AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Had no fucking idea how many people were there, fucking me over. But I had a bullet for each of ‘em.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding, having the sudden urge to want to stay.
To, what? Keep letting someone fuck me over just so I could keep Hope in my house?
The fuck was that about?
I never let anything fuck with my business, let alone some chick.
“Alone?” she asked.
“What? You worried about me?” I asked, taking a step closer, giving her a smirk because that was absolutely concern that crossed her face before she tamped it back down.
“Only because I won’t get paid if you get killed,” she said, jerking her chin up at me.
It was just too damn tempting.
My hand rose, snagging that stubborn-ass chin of hers, then letting my thumb trace the underside of her lips, watching as her eyes went heated.
“Don’t worry, mama. I’ll come home to you.”
With that, I dropped her chin, and walked off past her.
Down the side yard, into my car, ignoring the calls from a few of my guys, wondering where I was going, if I needed someone to go with me.
They wouldn’t follow.
Not without orders.
Better they be left guessing.
I was leaving early on purpose.
If anyone was watching, they wouldn’t be suspicious because I was heading out an hour before the drop was supposed to come in.
I figured I had some time, to drive around, get my head on straight.
There was no planning for this type of shit.
There were too many variables, too many ways shit could go sideways. I couldn’t even check out the exact location ahead of time, in case whoever it was had cameras, or might be hanging around.
Shit like that was better handled off the cuff anyway. Always better to trust your instincts than trust some plan.
The problem was, the more I drove, the more my head was filling up instead of emptying out. And not about the major altercation I was likely about to have, either.
No.
About her.
About the heat I’d seen in those eyes of hers.
About how easily I knew she’d melt into me if I went back there and did all the things I’d been fantasizing about doing.
I needed to get a grip.
I could do those things.
And more.
Once I handled my little situation.
About an hour from midnight, I drove in the direction of the port. The smaller one around. Not the one run by the local mafia. Who the fuck needed that headache?
I parked far away, my SUV hidden behind a garage, then hoofed it the rest of the way.
It was the silence that hit me first.
I’d been to drops before. Mostly in the earlier days. And while they weren’t raves, there were usually voices. Men bullshitting, trying to pass the time.
The longer I stood there, the more anxious it made me.
When twenty minutes turned to an hour, and there were still no men, no voices, no signs of life at all, I knew it.
And I felt it.
In the prickling sensation on the back of my neck.
This wasn’t right.
I’d been set up.
That thought was followed by an even more alarming one.
I’d only been set up because someone else overheard the conversation, not me.
Hope.
I’d never really felt panic before, but there was no denying that was what the hand around my throat sensation was. The crushing feeling on my chest. The way my heart started hammering and my hands went slick enough that I damn near dropped my gun as I ran back toward my car.
Hope.
“Fuck,” I growled, tossing the gun into the cup holder as I turned over the car, then peeled out of my hiding spot.
She wasn’t alone.
She had a full guard around that house.
Except, of course, if they were in on it.
All of them.
Maybe that was why I couldn’t suss out who it was. Because it was the entire fucking organization.
A coup.
It wouldn’t be unheard of.
Hell, I’d led one myself.
Maybe I’d been naive to think that because I was a good boss, because I treated my men well, because I compensated them what they were worth, that no one would want to fuck me over.
Forgetting, of course, that it was human nature to want more, want everything. Especially when it was close, when you figured all you had to do was reach out and take it.
Their mistake, though, was thinking I would let them. That I would be stupid. That I wouldn’t track down each and every motherfucker who meant to try to take what I’d worked so hard for.
Another mistake, it seemed, though, was them involving Hope.
Because the fucking rage that burned through me as I flew across town, not having a fucking clue if she was alright, made it clear that when I tracked down this fuck, I was going to string them up, then start hacking parts off of them slowly. Until the floor, the walls, and my entire body was painted in a fresh coat of his—or their—blood.
