“What has Black promised you?” I ask, peeking out the corner of my eye to the tip of the gun.
He says nothing, but he smiles wider, and it’s all I can do to stop myself cutting it off his face.
“Tell me,” I order, turning my death stare from the gun to his comfortable, relaxed body on the table. He shouldn’t look so chilled. “What have you promised him?”
“Something he won’t get.” He rises and starts to pace the room, casually. Stupid fuck.
“Maybe I have something you will want to keep,” I reply coolly, my face remaining impassive when he looks at me. I hold my hands up and slowly reach for my hoodie, pulling the hem up to reveal the waistband of my joggers. Naturally, my move makes his goon stiffen, thrusting his gun forward in threat. “Easy,” I say quietly, slowly pulling something out and holding it up.
He looks at the picture, his lip twitching, ready to curl. “Shannon’s safe,” he says, dismissing me.
“You sure?” I look across the container to an old cupboard in the corner, prompting both men to look too. It’s the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Time to strike.
I swing my leg, taking out the guy that’s holding me in place with his gun, his body crashing to the floor with the lack of his legs holding him up. I rise, grab the chair, and launch it across the container at The Bear, before giving the man on the floor a swift kick in the gut and a stamp on his head, knocking him out. I swing around, catching the fucker gaining his balance, his arm lifting with the gun. Fuck. I wedge my palms into the edge of the table and run, sliding it across the floor and slamming it into him.
“Fuck,” he yelps, losing his grip of the gun, his torso folding over the table. I dive across the metal top and grab the gun, aiming it at him as I get off and back up.
“Oh, how the tables have turned,” I whisper, smirking at his leering face. “You should have brought a lot more men.”
“Fuck you,” he breathes, shoving the table away from his thighs.
I hear a few noises from outside the container. “Oh, you did bring more men,” I say, reaching for the cupboard door. He clearly thought Black was more of a danger than I am. I don’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.
Wait, I do.
I’m insulted. Plain insulted.
I pull the cupboard door open, revealing the blonde who Danny followed back into town from his father’s grave, bound and gagged. “Now let’s talk business.” I yank her out and get her in front of me, relishing the disbelief on The Bear’s face. “Your phone,” I say, nodding to the table.
He keeps his eyes on me as he reaches into his pocket. But he doesn’t pull out a phone. He pulls out a tidy little handgun and aims our way. Not gonna lie, I’m astounded. And when he pulls the trigger and her body jerks, my surprise turns into shock. Fuck.
She crumples to the ground, leaving me without a shield, the gun now aimed at me. Well, this is a twist I didn’t anticipate. “She was a money-grabbing whore,” he says, stepping forward. “And now I believe the tables really have turned.” He pulls the trigger, and my body jerks, sending me slamming into the wall behind me on a hiss. My shoulder immediately aches. “Take a seat, Jam . . . Eni . . . now.” He laughs. “Really, I just don’t know what to call you.”
“I know what to call you,” I grate.
“What’s that?”
“Dead.” I lunge at him.
Bang!
And fly back on a grunt, the bullet hitting me square in my chest.
32
DANNY
* * *
Bang!
I flinch, watching as Beau fights and struggles in Goldie’s arms, swearing, cursing, screaming, calling me every name under the sun. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
She only stills and quietens down when the sound of a metal sliding lock sounds. I hold my breath, as everyone’s attention moves to the green container. It’s not James who emerges.
I swallow as the twisted fuck who’s played us all strides across the gravel with confidence, but I notice he has a small limp. “I’ll let you do the honors.” He smiles, tossing me the trigger button carelessly. If I would have placed my bets, and I did, I would never have expected James to lose this fight.
“Perry?” Rose gasps.
“No!” Beau shouts, starting to fight again, prompting Otto to move in to help Goldie restrain her. “What are you doing?”
“What the fuck is going on, Danny?” Otto asks.
I look at my wife. Her hands are over her mouth, her eyes welling. I look at Brad. He looks as grave as I feel. But my options are limited. I swallow, casting my eyes over Beau’s flailing, screaming form, holding up the trigger. “We walk away,” I say to Perry calmly, and he nods.