Chapter Forty-Three Blake
Chapter Forty-Three
Blake
The other guys were guards, and as soon as they entered the warehouse, they fanned out.
Two went to one side, and the other two took up position by the door.
West and Walden were eyeing my housemates before looking at where I stood.
They saw Spence’s two guards, and all of them had a reaction. Disgust. Walden rolled his eyes.
Spence stepped forward. “I take it that you’re acquainted with my brothers.”
Brothers?
West’s and Walden’s heads pivoted our way, and I saw the surprise there for a split second before both saw me.
And they stayed on me. A chill went through me at the cruel and cold smile that was pulling at Walden’s mouth.
“Please tell me you’ve brought us this gift.
Please, please. I don’t even give a fuck about who else you are, just as long as you tell me that Miss Green is here for us.
” His leer told me all the nasty ways he wanted to make me scream in pain.
West wasn’t as fazed. His eyes narrowed on Spence. “You’re a Worthing?”
Spence let out an aggrieved sigh. Very dramatic. “Finally. Someone fucking gets it. Yes. I’m a Worthing.”
West took in Spence’s two guards, who I guess were actually his brothers?
Brother guards? Just brothers? Both were big, muscly, and didn’t look super smart.
Thick necks. I was stereotyping guys with thick necks.
John Cena was smart, so not all guys with thick necks were stupid, but these two guys looked like morons.
There was no articulate way to explain the look. Just, moron.
“Wha—huh?” It was one of the brothers, though both seemed taken aback.
The one with dark hair was flabbergasted.
They swung their gazes on Spence at the same time, who gave each a resigned look.
His shoulders slumped. “Tobias Worthing got my mom pregnant, and forced her to give me up. I wasn’t in the system.
I was raised by my mom’s neighbor. I thought I was one of hers until my own high school DNA test gave me a surprise.
Nice little things, aren’t they?” He bit out, glancing my way.
“Identifying all of these little Worthings running around.”
The two guys continued to stare at him. The dark-haired one’s mouth hung open. “You’re our brother?”
“Dude. Dad had an affair.” The other nudged him with his elbow.
“Your father was Toby Worthing?” Tristian West had come closer.
Spence rubbed at his forehead, but made a show of focusing on West. “Yes.” He cast me a dark look. “Creighton Lane killed him.”
One of the brothers growled, low and guttural.
Spence seemed to pick up steam now that he said that last bit.
His head perked up. He stood taller, straighter.
“Before you ask, no. Cole Mauricio does not know who I am. I found out about my father five years ago. When my grandma, or who I thought was my grandmother, passed, I decided to come here. I approached my father, told him who I was, and it took a little bit, but after a while, he and I began a relationship. That ended two months ago.” He sent another murderous look my way, and he glared for a full five seconds before lowering his voice, returning to normal level as he continued talking with Tristian West. “I have been waiting for you or your partner to do something about Lane, and you still haven’t.
I’m tired of waiting.” He motioned toward where my friends were locked up.
“Lane took something of yours. Well, here’s something of his.
This is me, if you haven’t figured it out, trying to speed this process up.
Hurt the one person he cares about. That’s the whole reason he took your people, am I right? ”
What was he talking about?
I didn’t have time to try and figure it out because as soon as he finished talking, Spence took a gun out and crossed the room, pointing it at one of the cells.
I opened my mouth. “Don—”
Bang!
I ended it on a scream and launched myself forward.
He shot—Palma screamed at the same time I did.
A second bloodcurdling scream erupted from her, instantly making my stomach churn as Marshall dropped to his knees with an abrupt and violent thud.
Heath scrambled, trying to go to him, but he and Palma still had their hands zip-tied behind them.
Their tape was in place except Palma broke free a corner of hers.
Her scream was too powerful, and a corner hung from her mouth, while the top of her lip was bleeding.
Tears streamed down her face. She and Heath knelt down, but had to keep turning around to try and help Marshall.
Oh, god. Marshall.
I was caught by one of Spence’s brothers, and I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to get free from his hold.
I tried jerking out of his arms, but he held tighter until my knees buckled.
Marshall’s wide eyes met mine. Shocked. Scared.
Blood drained from his face. He tipped backward.
His chest was heaving while blood pooled on his shirt, spreading around him.
This was me. Because I moved in with them—this wasn’t just on Creighton. I should’ve gotten my own place. I shouldn’t have made friends.
This was all my fault.
“There.” Spence brightened, his cheerfulness like a dagger into my chest. “One down. Three more to go.” He aimed at Palma.
“Hey!”
Tristian West was storming our way, his own gun up and aiming at us. Correction—at Spence. The other guard who didn’t have a hold of me tried to intercept, but West growled at him. “Back the fuck up, Penn.”
He raised his hands, his gun in the one hand, and backed the fuck up.
As soon as he was clear, West lowered the gun until it was resting against Spence’s forehead. I could tell this was not how Spence thought things were going to go. His face was slack.
“What are you doing?” Spence asked, hoarse as his head moved against the gun’s muzzle.
“You don’t give us gifts and then kill one before you hand them over.” West extended his other hand, palm up. “Keys. Now.”
Spence didn’t dare move an inch. Slowly, he slid a hand into his front pocket and pulled out a key. He handed it over.
West took it, and held it behind him.
Walden snatched it up, whistling at two of the guys that came in with them.
They went to unlock the cell where Marshall was bleeding all over the floor.
As Walden’s two guards stepped in and began to move Marshall, West spoke, “Lane took four of our people. Four. You’re going to shoot another one, and that would’ve left us with only three as a bargaining chip.
Three to four. You would’ve sabotaged us before we were even able to start negotiations with Lane.
How do you think that would’ve gone over? ”
Spence was so eerily still. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and he swallowed again before pointing to me. “You only need her. He doesn’t care about the others. Just her.”
West’s eyes skirted to me, hardened, and went back to Spence. He leaned in, and lowered his voice to whisper though everyone could hear, and that was the point. “She cares about them, I bet. Right?”
Spence wasn’t following West’s logic.
He pushed harder against Spence’s forehead, enough where Spence flinched from the pain. “The thing you don’t get is that Green, herself, is another player on the board.”
I frowned, confused, but was distracted because the guards returned. They began to pull Palma and Heath out of the cell.
Palma screamed, “No! No! Please.”
I tried getting to her, and this time, the big oaf holding me wasn’t expecting it. I launched free, and was across the room in a second. There were shouts behind me. I ignored them all and flung myself at the guard who was trying to manhandle Palma.
Think, Blake!
Of course that voice in my head wouldn’t sound like me. Of course it would bark at me, sounding like Creighton, and of course, I would adhere to it because dammit, it/he was right. I needed to think. Be smart. We could get out of this alive.
Walden’s guard wasn’t expecting me to know a few things, how to handle myself, so when I launched at him, he opened his arms to catch me.
I let my body turn to dead weight, which he wasn’t expecting.
As I went down, through his arms, I grabbed his gun, completed a somersault on the floor.
Shoving back up to my feet, I had his gun up and pointing at .
. . Well, at everyone. I grabbed Palma and hauled her behind me.
Heath helped, herding her too. They were trying to help each other with their tape and zip ties.
The problem was that we were going farther into the cell.
There was still shouting.
I tuned them out.
The guard realized my mistake the same time I did. He lunged for the cell door, which would’ve locked us inside. I changed direction, going for the door.
I was going to be too late.
Except movement blurred in the cell next to us.
A beefy arm reached through the cell, grabbed a hold of the guard, and yanked him back.
The other beefy arm wrapped around the guard’s neck, and my heart froze, for a full second, until a very bloodied and discombobulated face peered at me from behind the guard.
Levi woke up.
He couldn’t talk. He could barely see, with only one eye opened, but he was trying to relay that he was okay. Or, no. He jerked his gaze from me to the door and back again. He was telling me to run.
There was a certain amount of resignation and acceptance, and sadness in his eye.
No.
No.
He was preparing to die.
I saw it. I read it. I didn’t accept it.
I began shaking my head, but his eye jerked from me to the door and back again.
Heath shuffled to my side, saying quietly, “Let’s go.”
This was not going to happen, but I could already see that Levi was going to make it happen. My insides screamed in protest. They were wailing because I wouldn’t lose a brother.
I would not.
He gave me one more meaningful look, grunting before he slammed the guard back against the cell.
Feet pounded on the floor.
They were coming to separate them.
Other guns.
I had two seconds to move.
One second to think.
One second to act.
With a snap, I knew what I was going to do.
One second—I shoved Heath and Palma out of the cell.
The last second, I raised the gun—they were all yelling.
I was the cash prize.
If something happened to me, Creighton would burn this city down. Knowing that, knowing I was not going to stand by and let Levi die for me—I touched the gun to my temple.
Everyone skidded to a halt.
The side door opened . . .
Creighton walked inside.