45. Levi
FORTY-FIVE
levi
I’ve never had an issue running amuck in sticky situations and taking shit as it comes.
It’s second nature.
A role I played well under the most heated of scenarios, and I liked being a starring player.
However, as of late, and thanks to my faked death, I can’t seem to focus on anything but getting the fuck out of hiding and getting back to Bay Astor.
I’m going stir-crazy without being within arm’s reach of her at all times.
You can’t blame me. All I did was see her, protect her, check in on her, and be with her.
However, all that feels like it’s changed since…well, the day I came back, and we fucked.
Then I left.
Like a chump.
With any other girl, a plethora of things could’ve happened.
They’d stalk me.
Call me.
Text me a hundred messages about how much of a prick I was if they managed to get my number. I can’t honestly say how many blocked numbers I have on my phone, but they’re tucked away and never bothered with again.
There’s also the famous “jumping” at races where they’d show up out of nowhere like I wanted round two.
But with Bay, it’s like it never happened. A small dose of the bullshit I’ve handed out over the years to come back and bite me in the ass. She hasn’t mentioned a word about it—not that we’ve had much time—but it leaves me on edge.
Then she gave my Titan seat to Baby Wildes, and I’ve been champing at the bit to forget this whole fucking idea of being dead and just end this shit already.
Which is what I’m here to do.
Matteo De Leon sits within these dilapidated walls, and he’s not going to get out of them.
His journey ends tonight.
With my hands wrapped around his throat and my town given back to me right after I punch the shit out of Torin Wildes.
The kicker, Ramsey Wildes.
Killing two birds with one stone is how I highly anticipated this night to go.
However, the downside is my little ride-or-die sitting in one of my men’s trucks contemplating her next move.
Yanking the door open, Bay’s eyes narrow, telling me she knows exactly who’s behind the mask.
Reaching for the visor—a commonplace to keep keys—I grab them and drop them in her lap. “Drive.”
“No.”
Knew it.
“If you don’t get out of here,” I warn, “then I’m not going to be able to save Boy Wonder and your little husband now, am I?”
Her blue eyes soften a tad. “I can help.”
“You can’t.”
She cranes her head to the passenger seat and points. “There are M-80s in here.”
“And who the hell are you gonna toss those to, Astor?” My eyes mindlessly scan the area then, looking for any signs of The Void or anyone else without a white mask. “You need to get out of here.”
“And what are you gonna go do?”
“Improvise.”
Bay scoffs. “Alone? Nice try.”
“You severely underestimate me,” I grind out. geezus Christ. I know she hasn’t seen me a ton in action, but this is my damn job. I live and breathe for this shit. “Now, please , do what I say and go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
My fingers ball into tight fists because I can’t drive her home and come back and expect shit to be the same. “If you love me, Astor…you’ll be the least of my worries tonight. I can work. I can focus. I can get your boy out and?—”
“Stop callin’ him that,” she chides through clenched teeth. “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”
“Ozzy is in there.”
“Ozzy is Ozzy.”
I have no fucking idea what that means, but okay. “I promise, I’ll be fine, ’kay? I’ve done shit like this a million?—”
“Find the fuckin’ girl,” a male voice slices through my argument, stirring the air with danger and another issue. “She came out this way.”
I sigh, not prying my eyes off Bay. “Get down. I’ll come back for you in a second.”
“Can you fight?” Her gaze falls to my gut. “Are you…”
Nope.
Still stitched up.
Broke a few fucking Bay.
Will do it again.
“Twenty-one questions are up, Astor.” I slowly close the truck door, but her heel shoots out to keep it wedged open. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”
“Depends on what you had in mind.” Her ass slides off the seat, getting to her feet, and she sends me one of her fake-ass sweet smiles. “We work better together.”
We do.
However, I don’t know how many guys are roaming around this gravel parking lot filled with abandoned cement and semi-trucks. And if they have guns, we’ve had enough gunshot wounds to last us a lifetime.
“I can’t lose you,” I divulge wholeheartedly. “You already lost the baby. We have a lot to talk about and work through. This isn’t a?—”
Bay reaches for my hand and stops my next words dead in their tracks.
“I need something to take my mind off this. He murdered my kid. And I just walked out of there like it was nothing.”
“You’re up against guns and rocket launchers, Astor. You don’t have immortality, unfortunately.”
“I want him dead. Tonight. ” Her blue eyes darken and narrow. “I want you to do it. I want to be there.”
My cock was already semi-hard before.
But now it’s steel.
A king is nothing without a queen. He’s nothing but pride, ego, and muscle. A queen might soften him, but she strengthens him as well. Especially in scenarios like this. I would give Bay anything she wanted just by her staring up at me like this.
“ Hey !” a male voice shoots out, setting my body rigid. “What are you doing out here, motherfucker?”
“Two,” Bay whispers, stepping a bit closer to me. “Both with guns. Short, stocky, and bald. The other is medium build.”
My heart accelerates a bit because she’s here, and I don’t want her to be. “Don’t move.” I don’t know if she hears me because she’s still eyeballing the two fuckheads who found us. “ Astor .”
“I heard you, big man,” she replies evenly. “What’s the play?”
Fucking you against this truck, but that idea is shot.
“I’ll handle it.” I rip my mask off over my head and shove it over hers, keeping her identity hidden even if the guys behind us saw her. “Give me a kiss. I have shit to do.”
Bay’s blue eyes lock onto mine, and I can read the words written behind them.
Now is not the time.
Never seems to be.
However, I don’t hesitate, fisting her shirt as I bend over to smash my mouth to hers.
Tongues teasing, and my entire existence worth a damn form in that kiss.
I never want it to end, but duty calls…like it always does.
Breaking the kiss, I pivot toward the two guys so I can pry myself out of Bay’s invisible clutches.
Two dudes.
Both have guns.
One is short and stocky, and the other is medium build, like Bay said.
“Stop right there,” the shorter one orders as I approach. “You’re dead, you Nameless piece of?—”
“ That’s Levi Wallace,” the other one shoots out, sounding half in shock, half terrified.
The other scoffs dismissively. “He’s dead.”
“ That’s him,” his buddy argues. “I’ve seen ’em.”
“Bullshit. I was there when we shot that prick.”
Nice.
I knew I would never get everyone who tried to mow Baby Wildes and I, but it’s like this asshole was delivered to me on a silver platter.
“I’m tellin’ you, man,” the tall one frets, taking a singular step back. “I know what he looks like.”
“He’s not—” I’ve already reached around and retrieved my Glock, pointing at the man whose truths rang through the air but remained unheard.
My bullet lands in his chest as he stumbles back while I nail the other asshole in the thigh, which is where I remember my first bullet hole that night was.
“Should’ve listened to him, asshole,” I deadpan through the immediate groans and uneven breathing coming from the first guy I shot.
I could stand here and taunt my life away with these guys.
I could play with my prey and make their remaining moments a living hell.
However, my men are in that warehouse, as well as Matteo De Leon. Sure, Torin and Ozzy are in there, but they’ll be…fine or whatever.
I have more confidence in my cousin than I do Baby Wildes making it out, but he’s escaped death before.
He’ll have to do it again.
I unload the other fifteen bullets into the two dudes, unnecessarily overkilling them, but there’s a method to my madness.
Those gunshots will be heard in the warehouse in rampant succession. It’s a play I’ve done with my men before.
Some may remember.
Others might not.
However, it might move Ramsey to hurry up with his dramatic entrance and possibly shit his pants that he’s not the only one with a nice little surprise in store.
Small hands grip my bicep, before Bay gives me a small tug.
“We need to get them out of there. I got the M-80s. Here…” I glance down at her, and she’s already unmasked herself, holding white material in her hands. “Back to undercover, you go.”
I pluck the ski mask from her grasp. “I think you’re liking this whole me being gone thing.”
“What girl wouldn’t want some masked guy running around and scaring the shit out of her?” She narrows her eyes, causing a mindless chuckle to hit my chest.
“Fair.”
Putting my mask back on, I reach for her hand as Bay laces our fingers together. The only way to do this is high ground and the roof.
However, I’m not a fan of heights or Bay breaking her fucking neck because there’s going to be no arguing with her about not coming.
So I opt for Plan B.
“We might want to back up for this one,” I hedge, doing just that with her.
“Why?”
“I have this place loaded with dynamite. One of many places in The Landings that’s currently sitting on a landmine.”
Once upon a time, when I was given the South Shore Titan seat from Roger, I had explosives rigged in many buildings Emilio Wildes used in hopes I’d nail him one day.
That, and I always wanted to see The Landings blow up in a bright orange ball of fire.
This warehouse might be a shithole. But it used to hold guns, drugs, and other illegal substances. I just never acted on it because I was hoping I’d get word Emilio would be in it.
However, after one too many assassination attempts, he only stayed in places he knew I couldn’t get to easily.
Fishing for my phone, I pull up the hidden app Travis made for me and pick out this location to annihilate. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to be my tech guy in this game.
He might not have any game, but Travis is always on call for my violent needs, and he’s helped keep The Nameless on top since I became king.
“You’re going to blow this place up?” Bay asks me, watching me move around my phone.
“I can hit it all at one time,” I reply. “Or in pieces. One warning shot should have Ramsey fleeing.” I look up at the roof. “Where’s Ozzy?”
“I don’t know. He never said.”
I exhale a loaded breath because there immediately goes Plan B.
Bay would never forgive me for blowing up her husband, and I’d actually feel bad about it since he’s related and shit.
Just do it. You need to protect your family, not them.
“Do it on the left,” Bay cuts through my thoughts. “He’d stay close to the boys.”
I inhale because she’s not a mind reader, so she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. “No one is going to live through that blast if he’s on top of it.”
“One shot,” she mutters. “To scare the shit out of them. I know he wouldn’t be on the other side.”
“Astor—”
“Do it before I change my mind. They have Lorenzo Black in there, too.”
My head snaps to her, but Bay doesn’t take her eyes off the building. “You saw him?”
“I heard Ramsey announce they had him, and Pretty Boy was pissed.”
“When isn’t he pissed?”
“Beats the hell out of me, but Oz would take his shot. He’s hovering over them. He knew where I was surrounded by The Nameless. He was close.”
Glancing down at my phone again, I power up the screen and find the button for the left corner, a ticking time bomb that’s immediately going to go off the moment I press it.
Thumb hovering, I’m a second from pressing it, when a plethora of male voices breaks through the air and falls out of the building in front of us.
“Every car, I want on them,” I hear Torin shout to my men. “ Every fucking car!”
Bay shifts toward the truck, and the sheer gut punch I feel coming off her hits me too. “They have him.”
I don’t have to ask who.
Would it matter?
It’s obviously not Torin, and there are only two other men Baby Wildes would be worrying about right now.
“Get in,” I order, smacking her ass to do so before latching onto her bicep. “Fuck this one.” I quickly search around the lot and find a familiar Plymouth Roadrunner. “This one.”
I pull Bay with me, and she follows, getting into the passenger seat while I round to get to the driver’s.
“Isn’t this Marshall’s ride?” she asks me as I begin to yank wires out from underneath the steering column.
“Yep.”
“We’re ruining this, aren’t we?”
“Good possibility.”
“We’re going to owe him for this.”
I smirk, examining the correct wires so I can bypass the ignition switch to send the current to the starter motor. “ You’re going to owe him. I’m still dead.”
Bay smacks the back of my shoulder. “You know damn well I’m not going to be able to replace this.”
“Juice is setting up a race this week. Looks like you’re in.” She settles in her leather seat, arms crossed and not appearing hella pleased about it. “You got this, Astor,” I say right as the engine roars to life, and I immediately back it out because Marshall will hear this damn thing a mile away.
“Where would they go?” Bay mutters underneath the loud two-chamber exhaust.
“I’ll worry about that,” I reply. “Just hold on.”
And I do mean hold on.
Bay and I have been through a lot of bullshit car chases and heists but not with someone’s life at risk.
With two people’s lives at risk.
Pretty Boy said “them.”
Plural.
Plural equals Ozzy and Lorenzo.
I don’t need confirmation to know they might be in two separate vehicles, and we’re going to have to choose one.