Chapter Sixteen #2
Griffin kept his hand on the shifter but slid a glance my way. “Ignore them. They’re just pissed because tonight I get to shoot the biggest piece of shit in Tennessee, and they get to play cleanup.”
“Don’t shoot anyone unless you have to,” I said, forcing a smile. “Interrogation’s not so fun when the target’s head is full of holes.”
“Noted,” he said, laying his hand on my knee and squeezing once before returning to the wheel. “But I make no promises.”
Inferno leaned forward between the seats. “Word to the wise, Veda. Your man here gets real murdery when he thinks someone’s threatened his girl. Used to be he just punched walls. Now he prefers skulls.”
“That’s a lie,” Griffin shot back.
Inferno shrugged. “Fine, but the ratio of drywall repairs to concussions has shifted dramatically.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stifle a laugh this time. It felt good. I’d spent months thinking I’d never laugh again, and here I was, jammed in a murder car with three ex-cons, feeling like the world might not collapse after all. Which was just all kinds of ironic.
The radio crackled. “Two miles out,” Knuckles said. “Kill the lights.”
Griffin flipped the switch, and darkness swallowed us. He guided the SUV onto the shoulder, then cut the engine. Ahead, the lead vehicle had already stopped, Knuckles and Hannah spilling out into the darkness around them.
“We go on foot from here,” Griffin explained to me, reaching for his door handle.
“Stay close to me. Do exactly what I say, when I say it. Not even if you have eyes on your sister. Got me?” He’d added that last because the man seriously knew me, even if we hadn’t known each other long.
He knew if I saw Tessa I’d be helpless not to go to her.
I almost smiled, then repeated his earlier response. “I make no promises.”
He caught my wrist before I could move. “I mean it, Veda. This isn’t like the compound. Iron’s expecting us. He’s had time to prepare.”
“I know.” I turned my hand, lacing my fingers through his. “I’m not planning to die tonight, Griffin. I’m planning to win. And the quickest way to get myself and my sister killed is to be the loose cannon.”
He nodded at me once and squeezed my hand, then we exited the vehicle, meeting at the hood where Inferno and Diesel waited, calm and focused.
Knuckles approached from the lead SUV, Hannah at his side. “Remember,” he said, voice low. “We want Tessa. We want Iron. Everything else is secondary.” His eyes found mine. “Once you have your sister, you get out when Griffin tells you. Let us handle the rest.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I never thought I would have someone helping me with this fight.
Now, I had a whole club full of badass men capable and willing to help an innocent young woman.
And the king of the Nashville underground.
Now I stood surrounded by people risking themselves to help me. It was almost too much to process.
The team split, Knuckles and Hannah peeling left toward the back of the restaurant, Inferno and Diesel circling right.
Knuckles and Hannah had had words about his old lady joining, but Hannah was as capable as any man in the club.
Given the fact that Tessa was likely scared out of her mind, Veda would focus on her sister and Hannah would have their backs.
Griffin and I took the front, moving across wet pavement carefully, weapons drawn but held low. Ahead, Vossberg’s restaurant sat dark and silent, a single security light above the entrance that someone had shot out, the bulb hanging by a thread of wire.
Fifty yards out, Griffin crouched behind a rusted propane tank and pulled me down with him. He leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. “When we enter, you stay close to me. Do exactly what I tell you. Understand?”
I nodded. “Yes.” He held my gaze for a long moment, narrowing his eyes as if trying to see if I was feeding him a line of bullshit.
“I promise, Griffin. I understand what’s at stake.
There are more women involved than only Tessa.
And stuff I don’t understand or care about.
” I leaned in and kissed his chin. “I swear, Griffin. I’ll do exactly what you or any of the others tell me without hesitation. ”
He leaned in and pulled me close for a hard kiss.
Then he tugged me to my feet, and we moved toward the door.
I took a breath. My heart pounded in my chest and I knew Griffin could feel me trembling beside him, but I had no intention of staying behind.
If my sister waited in hell, I’d charge into the same hell to save her.
Knuckles stood with his back to the door frame and “mule kicked”.
It sprang inward at nearly the same moment Inferno’s team crashed through the side entrance.
The building erupted. Tables overturned.
Chairs splintered. Someone fired a shotgun from the kitchen, the blast taking out the front window in a spray of glass and wood.
People screamed and shouted and I heard footsteps hurrying away.
I dropped to a crouch behind an overturned booth at Griffin’s urging, heart hammering against my ribs as I tried to make sense of the chaos.
The men from Kiss of Death used knives instead of guns, but everyone carried.
Griffin moved with animal grace, clearing the distance to the first man, taking him by surprise.
Griffin’s knife flashed, and there was a wet, muffled COUGH as the blade went straight into the side of the guy’s neck, buried to the hilt.
Blood sprayed the wall when Griffin yanked the blade free, and the man crumpled without a sound.
Before the guy even hit the floor, Griffin already had his back to me, his body a moving, breathing shield.
The next threat came from behind the hostess podium, a man with a gun up and aimed.
Griffin went low and to the right, knife in his left hand, and I swear to God I had to use every ounce of restraint not to run to him as I watched him catch the man’s wrist and shove it to the side.
The gun went off once, the roar deafening in the small entryway.
I covered my ears, unable to stop my small shriek.
Griffin buried the blade under the man’s ribcage and drove upward.
There was a thick, burbling noise and the guy sagged.
I swallowed back bile and spat once while I waited until Griffin came back for me.
We moved through the main dining room. There were two more men with Iron’s crew on the far side.
One had already dropped his gun and was backpedaling, hands in the air, while the other clung to a shotgun, wild-eyed and shaking.
I saw him frantically try to rack a shell when the thing jammed.
His eyes met mine for a split second. Then Knuckles was there, appearing out of nowhere, and crushed the man’s skull against the wall, sounding like a melon splitting.
The guy who’d thrown his gun knelt on the floor, hands up. I had no clue if the guy was really surrendering or just biding his time, but he kept his gaze on the floor, visibly shaking.
I followed Griffin through the kitchen swinging doors.
A figure in black darted from the walk-in freezer, heading for the rear exit.
Hannah tackled him at the knees, not even trying for finesse.
She wrenched his arm behind his back. When he howled, she grabbed a handful of his hair with her other hand and shoved his face into the tile twice.
There was a loud crack as something broke in his face.
When he still fought weakly, Hannah slammed his head into the tile one last time. The guy’s head gave and he didn’t move.
Griffin motioned for me to come to him. I moved in his direction, but three steps in, Griffin’s eyes widened just as something hard and large slammed into me from behind.
An arm locked around my throat, cutting off my air.
I drove my head back into his face, felt cartilage give way with a wet crack.
His grip loosened just enough for me to spin and face him.
I managed to pull my gun up and fired twice into his chest. The man dropped like a stone, blood spreading across the floor in a dark pool.
Griffin reached me, eyes scanning for threats, weapon still raised. “You hit?”
I shook my head even though I knew I probably shook as much as the guy in the other room. “I’m good. Where’s Tessa?”
Before he could answer, Knuckles and Hannah pushed through from the back, clearing the storage corridor with methodical efficiency.
Hannah’s face was set in lines of cold fury, a streak of someone else’s blood across one cheekbone.
Knuckles looked like he was enjoying himself, the kind of savage glee that made me want to step back.
“Inferno?” Knuckles called.
“Clear,” came the reply from the far side of the building. “Three down. No sign of the girl.”
“She’s here,” I said, the certainty of it burning in my chest. Sheer desperation and grief tried to overwhelm me. “She has to be.”
Griffin nodded. “Spread out. Check everywhere.”
We moved through the restaurant in pairs, clearing each room with military precision. The kitchen yielded nothing but a guy lying dead by the back door, a cell phone still clutched in his hand. The office was empty. The storage room held cases of liquor and cleaning supplies, but no Tessa.
Griffin pushed through the swinging door to the back dining room, then went perfectly still. “Veda,” he said, voice tight. “In here.”
I hurried to Griffin. The back booth was partially hidden by a support column, the vinyl seat torn and stained. Slumped sideways against the table leg, wrists zip-tied to the metal frame, Tessa sat only half upright.
My breath caught. She was so thin I barely recognized her, her clothes hanging loose on a frame that had always been slender but athletic and strong. Her hair was matted, stuck to her forehead with sweat or blood, I couldn’t tell which. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, pupils dilated.