Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DANTE
Ezra and I storm Sinro’s armory, snatching up boxes of ammunition and shoving them into duffel bags like they’re going out of stock.
We’re joined by new recruits Ezra must have called in because he’s briefing them on the mission like he’s not some sweet, chaotic twink.
“Head toward Hudson Bridge. We’ll enter the tunnels there. According to Alaric, the rest of SIXX are holed up there.”
Give Ez ten years, and I bet he’ll be running Sinro.
“Want me to drive again?” I ask, falling in line with him as we head toward the parking garage. Car keys hit me in the chest, and I fumble to catch them.
“I hate driving. Passenger princess for life,” he says.
Chuckling, I hop behind the wheel and whip the SUV out of the garage. I speed as much as possible, given that the streets are always fucking congested. I do appreciate the glamour the city has to offer, but getting around here is a real bitch.
A curse slips from me as red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. Gripping the wheel tighter, I mutter, “I’m not fucking stopping.”
When we screech to a halt beneath the Hudson Bridge, Ezra climbs halfway out of the passenger window to wave the cop along like we’re not the problem. Was I driving sixty in a forty zone?
Absolutely. I want my motherfucking brother and my boyfriend back.
The police officer gets out of his car. He doesn’t make it two strides toward us before tires screech and a flood of headlights has him ducking behind his open car door for cover.
Ezra reaches into the backseat to grab his gun and a duffel bag.
“Forest will lead you from here,” he says.
And then he’s gone, sprinting toward the pitch-black hole carved into the overgrown hill where the bridge meets the road.
I sense Ez is more worried about his husband than he’s letting on. It motivates me to hop out of the vehicle with the gun he loaned me, determined to run after my man, too. But I’m cut off by another vehicle rolling up to the scene in wild, tire-screeching fashion.
Forest is hanging out of the passenger window in his dark button-up shirt and slacks, belting along with the music blasting from the radio. Something about wanting a man after midnight.
As more vehicles arrive, Sinro mercenaries stream into the tunnels. The police officer is trying to shout orders, but his words are drowned out by Forest’s enthusiastic performance.
Rorik approaches the officer, apparently trying to smooth things over. Forest jumps out of the window and jogs over to me.
“Hey, Dante. You good?”
“Could be better,” I admit, sniffling.
He hands me a comm piece. “Here. Talk to your man.”
Heart skipping, I shove it in my ear.
“Rev?” My voice quivers.
There’s a long pause on the line, and then I hear his voice. “Hey, murder kitten. You coming to rescue me?”
Air whooshes from me in relief. My knees nearly buckle. “If you die, I’ll make sure to bring you back just so I can kill you.”
“No sex talk on the line. It frightens the newbies,” Rev teases.
A choir of chatter rises at that, mostly threats to go to HR.
Apparently, it's a running joke at Sinro since Rev used to head up the department. I can’t imagine why anyone would put him in charge of handling internal issues, but the more I think about it, the more it makes me want to laugh at the ridiculousness. He probably lived for the drama.
Fuck, I really love him.
“My brother?” I whisper.
“He’s here somewhere. We’re looking, baby boy. One more hunt, and then this ends. No more fear.”
I nod like Rev can see me, and Forest makes a fake puking noise. He follows this up with a wink before he retrieves supplies from his vehicle and hands me a pair of night vision goggles.
Even with Forest’s support, I don’t think I’ll ever acclimate to this sort of environment. I don’t belong here. I’m not a hardened soldier. I’ve never saved anyone in my life. I couldn’t save Papi. Couldn’t even fight my way through Laz’s arms that night.
I’ve spent the last several months of my life covering up my grief with anger because it’s easier to handle.
I trail Forest to the mouth of the tunnel. Grass hangs from the stone top, and puddles of green, oily slick water ripple beneath our shoes. Thank god Ezra made me gear up at Sinro or I’d still be rocking dress shoes like the rest of the crew from the gala.
“We have a lot of ground to cover, Dante. Don’t get discouraged,” Forest tells me.
Grimacing, I mutter, “Figures snakes like SIXX would lurk in some creepy subterranean hideout.”
“Better than on a plane,” Forest says.
I frown at him. “What?”
“Snakes On a Plane. You know, the movie?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re saying right now.”
“Movies are kind of my thing. I don’t have anyone to entertain me at night like you all do.” Forest cocks his gun. “Night vision goggles on.”
As I slide them over my eyes, the tunnel entrance somehow becomes even more sinister in my glowing vision. It’s like the gaping mouth of a slumbering monster. I don’t comment on it, entering stealthily behind Forest.
“Right turn ahead, Forest,” a voice instructs through our comm.
It’s boyish and monotone. The computer guy—Alaric?
—must be our guiding light. I wonder if he’s here with the teams or if he stays at Sinro.
He didn’t look the type to hold a gun, but I would have thought the same about Ezra before our CQC training.
“Left, Forest. You’ve got two…no, three more turns and then you’re a straight shot to Rev.”
Anticipation spreads in my chest. We’re so close.
Forest takes the left turn before me, and a gunshot blasts, echoing through the tunnels. I almost drop my gun in alarm. Water splashes, and horror surges through me as I realize Forest went down.
“Shit.” I rush forward, plunging into the foul-smelling water to grab him by his shirt and haul him back around the corner, away from whoever shot him.
I get him propped against the wall. Clicking on the light to my gun, I curse as it shines too bright in my vision. I shove the goggles off my head to better inspect him. There’s a bullet hole in his chest near his right shoulder that’s leaking blood into his shirt at an alarming rate.
Forest winces, his breaths coming through gritted teeth. “Hey. We’re cool as cucumbers, Dante. We got this. We fucking got this. Just…give me a second to regroup, okay? Fuck, that hurts.”
With a shaky hand, I speak into the comm. “Forest is hit.”
Curses flow over the line from several people.
“Who’s closest to them?” Cain demands.
“Rev’s almost there,” Alaric replies.
Knowing it’s going to come down to me to protect Forest until Rev gets here, I put myself between him and the crossway in the tunnels where he was shot.
This is my fault. None of Sinro’s mercenaries should be here. None of them should be putting their lives on the line for me and my brother. We inherited this legacy of blood, not them.
My heart skips as I spot a hulking silhouette approaching. Fucking Cristián in his black demon mask. It’s like he crawled out of my nightmares.
Lifting the gun, I take aim. I imagined this moment too many times to count, but it doesn’t feel like it should. I don’t feel any better knowing I’m the one pulling the trigger this time.
“Where’s my brother, asshole?” I push through clenched teeth.
He doesn’t slow his pace, so I clip him in the side with a bullet. He pauses to glance down at the wound for all of three seconds before he starts moving again.
I know how to make him stop, but now my hands are shaking, and my breaths are coming too fast and choppy.
Shoot him. He murdered Papi. He ruined us.
Hot pressure builds behind my eyes. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I just want my family back. I want Rev and my brother.
Cristián spins and kicks the gun from my hand. It splashes into the water, the flashlight glowing under the murky surface, providing just enough muted light for me to see his movements.
Flicking open a pocketknife, Cristián steps between me and my dropped gun. I whip out my own knife out of instinct. Each thunderous beat of my heart is a stark reminder of the life I so desperately want to cling to.
When he slashes, I feign to the side. His foot is there to sweep me, toppling me into the stagnant, foul-smelling water. It’s another shock to my system, and my brain jolts me upright.
Without my knife.
No one tells you what self-defense really looks like. That you might be fighting for your life against a masked serial killer in a fucking grimy tunnel, trying not to catch an infection from polluted water.
When Cristián strikes again, I catch his wrist and step my back into his chest. I wrap my other arm around his elbow and then spin out to get him in a kimura trap. He drops his pocketknife as I tweak his shoulder and elbow, but he gives no indication that he’s in pain.
What the fuck is wrong with SIXX?
His deep laughter fills the tunnel as he drops his head back. “Cute attempt. Should have shot me in the head, Dante.”
My first thought is to sweep him and take him to the ground for a submission, but I’m not about to play in that stank-ass water again.
Laz would know better what to do. I don’t think things through like he does, though, so I shove Cristián away.
He’s back on me in a second. I barely get my hands around his forearms to hold him at bay. He jerks his head forward, smashing his mask into my face. The blow rattles me, shooting pain through my nose.
Fuck, if he broke it…
As we cling to each other’s arms, fighting for control, I bring a knee to his stomach. It barely brings a twinge of pain to his face.
“Weak,” he taunts. “Your father and brother outshine you.”
I squat low, shoving my shoulder against his side, where I grazed him with a bullet. Growling, I heave him over my body into the disgusting water.
“That’s because I’m a dancer, not a fighter, motherfucker. How’s it feel knowing a man who prefers tights and lace just dropped your ass?”