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“Then we don’t need to introduce ourselves.” Squealer laughs, coming up from behind me. “Don’t piss your pants, Chica, you get to live. Everyone here gets to live. We just want to adjust the way you operate things a little.”
“This one’s out,” Brax says from across the room. Standing up from the slumped body on the floor, he draws his bloody hand under his nose and leaves behind a slimy red smear.
“Thought you said we weren’t killing anyone,” Thorne says, not looking away from the kitchen cupboards that he’s ripping apart in an attempt to find the stash.
“He ain’t dead, but he’s gonna hurt in the morning,” Brax digs his boot into the body on the ground, so it lets out a weak moan and confirms what he said.
“Help me out, Squeal, check the bedrooms,” Thorne calls out.
“I got him,” I tell Squealer, pressing the heel of my boot into the rat’s windpipe and keeping him in place while I pat him down for a weapon.
He ain’t carrying, which only proves how much of an amateur he really is.
“Clear,” I call out.
“Same over here.” I look over my shoulder to where Tac’s easing his grip on the one he’s holding.
“We’re missing one,” I point out, looking around the room. Brax said three, but that was before Kenny arrived, and right now, I’m only seeing three men.
“No, we're not.” My brother’s voice comes from one of the bedrooms, and I expect him to come out dragging one of the weasels by his scruff. What I don’t expect is for him to come out of the bedroom holding his hands behind his head, with a nervous glint in his eyes.
There’s someone behind him. Whoever it is ain’t got any size on my brother because I can’t see them as he shuffles further out. I wonder how the fuck they are managing to detain him until I catch a glimpse of black metal in the reflection of the mirror on the opposite side of the room.
“Whoa, cool it, kid, no one wants to get hurt.” Brax holds out his hands in an attempt to keep everyone calm. And when I look down at Kenny, his fear has turned to smugness.
I make sure I apply enough pressure with my foot to make him choke.
“We’ve all got guns,” Brax reaches behind him and pulls out his own, holding it up in the air before he crouches down and places it on the floor.
It ain’t like him to be submissive, which makes the situation seem much more fucking serious. “We didn’t come here to use them. We just came here to take what’s ours now. Dirty Souls have claimed Pueblo. Don’t turn this into a shoot-out. You're outnumbered, we got two more guys outside,” Brax points out.
“Shoot him, Danato,” Kenny orders, and I turn out his lights with a single blow to his head so I can focus all my attention back on my brother and the gun he’s got pointed at his fucking head.
Squeal looks scared, almost as scared as he did when he was locked up in a jail cell, worrying about Alex being put away for murder.
It doesn’t just put a lump in my throat–it feels like I’m swallowing a fucking dagger.
“Let him go, and we’ll talk,” Brax tries to compromise.
A small cry comes from the room they came from, one that sounds female.
“Disarm,” Brax calls out immediately. It’s a mandatory club rule that we don’t harm women or kids. We’ve done a lot of things and taken many lives, but not even the worst of us could live with that.
Tac throws his gun away, followed by Thorne. “Nobody shoot,” Brax calls out extra loud for Storm and Grimm, who are still outside.
“You got someone in there?” Brax asks, turning his voice more friendly. My brother tucks the thumb of his left hand away. It’s not a coincidence–it’s a signal.
Four.
“You’re Brax, right?” The person whose face I can’t see asks. If Brax is surprised that he knows his name, he doesn’t show it. “I know you because my uncle keeps a picture of you in his office, with a dagger between your eyes.” Brax does nothing to hide his smirk, which makes me fucking rage because now ain’t the time.
“He does, does he?”
“Yeah, and you know who else he’s got a picture of?” the person holding the gun to Squealer’s head taunts.
“No idea,” Brax admits, shaking his head and seeming unbothered.
“That pretty little bitch of yours,” the voice reveals, and I watch every muscle in Brax’s body tighten. “I forget her name, Faith, Hope. Ah, yeah, Grace. That’s right, Grace. His men often talk about the things they’d like to do to her.”
