A Tempting Arrangement (Twisted Vows Book 1)

54. Damon

My eyesnever leave the black Chevy Impala with tinted windows and a dented back bumper as I trail it through the maze of warehouses in the industrial district. The moon casts an eerie glow over the rows of massive cranes that loom over the ocean, ready to unload hundreds of containers stacked six high on each ship.

The leather stitching on my steering wheel frays under my grip as I force myself to keep distance between us. The cover of night, compounded with my lights turned off, helps keep me out of sight. I’m just hoping whoever’s driving is a regular fucking person because anyone trained would have already spotted me.

The Impala pulls up to a large mechanical gate, guarded by two men fully loaded with assault gear. It screeches as it opens, allowing the one car in before closing again. But it’s the glowing sign plastered on the side of the warehouse that has my sanity coming apart. Ricci Technology.

“I’m going to kill that asshole,” I growl, fully prepared to crash through that fucking gate.

“We’re five minutes away. Fucking wait!” Matthias yells through the car speakers.

“I don’t give a shit. My wife is in there.”

“Well, we fucking do. You don’t have to do this alone. You saved us. Now let us help save your girl.”

I pull over several hundred feet back and tuck my car behind a shipping container.

“You better fucking hurry.”

“We’re three minutes out” is his only reply.

I scan the area, and there’s a constant stream of men walking behind the gate. I double-check my Glock’s magazine. The seventeen bullets won’t be enough. Matthias is right—I’m going to die the second I walk past those gates. Maybe that’s the entire fucking plan. I click the magazine back in place and get out of the borrowed car.

No, my Little Nymph’s getting out of here. I promised her I’d keep her safe, and I’ll die keeping that promise, but not like some asshole without a plan.

A black SUV pulls up behind me, and my brothers step out, their doors clicking quietly closed. All three of them are decked out in tactical gear.

Bash comes up to me and slaps me on the back. “Fucking asshole. You had me worried you’d steal all the fun.”

“Your sister is hurt in there, and you call this fucking fun?”

He stiffens, his eyes lowering before meeting mine. “Hurting anyone that hurts our family will always be fun. Now, let’s get you geared up.”

I grab my own set of clothes from the tailgate, stripping out of my Armani suit in preference for the black-on-black tactical gear.

My brothers surround me as Matthias pulls up the satellite feed.

“Fucking Christ,” Xander says under his breath, and I grab his shoulder.

“You don’t need to be here.”

He shrugs me off, completely ignoring me.

“Quite the welcome party.” Bash chuckles. “You think they’re expecting us?”

It’s worse than I thought. There are six men at the gate, another forty more walking patrols around the building. There are a few bright spots coming from the darker areas, signaling there are even more men hidden there. But it’s the two gunners on the roof that have the hair on the back of my neck standing up. These aren’t some rich pups dressed up, not with the kind of gear they’re packing. Somehow, the Ricci bastard put together his own mercenary army.

Bash whistles low under his breath. “Getting around those will be fucking tricky.”

Matthias starts handing out weapons from the back of the truck. Two silencers and a knife. We now have thirty-four rounds each, and I like those odds significantly better.

I check both guns over thoroughly before holstering them. Running all possibilities through my head, I pick the one we’re least likely to get killed in.

“We go over the walls and pick off the patrols one by one before they realize we’re here. The more dead men, the better odds we have of getting Misty out of there. There’s no way we’re taking down those gunners. Get close to the building out of their line of sight. Then we just need to worry about who’s left on the ground.”

Matthias puts his hand on Xander’s arm when he cocks his gun. “Even with the silencers, it’s too quiet out here to use the guns.” Matthias holds up his knife, glinting in the low light. “We’re doing this up close and personal for as long as we can. The second they see you, open fire.”

“Use the containers and crates as barriers.” I meet my brothers’ eyes. “Don’t get pinned between them and the gunners. Got it?”

Bash smirks at us. “Be quiet, up close and personal, kill as many as you can, and don’t get mowed down by machine guns. Yeah, I think we got it.”

Xander holsters his gun and grabs one of the extendable ladders. It’s compact, only one foot high when closed, but it’ll go up twenty feet. He tucks it under his arm. “I don’t understand how people don’t remember ladders fucking exist. Bash and I will take the left. You two take the right.”

“Wait.” Matthias hands each of us a microphone to tuck into our ears. “Keep the line clear unless you need help.”

“Yes, sir,” Bash says loudly into his mic.

We all wince, feedback screeching.

Bash grabs his ladder. “What? I was just testing it.”

I look at my brothers all geared up and ready to go against the worst odds fucking possible. “Don’t fucking die.”

“Aw, he does love us,” Bash says, leaning into Xander, who smiles as he pushes him off. “Let’s go fucking kill these bastards and get our sister back.”

Matthias sets up his ladder first and grabs my shoulder. “I know you want to get to your girl, but we need to level the numbers first. If you go in there now, you’ll have forty men up your ass with automatic weapons.”

“I wouldn’t leave you anyway. Never have.”

I step out of his grasp and head another twenty feet down before setting myself up. The cinder block walls, stacked fifteen feet high, provide the perfect cover. The silence is deafening as I crest the top, scanning the area. A slow smile pulls at my lips as a patrol steps directly below me. I’m going to enjoy this.

My knife’s in my hand when I drop down behind him, the force of the drop rattling through my bones. Before he can turn, I slice across his throat, warm liquid immediately covering my hand. The man looks back at me, rage turning to fear as he gurgles, drowning in his own blood.

I pull him close, whispering into his ear. “You picked the wrong family to fuck with.”

The wall casts a shadow perfect for hiding his body. There are steps coming from the right, and I duck behind a crate just in time for another patrol to show up. The dim light catches the raised scar on his face. This isn’t his first fight, but it doesn’t matter because he’s going down anyway.

I reach down, grabbing a broken piece of wood from the pallet, and toss it to the side, drawing his attention. By the time he realizes what’s happening, it’s too late. I grab his shoulder and jab my knife upward into his throat, severing the major arteries. He grabs my hips on his way down, ripping at my holsters with his nearly dead fingers. I don’t have time to get it back from him as three more men approach. I stalk around the crates, coming up behind them, taking them out one at a time.

My heart pounds in my chest as I look at the blood staining my hands and sleeves. I led my brothers into a fucking bloodbath.Even if we do walk out of here, what kind of damage will they be left with?

“Four motherfuckers.” Bash’s voice crackles through the mic.

Xander laughs. “That’s it? I’m at seven. The bastards are everywhere. Easy picking.”

A second later. “Eight and nine. You’re fucking slow.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Matthias says, then adds, “Fifteen.”

A smirk curls at my lips. They’ll be fine. Twisted, but fine. I cut a path through the patrols while my brothers one-up each other in kill count. We’re cutting down almost too easy.

Five shots in quick succession come from where Bash and Xander are, and I’m already running toward them before I’ve processed it.

“Bash. Bash!” Xander’s voice grows desperate, and I move faster, not even bothering to hide myself. We’d killed at least forty of the fifty men, thinning them out significantly.

“Fucking answer me.” Xander’s voice cracks. We’re all close, but the two of them have something special.

“Hold your fucking horses, man. I had to finish killing him. The bastard shot me in the fucking arm.”

Relief crashes through me, and I lean against the crates for support, sucking in breaths to try to regain some semblance of control. “Xander, get to Bash.”

“Already on my way.”

“Aw, were you worried about me?”

“Guns out, boys. Hide-and-seek is over,” Matthias cuts them off, punctuated by gunshots through the comms.

I reach for my gun and remember that scar face ripped them off just as large spotlights light up the entire area. Fuck. I shift around a crate, hiding myself from the gunners.

They open up fire at Xander and Bash, who I can now see clearly. They’re tucked behind a forklift now peppered with holes.

The second gun moves to the middle, right on top of Matthias. “Fuck, I’m pinned.”

There’s a ten-foot kill zone between me and the building. I grab the dead patrolman’s foot and pull him toward me, prying the gun from his tight fist. “I’m crossing it. Don’t fucking die.”

“I’ll cover you. On the count of three.”

Each count has my blood pounding harder. I’m coming, Misty.

Matthias opens fire, and I race toward the wall, wood cutting my exposed skin as the crates disintegrate under machine gun fire around me. A bullet just nicks my arm before I can press my back against the safety of the wall.

“Lucky bastard,” Bash says, his voice more strained than I want to hear. I need to hurry the fuck up. All three of them are pinned, and it won’t take long for men to round them.

I look over at Matthias as he pulls a rifle from a dead guard. Looking calm as ever, he calls over to me and gestures with his head to Xander and Bash. “Just get your fucking girl. I’ve got them.”

The steel warehouse door opens as I approach, three men rushing out of it. Their bodies collapse on top of each as I fire off rounds. The last one out is kind enough to prop the door open for me with his foot, and I climb over him into the open space.

“You finally made it. Took you long enough. I started to think I brought in too many men,” Anthony says from where he stands on the other side of the warehouse, Misty kneeling at his feet.

Her arms are a fucking mess, and her cheek’s bruised black. Anthony steps on a chain, and Misty jerks with the action. Rage burns my chest at the sight of her tied to the wall with a fucking metal collar like a dog. He’s going to fucking regret that.

I shoot the two guards surrounding Anthony with five perfect headshots before pointing it at him and pulling the trigger. The hollow click has dread filling my stomach.

“You’re so predictable. I’m almost disappointed. It’s so easy to catch the great Damon Everette.” Anthony points his gun at me.

Misty’s sob pulls my attention. Visible tremors shake her body, and tears flood down her cheeks. I try to fill my eyes with the words I can’t say. It’s okay. I’m getting you out.

“I will fucking kill you,” I promise him, rage burning through my veins.

“Will you though? You’re not armed. And you’re oh so easy to break.” Anthony shifts the gun from my head, and the loud crack of a bullet echoes in the room as he pulls the trigger.

The world goes quiet and compresses around me as her eyes widen with fear, but I can’t feel the pain from being shot. Something is screaming at the back of my brain, telling me to snap out of it, but I just look at her, wishing I could tell her, I’m sorry that I can’t keep my promise, but my brothers will get you out of here.

Misty’s green gaze meets mine, searching my face, eyes tracking back and forth as if she’s trying to imprint it into her mind.

I do the same, happy that the last thing I’ll see is her. Why are her cheeks so white? My chest tightens, the air so thick I can’t fill my lungs as Misty’s dress turns from green to a deep brown. A tremor rolls through her, and she falls forward and coughs. She mouths, “I love you.” Bright red liquid bubbles over her lips.

No. This can’t be happening. I run, catching her just before she collapses. Sound seeps back in, nearly deafening as reality pushes against me. My hands frantically search her body for the wound until they hover over the hole in her stomach. My hands shake as I press hard on it, desperately adding more fabric, but blood pools around my hand. I rip off my shirt, pushing it into the wound, and the already black fabric goes glossy.

Soft fingers cup my jaw and bring me back to piercing green eyes.

I cup her cheek and brush away the tears.

“You are not leaving me.”

Her lips lift slightly in the corner as she looks me over, her fingers trailing over the lines in my face.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me,” I command, but she doesn’t stop her touch, tracing every contour with less and less pressure.

“Misty.” Her head slips back, and I catch it in my palm, refusing to let her look away. “You are not leaving. Okay?”

She nods, tracing her thumb over my eyebrow, each of her breaths a soft rasp.

A gun cracks, and the burn of a bullet pierces my shoulder. I set Misty down softly. “Wait for me.”

Another bullet slices through my side, but I don’t leave her until she nods.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.”I stroke a red-stained strand of hair from her face, then get up.

My vision tunnels on Anthony, standing in front of me, feet wide. His gun jerks with shots, but all I can see is red. My nostrils flare, and my lips curl back as I charge him, the loud ringing of his gun and the tearing of my flesh barely registering to me.

I catch Anthony’s wrist, squeezing hard enough the delicate bones break beneath my grip, and tackle him to the ground, breaking his hold on the gun.

He cries out as all the blood drains from his face, and spit covers his lips as he speaks. “You should be dead.”

I smile, all sharp teeth and bad intentions. “There’s one thing you never considered, asshole. Men who are prepared to die are unpredictable.”

His eyes go wide when I grip the sides of his head, then bash the back into the ground. I’m losing mobility, my body’s turning to ice from loss of blood, but I’m going to kill the bastard.

I slam Anthony’s head over and over until the back crushes in and blood pours out of his mouth.

It’s the lack of sound that draws me back to Misty.

My stomach twists painfully as I rush back to her. She’s cold. So cold. “I’m here. I’m fucking here. Wake up, baby. Please, baby, wake up.” Her head rolls to the side, completely limp. “I’m so fucking sorry.” A sob racks through me as I shake her hard. “Don’t leave me.”

I try again, but my arms won’t listen, my body betraying me. I collapse beside her, staring at her lavender hair, covered in blood.

My brothers’ voices filter in, calling for help, pressing on my wounds. It’s too late. It’s too late. I don’t want to be saved.

I force my hand to move, brushing over Misty’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Little Nymph. I’m coming to find you. Even death can’t stop me.”