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And I’m still trying to figure out why I didn’t retaliate after the first shot ran out.
I can’t say that we didn’t see this coming.
In fact, I planned on it, hence the handful of men that were stashed in the back on the other side of the wooden french doors that were ready to burst in at any sight of trouble.
Yet, I ran after her the moment I saw the red dress stumble and flee from the dining room.
I had the perfect shot. Haven was all lined up for me to put lead into the back of her head, but I didn’t bother to lift my Glock and aim.
Instead, that’s what she did, and I can’t help but notice how surprised I am. When she told my father about her so-called hobby of guns, I practically snorted. Yet, she unloaded without flinching, so perhaps I underestimated this woman’s abilities.
Which meant she might be more trouble for me than I anticipated.
“Let me go!” she screams desperately, yanking back on her arm to get free, which I gladly give her.
She’s not going anywhere, and now that I have her, she’s definitely going to be answering some questions for me.
Yet, again, she surprises me when her fist rams into my jaw and clocks my head to the side, actually causing my temper to slowly rise.
I like getting hit. I love blood and fists flying in tandem, but with what just went down in the dining room and Arlo being down, I don’t know what else awaits me. And I don’t have the time to keep Haven on the floor and wait it out.
“Sir, do you want us to take the girl?” I don’t have to look up to locate Jamie’s voice, and I immediately nod.
Rising to my feet, Haven tries to follow suit to, I don’t know, size up on me. She’s more than a few inches shorter than me, but the fire in her lucid green eyes only ignites the feeling that I want to snub it out.
Her long red hair is a mess on top of her head, but her perfectly made curls still drape over her shoulders.
Some might call her beautiful. Kohen did.
He also told me to use her to my advantage and fuck her into submission so that she softens for me.
I didn’t think that would ever be a problem because she barely looked at me for more than five seconds, but something flipped a switch in her tonight.
Haven opens her mouth to spill out whatever it is she suddenly has on her mind, but Jamie and Tomas seize her up by both triceps and begin dragging her down the hall.
“Wait!” she hollers out, still struggling with no real means of getting free. Jamie and Tomas are linebackers. Her little body isn’t going anywhere. “Let me go!”
Turning my back on her, the gunshots have completely stopped, which instantly irritates me. I missed laying out some Kincaid bodies on my mother’s dining room floor, and unfortunately, I may never get the chance to do that again without her scolding me.
Inside the space lies what I expected. Bodies on top of bodies as I scan the area for Cillian Kincaid.
The motherfucker annoys me.
And, because he makes me feel that way, he was my full scope tonight when I began returning fire after the first shot ran out.
I notice Miles, one of our men with lead in his skull, dead. Desmond with a wound to his thigh as a few men gather around him. But no sign of Arlo, which means he got rushed back for medical help.
And no Cillian Kincaid.
My nostrils flare a bit because, once again, he escapes, and it’s amazing how the little prick can skate through under gunfire and still breathe to tell the tale.
Striding through the throng of lifeless bodies, I check each one of ours to see if anyone is still actively breathing when I stumble upon Patrick Kincaid.
Haven’s father.
The white dress shirt underneath his black suit is soaked in crimson with several holes accompanying them. His green eyes are wide open in sheer shock that he was mortal after all.
Good riddance.
