All eyes went to Slash and Sway.
And no one was watching Crow.
Big mistake.
Because the quick bastard charged forward, grabbing the leader in a chokehold with one arm.
The other was cocked up the man’s chest.
So his finger could stab into the bastard’s eye.
For a split second, I thought it was just a fear tactic.
But when the man started howling, my gaze lifted to find Crow plucking the bastard’s eye out.
Unprepared, I jerked back from the unexpected brutality from a man who’d otherwise been chill, laid-back, and calm.
There was no time to think, though, because Sway had gone into one of the bags, pulling out one of the assault rifles, and was aiming it at the crew.
“Toss your guns, assholes,” he demanded in a deceptively calm voice.
The crew’s eyes went between the composed Sway to their howling leader.
There was hardly a pause before guns went toward us.
“Behind me,” Slash demanded as he started walking toward the door, gun drawn, pausing to look outside to make sure there were no other crew members lying in wait.
Seeing none, he moved out.
Still holding the cash, I followed.
He made short work of tossing the bags the two of us were holding into the trunk, but leaving it open for Sway who was still standing in the doorway of the building.
I had no fucking idea what Crow was doing to the leader, but his cries from his eye had gotten lower, but as soon as Slash and I were outside, something must have happened, because he started screaming.
“Stop fucking around, Crow,” Slash barked, climbing on his bike.
A couple seconds later, a bloody Crow was coming out, still flicking his pocketknife shut, as he went to his bike.
“Sway,” Slash barked, sitting on his bike, holding his gun.
With that, Sway rushed backward, tossing his bag and his gun in the trunk, slamming it, then climbing in the SUV.
When Slash and Crow peeled off, I followed suit, hearing Sway take the back.
We pushed but made sure we didn’t break the speed limits until we were back in Vegas.
Slash didn’t lead us right back to the hotel, though. We pulled in the back of a gas station with a separate bathroom away from the pumps.
“Do I even want to know what you did?” Slash asked as he looked at the blood on Crow.
“Plausible deniability,” Crow said, shrugging.
“You don’t want to know,” Sway declared, shaking his head as Crow went into the trunk of the car, finding an old, crumpled tee on the floor, and taking it with him into the bathroom to clean up.
“What now?” I asked Slash as he leaned back against the SUV, letting out a deep breath.
“Now nothing. We head back home with the guns and the cash. Try to find another buyer.”
“Right now?” Sway asked.
“Nah. We paid for the night. We’ll stay. Leave first thing in the morning.”
He didn’t say it, but I got the feeling that he wanted one more night with Nyx. Because, apparently, it was over when they both got back home or some shit.
And, well, that worked for me.
Because despite getting kicked out of her room the night before, I had every plan to get another taste of Delaney before we headed home and I had to start worrying about her brothers.
Not that they would stop me, if I were being honest.
If Delaney decided she wanted me to fucking sneak in her window at night for a quick fuck, I was pretty sure I’d risk it.
Why?
Yeah, that was the question.
Instead of actually trying to suss that shit out, I was going to just go ahead and say that the woman had some Prime USDA pussy.
And leave it at that.
Anything else made no fucking sense.
“You don’t think we need to worry about them looking for us?” I asked.
“Not sure the leader is going to be looking for anyone for a while,” Crow said, coming back out with all the blood washed away.
“And I think the crew is traumatized,” Sway added, shaking his head.
“Anyone want a drink?” Crow asked, ignoring that comment, and starting to walk toward the small booth near the pumps.
When no one responded, he walked away, calm as could be.
Like he hadn’t just pulled someone’s eyeball out. And likely worse.
“Crow is who you want by your side in a fight,” Slash explained. “So long as you can stomach the way that fucker goes at a target,” he added.
My gaze slid over toward Crow who was having a friendly conversation with the attendant as he pulled out cash to pay. You’d never know by looking at him that he’d just partially blinded a man, that he’d done worse.
Someone who turned it on and off like that, and almost seemed to get a sick sort of enjoyment out of the whole thing, that was a dangerous fucking person.
Sure, I’d done damage. I’d taken lives.
But it had always been my job. I did it because it needed to be done. Not because I got any sort of enjoyment out of it.