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I’d been here three fucking times, and this wasn’t a damn courtesy call.
Bishop’s orders were clear this time around—he wanted what he was owed, or he wanted a fucking body.
Adrian’s eyes grew wider, his cigarette hanging limp from his fingers. His other hand scrubbed over his gaunt-looking face, his cheeks pulled in, his eyes sunken into the sockets like he hadn’t slept for weeks. His body trembled, and his nails scratching at his face made my skin crawl.
I wanted to get the hell out of here.
I was done coming down to this nasty piece-of-shit apartment.
“Hawk, man, I can’t… I don’t… you know me, you know I’m good for it… if you just give me a few days.”
He was right. I knew him far too well.
And the people he kept fucking over were sick and tired of his drug-addicted ass. He was bad for business and, honestly, just a waste of air. “I’ll give you five seconds,” I told him with a shrug.
“Hawk—”
“Five.”
His head was shaking back and forth, his long, matted hair flopping around frantically. “I can give you something else. My car? My uh… my…” He had fucking nothing because he had already sold everything he owned to get his last fix.
“Four.”
“My girlfriend,” he announced, pointing his dirty piece of shit finger toward the door. “She’ll… she will be right back. She’s just gone out to get food. You can take her. She’s cute. Pretty.”
“One,” I hissed, lifting my weapon and only pausing to aim for less than a second before I squeezed the trigger. Over and over. Emptying the entire clip. His body jerked with every silent blow, stumbling backward and slamming against the wall behind him.
Shaking my head, I twisted off the silencer as he coughed and spluttered, his body sinking to the floor as it convulsed.
“Who taught you how to count?” Drew teased as he and Blue stepped around me, moving down the short hall of the tiny apartment to make sure there were no loose ends left lying around. “You forgot three and two.”
“Itchy trigger finger,” I drawled, trying to ignore the tightness in my shoulders. “Uncontrollable twitch.”
“You should get that checked.”
“I’ll make a fucking note.”
Blue paused at the end of the hall and turned to look over his shoulder at me. “It was the mention of the girl, right?”
My lip curled in disgust as I looked down at the piece of shit, his blood decorating the dirty cream-colored carpet, if anything, making this hell hole look a little better. I refused to acknowledge it, but Drew was right, it was the mention of him trading his girlfriend to get himself out of the goddamn hole he’d dug for himself.
He was willing to sacrifice others so he would get to live.
Willing to throw someone he was meant to love under the bus for his own benefit.
Just like they did in The Valley.
I didn’t have time for cockroaches like him.
And I wasn’t about to give him a place on earth to do that kind of shit.
Yeah, I was fucked up.
I’d been through hell, and I had fucking problems—that was no joke—but I owned my shit. Who I was, the life I lived, the choices I made, I owned it all.
“Everything good?” I asked, standing a little taller and raising my brow at Blue as he finished scanning the house, making sure there was nothing left, nothing of ours, nothing to indicate our involvement.
Not that the police would come looking.
