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“He got away?” I whisper, dropping my gun as Otto rises and pops off the last few men. “Why the fuck did you let him get away?” I yell, crawling to my feet and standing, watching his Bentley getting farther and farther away. “He needs to die.” And I need to be the one who kills him. I snatch Brad’s gun and stagger into the road, firing as I go, bullet after bullet, yelling as I do.
“The fuck, Danny?” Brad smacks the gun from my hand and gets up in my face, seething mad. “Do we all need to die too?”
I shove him away, and go back to my car, ready to go in pursuit. Fuck this shit. I am not going back to my wife until that rapist is dead.
I drop into the seat. And am quickly ejected, being hauled out and thrown to the ground. I look up at James.
Correction.
I look up at The Enigma.
And he looks far from at half strength. His finger comes up, his lips twisting. “Don’t make me kick your injured arse all over this freeway, Black,” he warns. “We deal with this another time. Like when we stand a fucking chance of coming out the other side alive. Now get in the fucking car.”
“You dick. I got in the fucking car. You just pulled me out of the fucking car.”
“Get in the fucking car!”
I do as I’m told.
Not because I’m scared.
But because he’s right.
And what fucking use are we to our women if we’re dead?
“You need to see Doc,” Goldie says as I drag myself up the steps.
I snort. “I need to see my wife.”
“You’re fucking bleeding all over the place.”
“No shit.” And the pain. Fuck me, the pain. “Where is she?”
“In your office.”
Beau comes flying out of the kitchen, her face like thunder, until she sees me virtually dragging myself along. “Shit, Danny.”
“I’m fine.”
“Someone get Doc,” she yells, running to the door. “For fuck’s sake!” She steps out, slipping her body under James’s arm as he struggles along. “I’m so fucking livid,” she seethes, giving me her eyes, making sure I know I’m on her shit list too.
I look down the corridor to the office. Then down my bloody body. “Fucking hell,” I wheeze, clenching my side as I limp there, feeling Brad two paces behind, ready to catch me when I collapse. I really fucked myself over this time. I won’t collapse. Not until I get to Rose. I take the handle, leaving blood all over the shiny knob, and push the door open.
She looks up from the couch. Takes me in. Swallows. She knew the outcome of this.
Except she doesn’t.
Getting up, she comes to me, taking in my broken body, the blood, the bullet holes. Her lip quivers. “Don’t cry, baby,” I say hoarsely, staggering forward a little, feeling a bit light-headed. She catches me and eases me down to the couch, feeling over my jacket and shirt, looking for the bullet holes. “Doc’s on his way,” I assure her.
She nods, slowly lifting her eyes to mine. “Is he dead?”
I stall. Swallow. Take a deep fucking breath and use my last piece of energy before I pass out. “Yeah.”
EPILOGUE
Miami — Five months later
JAMES
