Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
BOSTON
Damn, this guy can run, and I’m sure as fuck not going to run since my stomach is still healing. I’m going to stay as close to Maven as possible. There’s no way I’m leaving her by herself in that car. That’s my fucking wife.
Just as I step back into the forest, someone comes running at me, hitting me hard in the side, and I fall to the ground. Pain shatters through me, not just from the impact, but because of my fucking wound.
“Fuck you,” the person yells, and I know it’s the guy who’s running for his life.
The one she was meant to kill. He tries to scramble away, but I reach out with the same hand that was just inside my wife only moments ago and capture his ankle.
He falls, not expecting me to grab him, but he manages to catch himself with his hands.
He tries to kick me, but I roll to the side, then quickly get up and chase after him.
Making me run after him was his second mistake.
His first was fucking knocking me to the ground.
I’m fast. I chase a lot of fucking people in my job.
Not as many as when I first started, but still.
I tackle him to the forest floor, ignoring the pain that shoots through my midsection, and reach for my gun.
I strike him in the head with it, hitting the same spot he was bleeding from when he arrived.
I get up and shoot him in the foot. His scream echoes through the night, and I catch my breath as he finally goes still.
“Fuck, that has to hurt,” I say, and he glares up at me.
“Yeah, you deserved that.” I point to his foot, then shoot the other one, just in case he decides he wants to try running again.
Another scream rips out of him, and seconds later, I hear footsteps approaching.
Whoever it is will either come and watch the kill or go back to the cars and wait for one of us to come out victorious. This time, the victor will be me.
“You piece of shit. You’ll burn in hell for this,” he grumbles.
I scoff, “Like you believe in hell. There was a hit ordered on you, asshole. So who did you piss off?”
His eyes go wide, and he shakes his head angrily. “That fucking whore!” he yells.
I reach down, grab a stick, and step closer to him. Bending down so we’re at eye level, I stab the stick directly into the bullet wound on his right foot.
“Now that has to hurt worse.” I smile at him.
“You crazy motherfucker! Pull it out,” he cries.
Grinning maniacally, I twist the stick, and blood oozes out around it. His screams are like music to the forest’s ears. This place has heard many screams, and now it’s adding him to the list.
“But it’s more fun putting it in,” I say as I scan the immediate area.
Lucky for me, there’s another stick close by.
I grab that one and then slam it into his other foot.
He’s so caught up in the one I just fucked up that it takes him longer to realize there’s more pain in the other foot.
Though the impact did feel like it may have missed the hole and might have just made it bigger.
Oh well.
I would love to sit here and relish in his screams a bit longer, but I have something more important that I need to attend to, and that’s my wife.
Standing back up, I look down at my handiwork.
I smile in appreciation, knowing I’ve just won this hunt.
I’m sure my wife will be very pleased to know the man she got paid a lot of money for was taken out by her husband.
Maybe she’ll even give me a tip. The sexual kind, that is, because I would never take a single penny from her.
Though, she’s welcome to every single cent I have.
I don’t waste any more time before I take aim and unload my gun’s magazine straight into his head. He falls to his back, and I don’t bother sticking around to watch as the blood seeps into the forest floor where it belongs.
As quickly as I can, I make my way back to where the cars are parked. When I get there, I find a few members milling about. My gaze immediately goes to the back of the car, and there she is, still seated in the same spot where I left her.
When she sees me, she jumps to her feet and rushes in my direction. Her hands go to my stomach, gently checking my wound, then she looks up at me, her eyes connecting with mine.
“I think you deserve that milkshake now,” she says.
“Fucking hell,” Victor mumbles as he walks past us.
“Victor, a word,” Soren says.
I pull her against me, and she’s careful not to touch my wound.
“You need to see a doctor. You’re bleeding,” she whispers. I don’t bother telling her I felt the stitches rip earlier. I don’t want to worry her even more.
Soren leans in to speak to Victor. “I have a wife for you, if you’re willing.”
Victor tenses. “You just hand them out like candy?”
“No, but this one—”
“You better not fucking say it’s your sister. You tried that already,” Victor says.
“You could be good together,” Soren declares. “Or not.” He smirks.
“I’m going back to Vegas,” Victor grumbles.
Soren looks at him, surprised. For a moment there, we assumed Victor would stay. “If you need me, you know my number. I suggest you don’t use it, though.”