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Taking the upper-body holster, I slip it on and secure the strap across my midsection before taking my Desert Eagles from their place inside a drawer. There are a few magazines beside them, six to be exact, with nine bullets each, and I take those too.
I want them to hear each shot.
To see the gleam of polished silver as I empty a round into each body.
Once we’re outside the weaponry room, I close the door and when the click signals it shut, I turn and open my top desk drawer. Atop a stack of papers is my favorite knife and I grab it, too, before walking out.
Mariah is at her desk when we do, and she’s just as angry. Her eyes are cold, and no words are said as I walk up, kiss her forehead, and continue straight back and toward a door that no one uses here.
The private elevator will take me straight to my garage, opening the door mere steps from the car I keep on site. I open the door and enter, turning to look at my cousin who’s already on her way to make my office appear as if nothing has happened.
Our eyes meet and she gives me a nod which I return, then looks at her boyfriend for the same.
Today, their blood will cleanse the streets of Chicago.
“I didn’t know.” Marcelles greets me near the pier’s entrance with a serious look on his face. He’s holding his hands up, taking a step back as I tower over him. Friend or enemy, everyone around me runs the risk of my wrath at the moment.
Blackness—that dark manifestation of my soul is clawing its way out and wanting to play. For every second they have London, I’ll repay the world with my maelstrom of vengeance.
“Where is he?” My voice is cold, hand on the handle of the knife inside my pocket.
“Down below and not alone.” Beads of sweat form at his brow, and he wipes them away. “He’s with that officer you told me to look out for—”
“Bristol?”
“Yes.” His phone rings, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps his gaze on mine. “Marcus seems desperate, Malcolm, while the Lieutenant kept assuring him about some buyer. Those two are deep into some fucked-up shit, and I’ll take them out if you need me to. Just say the word, and it’s done.”
“These two are mine. They all are.” Agent or not, Shawn Hayes ran his luck and lost. There is no coming back from this.
“Understood. My loyalty has always been with you and our family, my career be damned.”
“I know.” And I do. Marcelles has been with us for years and has never betrayed that trust. He’s an honest man, a hard-working agent, but loyal to only those in his family. He’s my mother’s cousin and went to school with my father and Director Monahan.
All sides interconnect and watch out for the other.
He’s not a traitor. Neither is Monahan.
However, Shawn Hayes has proven to be more than a nuisance. He’s a danger to society.
A rogue.
“The press release will go out to all major networks in three hours. There will be a manhunt.”
“I’ll make every second count.” I turn and walk around toward the pathway below, when I pause and look at Javier. “Who’s watching them now if Marcelles is up here?”
“Michael. The kid wants to prove himself and atone for his sins.”
Three men now stand right where Marcelles said they would be, talking in hush tones and with hands thrown up in the air as they argue over something. They don’t see me or the others with me, and I use it to my advantage.
A moment to test one of my own.
Grabbing Michael by the collar of his shirt, I pull him beside me and hand over my gun. “How good of an aim do you have?”
He gives me a thumbs-up, mouthing good while taking my Eagle.
“Three men, and one is young,” I say while waving a hand in front of us. “Shoot the one to the left in the chest, and I’ll forgive you. Get a bullet in his head, and I’ll welcome you back with a forgiven debt. You have one bullet…make it count.”
We step back slowly, and he takes his stance. Michael raises his hands and aims with elbows in a locked position. His hand trembles a bit and he shakes his head to rid himself of the mounting nerves. The finger on the trigger twitches, but on his next breath he pulls, and Bristol falls to the ground.
