was laughing until he saw Harry. He got to his feet just as Harry shot him in the head.
Hull stood to Harry’s right, Gibson to his left, and Asher was tied to a chair, his head lolled forward.
Gibson wasn’t armed. He had his shirt off like punching the shit out of a man that was tied to a chair while not wearing a shirt made him more manly.
Hull, on the other hand,wasarmed. He had a pistol in a shoulder holster. Which was fucking stupid. Harry should have shot him for that alone...
Actually, that’s a good idea.
Harry shot Hull in the head.
He fell backwards with a dead weight thump and Gibson took a large step back. “Harry! What the...?”
“You shut your fucking mouth,” Harry said, pointing his gun at him. He put a hand on Asher’s shoulder. “Asher, you okay?”
Asher moaned and a long strand of bloody drool fell from his face to his thigh.
While Harry was momentarily distracted, Gibson took a step to the left. Harry shot him in the knee and he fell to the ground, screaming.
Harry lifted Asher’s face so he could see him better. One eye was already swollen shut, the other not far from it. He had cuts on his cheeks, his lip. The side of his jaw was already swollen and bruised.Jesus fucking Christ.
Gibson was now clutching his leg and doing that hiss-breathing, complete with froth and spittle. “You fucking shot me!”
Harry stared at him. “And I’m going to do it again.” He undid Asher’s hands, seeing his knuckles and arms were bruised as well. Defensive marks? Harry was eerily calm, long past angry. There wasn’t a name for the emotion he felt right then. Nuclear fucking rage didn’t quite cut it.
He put another gentle hand on Asher’s shoulder, unsure of where he might be injured. “You okay?”
Asher lifted his bruised and bloodied face and tried to smile, lips split and swollen. “Peachy.”
Gibson was now trying to scoot backwards, Harry realised, to the wall where a bag was with his handgun on top. It was pitiful to watch. Soooo Harry shot him in the other knee. Gibson howled and his hands shook violently as he held his leg and tried to breathe through the pain.
“The first bullet was for killing that fisherman in Gibraltar,” Harry said. “The second was for being on Parrish’s side. How much money does he give you to betray your country? What was your price for treason?”
Gibson shook his head but he was indignant and arrogant to the end. He snarled, pale now, spittle on his lips as he spoke. “Fuck you.”
Using his head like a soccer ball, Harry kicked him in the face, kicking hard enough that it broke most of his front teeth and probably his nose. It put him flat on his back anyway. He coughed and spat blood, groaning, rolling onto his side.
Harry leaned over him. “Christ, Gibson, you’re so bad at this. Theeliteteam you put together for whatever the fuck this was supposed to be was a joke. They’re all very dead, and I’m going to make it look like you did it. Your government will disown you. They won’t even claim your worthless fucking corpse.”
Still crouching over Gibson, Harry pointed to Asher. “Look at him, what you did to my man. You had no beef with Asher. You wanted me but weren’t good enough to take me on because you’re a piece of shit fucking coward. So, your punishment for what you’ve done to him. Shall we get started? Remember those drills we’d run back in training, to see how much we could endure? You’re going to want to compartmentalise the pain. Separate the mental from the physical.”
Gibson groaned again and spat a bloody broken tooth at Harry. It was pathetic. Harry laughed and stood up. “You’re not even fucking worth it.” He aimed his gun at Gibson’s mangled face and pulled the trigger.
“Harry?” Asher murmured.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, going to him and kneeling.
“Can’t see.”
His eyes were so swollen, it made Harry want to shoot Gibson again. “It’s over now. I’m getting you out of here,” Harry said. “Just gimme one sec.”
Harry put his own gun in Hull’s hand, took Hull’s stupid pistol from his stupid holster and fired a quick two rounds into Hull’s head again. He gave it a quick wipe then put that gun in Gibson’s hand. Would it be enough to confuse the cops or a medical examiner? Not if they looked too hard. Not when they tested Hull and Gibson’s guns and found the weapon that killed the fisherman in Gibraltar. Harry hoped that’d be the end of how hard they looked.
“We need to leave,” Harry said. “Can you walk?”
Asher was shaky getting to his bare feet, clutching his ribs with one hand, holding his other out to Harry.
Harry went to him, holding him up. “God, what did they do to you?”
