10. Theo
Chapter 10
Theo
I called Octavio the second I dropped off Astrid. I didn’t have time to mourn the separation. Didn’t have time to worry about her. Now, she was Axel’s responsibility, and I trusted he would care for her the way I would care for Scarlett if our situations were reversed. I gathered my closest guys and told them to prepare, without telling them the location or the target.
Because I was paranoid.
If Bolton knew I was coming, it would make my life difficult. It would decrease my odds of victory. He must have known I would torture his colleagues until I got the information I wanted, so there was always a chance that the Carson tip-off was just a setup.
I was prepared for any scenario.
We took two Hummers out of the city and made the drive to Rome. A commute during the day would take hours with traffic, but in the middle of the night with no cars on the road, it took us no time at all.
I hadn’t spent a lot of time in Rome, but it reminded me of Florence, with the cathedrals and ancient buildings with walls full of history that no one remembered. I’d already pulled Carson’s information myself so no one would know I had that intel. I had her address, a nice apartment that seemed out of a single woman’s budget.
Which told me that Bolton had paid for it. It was more than an affair. He was a fucking sugar daddy. Putting his mistress in a beautiful apartment so she would keep her mouth shut and not blow up his marriage.
Despicable.
I stared at the building from the street, seeing that all the windows were dark because the lights were out. It was a single building with two luxury apartments, and she occupied the one that faced the street.
Which meant it was easy to see.
Octavio was behind the wheel, smoking his cigar with the window cracked as we remained parked at the curb. “How do you want to play this? Just blow the place to hell or sweep it?”
“There’s a woman in there.”
“So?” Octavio asked .
“Adultery isn’t a crime, so she doesn’t deserve to be blown to hell.”
“The Pope will tell you otherwise.”
I continued. “I’m not even sure if he’s inside.”
“Should have had me stake it earlier.”
I didn’t trust anyone right now. “Let’s move.” Astrid had told me Bolton was a night owl and usually went to bed at two in the morning. It was three-thirty now, so he should be out for the night.
We left the cars and crossed the street. No cars were on the road, just a couple parked along the side of the street. As far as I could tell, there was no security posted on the block. That could mean two things. Either Bolton actually wasn’t there, or he wanted to give the illusion that he wasn’t.
We were about to find out which.
It was a private building, so each apartment had its own entrance. Carson’s door was equipped with a keycard lock and a passcode, security that was too advanced for someone who lived an ordinary life.
I stepped outside and let Tyson handle it, my tech guy who could hack anyone he wanted to. He pulled his equipment from his bag and began the process of breaking into the system, tricking it into thinking it had received the keycard and the passcode, and then a couple minutes later, the door clicked as it opened .
I went first, pistol in my hand with the bulletproof vest secured around my chest and torso. I’d been shot a couple times, and it was always a bitch to dig out the bullet and sew up the wound. Ink could hide scars but not erase them.
It was a three-story apartment, and the downstairs was the foyer, the sitting room, the kitchen, and the grand dining room. A wineglass was on the kitchen counter, a drop of white wine sitting at the bottom. The smell of dinner was in the air, like someone had cooked in the kitchen in the last few hours.
I did a sweep downstairs, and my guys did the same, checking closets and pantries in complete silence. My experience as a cop had taught me skills that criminals didn’t have. I’d passed that knowledge on to my guys, and we were able to move and communicate without saying a word.
I took my time as I headed upstairs, knowing too much weight on a single plank could make it scream like the scratch of a record. The walls were covered in black wallpaper with white lilies, and a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling over the stairs. It was an elegant place, a property worth millions.
Just when my head crested the next floor, something was tossed down the stairs.
I hesitated. “Bomb.” I sprinted up the stairs just before it went off, releasing a cloud of gas that leaked toward the kitchen and crept to the floor I had just reached. It all happened fast, seeing his dark outline in the parlor, a rifle in his hands and a gas mask on his face. He aimed the rifle and pulled the trigger.
I sprinted across the room then rolled until I was covered by the wall of the next room. Bullets sprayed the walls and the house. Even though I was used to the sound, the gunshots were still harsh on the ears.
He stopped shooting when I was out of sight.
I got up and kept moving, heading down the hallway and rounding the corner before he could shoot me in the back.
I knew I could kick out a window and climb around to sneak behind Bolton, but my plan was thwarted when I saw the woman down the hallway, wearing a gas mask just like Bolton. In her hand was another smoke grenade, and she taunted me with it before she rolled it toward me.
If I ran back, I’d be pumped full of lead. If I ran forward, I would die in the poison gas.
That left me one choice.
The bomb exploded in the hallway, and smoke immediately filled the space.
I took a deep breath before I stuffed my gun into the back of my jeans. Then I ran for it, ran for the last place she’d been before she disappeared in the haze. It was dark and the smoke was thick, but when I hit something that moved, I knew I’d found her .
My heart pumped harder in my chest from the lack of oxygen and the exertion in my muscles, so I knew time was limited before my lungs forced me to breathe. I found her on the floor as she tried to crawl away from me, her scream muffled by her mask. She kicked me when I tried to grab her ankles.
Then bullets sprayed from behind me.
Bolton pulled that trigger without giving a damn that his side piece could be there.
I tossed her in an open doorway that must lead to a spare bedroom.
She fought me with all she had, showing a surprising amount of strength for someone so petite. But she knew she was fighting for her life. She threw her fists at my face then grabbed her knife and tried to slice it across my throat.
I would normally punch her in the face to knock her out, but if I cracked the mask, I was done for. I slammed my fist down into her stomach so hard she gave a scream mixed with a painful gasp.
But I didn’t care.
I yanked the mask off her face and left her there.
Left her there to inhale the poison gas and die a painful death.
I grabbed a chair and threw it against the window. The glass shattered, and the chair went flying. I cut both of my hands as I grabbed on to the ledge and hoisted myself up to breathe the clean air. I shook out the mask to make sure there was no gas inside before I put it on. I slipped it over my head before I took my first breath.
Nothing burned—so I was safe.
I dropped back to my feet and grabbed my pistol from my back pocket. I was trapped in the room, but unless Bolton had ammunition on him, he would run out of bullets for his rifle soon. He probably had a handgun too, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop me, not unless he’d already hit me in the first place.
“Is that it?” Bolton said from the hallway. “This is the infamous Skull King? No wonder your brother died a pussy.”
I crept to the door and glanced at Carson’s dead body. Her skin was already pale and yellow, and froth had dripped from her mouth. Her eyes were open wide and fixed on the ceiling. This was a woman who’d claimed she loved Bolton, and he did her dirty just the way he did to his wife.
It was tempting to reply, but I knew he wanted to know exactly where I was.
I was a sitting duck in this bedroom and had to get out.
The smoke was still heavy in the hallway, making visibility nonexistent. I hoped my guys had run for it and had been spared the painful death Bolton just gave his girlfriend. When I poked my head down the hallway, I couldn’t see anything. If I couldn’t see anything, then neither could he .
I moved into the hallway and ran for it, and the second he heard my footsteps, he opened fire.
I made it to the next room, another sitting room attached to a study. There wasn’t as much smoke in here, so it was easier to see. That meant Bolton would have a greater chance of hitting his target.
A stone fireplace was against the wall, and I hid myself against the side of it, using the reflection of the windows across the room to see him. He didn’t make his entrance for a while. He must have spotted Carson’s dead body left on the floor when he passed.
I felt no remorse.
“I may not be the perfect husband, but I’ve never killed a woman. Something that you can’t say, Theo.”
I still felt nothing. It was either her or me, and I wasn’t going to get killed just to be a gentleman. She’d given her heart to the wrong man, and that was the reason she was dead.
He entered the room with his rifle in his hands. “Stop running like a rat searching for a hole in the wall. Face me like a man?—”
I turned the corner and shot him, missing his head and neck and getting him in the shoulder.
He winced before he squeezed the trigger and blew the last of his rounds. I ducked back behind the fireplace and heard the click of the gun when the barrel came up empty. I rounded the corner and rushed him, aiming for his head this time.
He chucked the rifle at me then ducked behind the couch.
The gun smacked me right in the face and blood came from somewhere, but it didn’t stop me. “Now look who’s the fucking rat.” I kicked the couch and made it tip over on top of him. He crawled out before it landed on him and fired his handgun at me, hitting me right in the shoulder—the exact place where he’d stabbed me.
I yelled because it hurt like a motherfucker, the scar tissue ripped open as new trauma dug into the sensitive flesh.
He was quick and nimble, so he was on his feet fast. He ran straight at me, right into my gun, as I pulled the trigger.
I didn’t know if he took a bullet or not because he kept going. He hit me hard then grabbed my mask and tried to pull it off.
I punched him hard in the face, trying to crack the glass so he would die just like Carson.
He yanked at my mask and finally got it free.
I held my breath and punched him again. My gun had been knocked free at some point. His too. But he had a mask and I didn’t, and that meant I would die the second he punched me in the stomach.
That thought seemed to cross his mind because he rushed me, his entire body aimed for my core .
I dodged out of the way and hurled my entire body against the window. I felt the glass shatter at my weight, felt my body become airborne once I was in free fall. The streetlights were visible, the air was cold for a spring night, and I felt myself fly until I hit something.
It wasn’t concrete. If it had been concrete, my arms and legs would be broken.
A car alarm went off, and I knew I’d landed on one of the vehicles parked on the street.
“Theo!” Octavio ran to the car. “Move.” He tugged on my arm.
I looked up and saw Bolton stick his head out the window. He aimed his handgun down at me.
I rolled off the car and hit the concrete. Gunshots continued.
Octavio fired at the window and forced Bolton to retreat inside.
The other guys came out and helped me to my feet.
“Get him to the car,” Octavio said. “I’ll cover you.” He aimed his rifle and sprayed all the windows, keeping Bolton back so we could make our escape.
The Hummer pulled up, and I threw myself inside. I didn’t land on a seat, just against the floor so everyone could pile in .
Octavio sprayed his rifle as he backed up to the Hummer. He fired off all the rounds until the chamber was empty, and he jumped inside. He yanked the door shut, and then the driver took off, making us all lean to the opposite side.
Bolton must have found another rifle because he sprayed the Hummer with bullets as we made our exit.
When we rounded the corner, the bullets stopped.
I was still on the floor against the door, feeling the pain of the bullet in my shoulder and the aches in my body from falling twenty feet onto the roof of a car. But the pain that hurt most of all was my failure.
I’d failed her.