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“God damn it,” I groan and shove his lifeless body off of me. I stand on solid ground and scan the vicinity, my eyes straining to see through the thick fog still filling the dark space. “Where the fuck…” I spot a body near the exploded truck writhing in pain. I put a bullet in his head for safe measure and continue on.
That’s a confirmed two out of five.
I go around the front of our van and shoot the other guy who was hit by the explosion. He wasn’t even moving but one can never be too sure. Half his face was missing, and I’m fairly certain part of the door was impaled in his chest, but crazier things have happened, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
Three out of five down.
I pause, listen, and try to locate the rest of the party. Commotion carries from deeper inside the empty warehouse, and I follow it like a dog with a fucking bone. Dom has taken on more than two guys at one time, in a non-sexual way, and it’s not like he was shot in the damn arm. He’s probably faring well, taking his sweet ol’ time inflicting the kind of torment that only Dom is capable of. Still, I go after him anyway. Might as well have a little fun myself.
Gripping the tourniquet around my arm with my teeth, I tug it and try my best to tighten it back up from my romp with that guy with the hard head. I climb up a metal flight of stairs toward the noise, my hand leaving a bloody print in its wake. I'm going to need a bottle of Aspirin and bourbon when I get home if I stand any chance of relief. My ribs ache, and upon further inspection, there's blood coming from the back of my head, too.
How am I going to explain any of this to June?
Oh hey, J, don’t mind all the blood, just a little occupational hazard. No big deal. The bullet? Yeah, it’s probably still in my arm, it’s fine. Totally fine. Just a normal Monday at the office.
Or is it Tuesday? Or Wednesday? Hell, I don't fucking know what day it is anymore. They all blur together. No weekends or nights off. Just one constant shitstorm of problems to solve and people to kill.
By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I’m winded.
Two men have Dom cornered, their fists landing punches every chance they get. One of them spins and kicks him in the ribs. Dom grunts but remains firmly rooted in place, giving back as many blows as he’s receiving. He slams his elbow across one guy’s face and the guy stumbles a few feet.
“Down,” I yell. I pull the trigger of the gun and take down one of the men
That makes four.
Is Dom fucking going soft on me or is he hellbent on dying today?
I’m a murderous lunatic but usually he matches or at least gets close to the same number of kills.
While still crouched from my command, Dom reaches for the pistol near him but the last remaining guy kicks it away from him. They both leap toward it, scrambling to be the one to clasp onto it and end the other one’s life. Dom punches the guy across the face and blood and teeth splatter about.
I search for a clear shot, but none comes. I move closer, but I’m not fast enough.
The man dives at the gun and latches onto it, spinning on his back and pointing it up at Dominic.
“No, don’t!” Dominic shouts.
I aim, shooting without a second thought, my bullet hitting the man at the same time his hits Dom square in the chest.
That makes six men down.
I rush over to Dom and attempt to soften his fall to the concrete, but with my own injuries, I’m not as strong as I once was.
Speckled red from head to toe, Dom clutches at his chest. "Fuck," he mutters, looking down at where he was shot. He fingers the hole in his suit and yanks out the smashed bullet. "He ruined a perfectly good suit."
“I fucking told you these vests would come in handy.” I shake him and grin.
Dom exhales and turns toward the dead guy next to him. “We needed one of them alive.”
“That’s why you were pussy footing around up here?” I release him and stumble onto my ass, glancing at the blood-soaked wrap around my arm. “It’s better than being dead, dude. Imagine having to explain that one to J.”
Dom rakes his hand through his hair. “At least we’ve got the bodies and their vehicles to search. Better than nothing.”
My head grows fuzzy. "Yeah, for sure." I lean all the way back and look up at the ceiling. "I'm just going to…"
But instead of finishing my sentence, I pass the fuck out.
15
