Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
REV
For once, my obsession turns out to be a good thing.
As my truck rounds the corner of Dante’s street, what I witness has me seeing red—figures in cloth masks dragging his bloodied, unconscious body toward the back of a janky, unmarked van.
I’m no longer human.
I’m something else entirely.
Slipping into my second skin, my real skin, I throw my truck into park and hop out with both pistols already clutched in my hands.
I shoot the SIXX holding Dante’s arms, splattering the van with their blood.
Curses spew from the remaining SIXX. They drop Dante’s body to draw their own guns, firing shots in my direction.
The demon mask standing on Dante’s porch joins in, nearly clipping me with a bullet that ends up shattering my truck’s headlight.
Jaw clenching, I glance back at the damage. My truck and my future husband?
John Wick’s got nothing on my level of commitment to violence.
I turn back around and pop off both guns with vengeance. The second SIXX collapses after a headshot. The third, who seems to be wounded, tries to flee. I drop him, too.
The masked figure on Dante’s porch slinks into the alley between brownstones. I give in to the chase. None of them are making it back to their little hideout to spread the message about this night.
No one survives.
Another shot blasts, and I take cover behind a line of trash cans in the alley. Holstering one gun, I load up the other with a fresh clip. Peeking around the cans, I fire as my target appears around the back of Dante’s brownstone.
I hear a grunt of pain and rush him. He’s on the run again, shooting back at me with his left hand now that his right hand is missing two fingers.
Sinking a bullet into his calf, I take him down. He rolls onto his back and continues firing at me like he’s not riddled with bullets. His aim is wildly inaccurate, with all the blood he’s leaking slicking up the gun.
I don’t know who the fuck these guys are, but they don’t seem to fear anything, even death.
His gun clicks, signaling an empty clip.
That’s when I stride over to him and kick it out of his hand.
Dropping a knee to his sternum to immobilize him, I grab him by the mask at the jaw.
The plastic material cracks under the pressure of my grip.
I keep squeezing until the jagged pieces cut into his flesh and blood trickles out.
“I’d take my time with you if I could,” I say coldly. “Fortunately for you, I need to go collect my man.”
He squirms enough to retrieve a pocketknife from somewhere. I yank it free, flip it open, and jab it into his neck. Then I stand and shoot him in the head, point-blank.
It’s fucking game over for SIXX. I’m fully dedicated to the cause of eradicating them.
But right now, I have more important matters to deal with.
Returning to Dante’s side, I take a moment to assess his state before I move him.
I brush my non-bloody hand along his cheek.
When I ease his head to the side, my murderous side rears its ugly head at the sight of a welt on his temple, in addition to the fading bruise on his jaw from the night we met.
He better not have a concussion. I shouldn’t have waited so long to check on him. Forest and I have been driving by when we can, but it’s not like we can be here twenty-four-seven to watch over him. Not unless I set up my office in the brownstone right next door to him.
Dante’s eyelids flutter before cracking wide open with fear. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Oh, you are a broken one, aren’t you? Good thing broken boys are my favorite.”
His expression scrunches up with anger. “Go shit yourself.”
“You got anyone else to peel you off the street and take you home, baby boy?”
His fight is already gone, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“Keep them open, Dante. Stay with me.”
Gingerly, I scoop him into my arms and carry him to my truck.
By the time I make it around to the driver’s side, he’s slumped down in the seat.
There’s a streak of blood on the beige leather that I’m sure is gonna stain.
I should be pissed, but the fucked-up part of me doesn’t mind because it’s his blood.
Easing him forward slightly, I lift up the back of his hoodie and curse at the open wound near his shoulder.
“You’re a hot mess.” I sigh.
Reaching over him, I pull a med kit out of my glove compartment. I lean out of my truck and pour alcohol over my hands to clean them of blood before I tug at Dante’s hoodie to remove it.
“…don’t consent…” he mumbles.
“Yeah, well, I want you alive so one day you can consent.”
“Keep…wishing.”
Once I get his torso bare, I cover his wound in gauze and tape it. Then I hook my hands in his armpits to pull him closer so his cheek rests on my thigh and his shoulder is mostly turned upward, where I can apply pressure if needed.
“Hate you,” he whispers, but his hand moves to grip my pants tightly.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, cupping one hand around the back of his neck.
I shoot a quick text to our live-in doctor to meet me at my apartment. With the amount of injuries we’ve had, and Cain’s outburst the last time he had to be admitted to the ER, we finally put a doc on our payroll, and I’m glad for it tonight.
Dante clings to me as I drive toward Sinro’s gleaming tower in East Bank.
Unfortunately, my body doesn’t seem to understand the situation.
“Down boy,” I whisper to my awakening cock.
“Perv,” Dante chastises.
“You can touch it if you want.”
“Take me back to that van.”
I chuckle. “So sassy.”
He falls silent, and I worry that he’s passed out again.
“Dante.” I move my fingers into his hair.
“Mmm.”
“No sleeping.”
“Tired though.”
“You can sleep all you want after we get you fixed up.”
His voice becomes softer. Almost fragile. “It hurts, Rev.”
“It’ll be better soon. No one is going to hurt you ever again.”
Pulling my truck into the parking garage below Sinro, I cut the engine right in front of the elevators. I’d like to see someone complain about it. I’m still vibrating with fury over SIXX’s attack on Dante.
When the elevator opens on the seventeenth floor, Ezra’s standing in the hallway between apartment doors. He’s dressed in workout clothes, his golden locks plastered to his head.
“Please tell me this is a willing hookup,” he says, looking over the man in my arms.
“Aw, don’t dis me like that, pretty boy. I’m doing heroic shit.”
Ezra’s nose scrunches up as I step off the elevator. “Is he okay?”
“Could be better.”
“How do I help?”
“Can you get the door?” I motion toward my apartment.
Ezra follows my orders, punching in my security code and holding the door open. Ezra’s never stepped foot in my apartment before, but he doesn’t hesitate tonight.
I’m not surprised. He’s got a heart a mile wide, and he’s curious like a cat. He won’t leave Dante alone. I can’t say I’m upset about it. Ezra might be good for Dante. Ezra’s good for everyone.
I rest Dante in my bed, not even a little bit concerned about his blood staining the sheets. Ezra glances up at me when a knock sounds on my door.
“It’s Kai. You mind fetching him?”
Ezra darts away while I keep running my fingers over Dante’s curls. I have to force myself away from him when Kai sweeps in.
Usually, I’d work to get a smile out of the poised, serious doc, but with Dante crumpled up on my bed, fighting to keep his eyes open, I find it hard to summon up a joke for once.
Ezra and I watch as Kai administers a shot of lidocaine. Then he shines a light in Dante’s eyes, asking him questions in a soft voice. Dante follows instructions when he’s told to roll onto his stomach so Kai can stitch him up.
“What happened?” Ezra looks at me.
“Masked psychos jumped him.”
Ezra’s face scrunches. “Did you fuck ’em up?”
“They won’t be hurting anyone ever again,” I confirm.
Kai glances up at me, a purse to his lips. Regardless of how he feels about our methods at Sinro, he doesn’t question them.
Once he’s created a perfect line of stitches in Dante’s skin, he stands and tugs off his latex gloves. “No concussion. Should I be expecting any other emergencies tonight?”
“No, Kai. Thank you,” I say.
He slips away without another word, but Ezra hangs around, fidgeting as he stares down at a now sleeping Dante.
A muffled buzzing sound comes from the bed. I rush to dig Dante’s phone out of his pocket before it wakes him, peeking at the name lit up on the screen.
Lázaro.
Didn’t he have a brother by that name?
“Watch him for a minute?” I ask.
Ezra nods, his expression one of determination. He might be small in comparison to most of Sinro’s mercenaries, but he’s just as much a protector as his intimidating husband.
“Is this Dante’s brother?” I answer the phone.
“Who the fuck is this?” a husky voice replies.
I nearly chuckle. Aggression must run in their blood.
“I’m a friend of your brother’s. He was assaulted on his walk home from work.”
“Fuck. Where is he?”
Wandering over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in my living room, I prop my shoulder against one of the cold panes as I look out at the city shining with thousands of lights. “Safe with me. I’ll bring him home when he wakes up.”
Lázaro is silent for a few seconds before he asks, “Who did this to him?”
“Do you know anything about SIXX?”
Another long pause, followed by a string of fluent Spanish I have to assume must be mostly curses.
“I’m going to assume that’s a yes.”
“Yeah, I fucking know about them. They put a bullet in my father’s head,” Laz replies harshly.
“They’re going to come for Dante again.”
Lázaro launches into another rant in Spanish as boots crunch over gravel in the background.
“Address. Send it to me now. I’m coming to get my little bro,” he says.
“He’s sedated and sleeping. I can bring him home in the morning.”
Lázaro hesitates. “If he’s not home by eight, I’ll make sure you pay for every minute he’s late.”
“I’m sure you will.”
After hanging up, I walk back into my bedroom to find Ezra sitting beside Dante, tenderly wiping at his bloodstained back with a damp washcloth. He tucked Dante’s lower body into the sheets, too.
I sigh, content with the scene playing out before me.
Ezra quickly earned a soft spot in my dysfunctional heart when Cain imprisoned him in a spare office years ago after he tried to steal from us.
He lived a very different life back then, threatened into the task by criminals who dealt in trafficking.
Ezra would have been trafficked himself if not for his disgusting foster parent wanting to keep him all to himself.
Witnessing Ezra caring for Dante now has me hoping for a friendship between the two. If anyone can win Dante over, it’s Ezra with his sweet, loyal personality.
But that would require Dante to stick around after he heals. As much as I want to lock him up, I know I can’t do that.
Which means I need to brainstorm alternative methods to keep him safe.
“Your hubby awake?” I ask Ezra softly.
“Always.”
I nod at Dante’s sleeping form. “You good to watch him a bit longer?”
Ezra flips his lip ring back and forth. “I’ll take care of him.”
I hold up my hand with Dante’s teeth marks indented in my skin. “Be careful. He bites.”