Chapter 28 #2
“It’s not that bad.” I can walk just fine.
“Gryffin runs faster than you. On all fours.” This time, I growl at her insubordination.
“Whatever.” It’s all I’ve got at this point, which makes Kincaid smile and, for her, that’s the equivalent of laughing her ass off. At least there’s that…I made Kincaid soft. Although I’d never tell her that. I love my balls too much.
Watching the entrance at the side of the hospital building where Ethan, the loyal orderly, met the brothers to let them inside, I grow more impatient with each passing minute. I need a distraction.
“What are you and Spencer getting all secretive about?” I don’t look at her as I ask the question but I can feel her entire body stiffen on the seat beside me.
That should’ve been my first clue to change the subject.
“Hope you’re not thinking of turning him straight ‘cause that’s not a thing.
” If it were, I’m sure Parker would have done it by now.
My mind immediately goes to my two favorite people and I wonder what they’re doing. If they’re sleeping or talking or just enjoying the silence. Although, knowing my Stabby, if she’s awake, she’s probably talking his ear off even as he nods off.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal Spencer from you.” I can almost feel her eyeroll.
“Who said anything about being worried?” The side door opens, then closes as a janitor throws a couple of garbage bags into the dumpster. Fuck, I thought it was the brothers.
“Then we’re good.” I blink at the clipped tone and armored steel curtain she just used to end the conversation. This is now more than just a distraction…color me intrigued.
“Oh, we’re far from good. What gives?” A cat approaches the dumpster, rubbing itself against one of the wheels while sniffing out the air.
“It’s personal so butt out.”
My attention veers from the alley cat as I swing my head back to Kincaid and stare at her profile.
Her features are like marble, hard and emotionless, her posture straight as a fucking light pole as her right leg bounces the tiniest bit like she’s trying to control that movement but is somehow incapable of it.
“You gotta—” I’m looking down at my ringing phone as I speak but I don’t get to finish that phrase. Both side windows are smashed open and Kincaid and I are suddenly getting up close and personal with the barrel of a gun at our temples.
“You move and we fucking blow your brains out right here and now.”
Kincaid and I are looking at each other as these two-bit mafia wannabes try to shake us down. I’m well aware that most sane people would take heed of this kind of warning, but as I keep trying to tell everyone…I’m not fucking normal goddammit.
I grin and Kincaid’s face goes from annoyed to ecstatic in half a second. There are few people I’d happily get held at gunpoint with and she’s one of them. Obviously, Parker and Psycho are at the top of that list, too.
“Did you hear that, K-bird?”
“Don’t ever fucking call me that.”
I grin because she gets it.
“Relax, it’s just a nickname for my favorite girl.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” We’re completely ignoring them and I can see from the confused look on Kincaid’s gun holder that he’s not sure what to do with us at this point.
“Calm down, you’re making a scene.” And there’s the trigger.
Just as the doors open on either side, the pieces of shit clearly trying to get us out of the truck, we both slam the door frames in their faces. The plan was to knock them out and drive away.
Did I mention the plan sucks ass? And not in a way that makes me come all over the fucking sheets. More like when the guy is so bad at it, his tongue feels like sandpaper. I shudder at the thought.
Gripping the door with a tight fist, I forget that these assholes broke the window, so now my palm is bleeding. The shock of the pain makes me hesitate a fraction of a second too long, giving the guy enough time to anticipate and move far enough away to avoid getting hit.
My only saving grace is that my guy no longer has his gun aimed at me, his arm is lowered as he hits me over and over again with the driver’s side door. I take the brunt of it but my body is buzzing with pent up hatred and anger so I’m not feeling any of the pain.
That’ll hit differently later on. Good thing my boyfriend’s a doctor. Well…soon will be.
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is your problem?” What the hell is my problem? Is this guy for real?
“You’re my fucking problem.” I finally get out from behind the door and behind me, I can hear grunts and bones cracking so I’m guessing Kincaid is doing hunky dory over there. With nothing between me and the gun, I should be cowering and running the opposite direction.
And miss all the fun? No fucking way.
Walking right up to him, I place my forehead to his now-lifted gun, grinning like the maniac I am.
“I moved yet you didn’t shoot.” My voice is calm and my body is eerily still.
“You’re a fucking nutcase, ain’t ya?”
“Thank you.” I’m about to make a move like Jackie Chan in Rush Hour, quick and lethal, but the sound of a gun going off distracts me enough for who I’m guessing is an O’Malley goon to get his shit together.
The last thing I see before the blunt force to my head has me laid out on the ground is Kincaid’s angry face, blood sliding down her temple, and a black eye that’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker later.
“Fuck! What is y’all’s problem?” I mean, I know what their problem is, they’re pieces of shit, but still. Of all the people Parker had to piss off, she chose not so wisely.
“Come on, let’s fucking go.” I listen to the guy, his receding hairline all I can see as he bends down, handcuffs me, and pulls me up by my collar. When this is all done, he’ll regret ever meeting me.
“How are your teeth?” I’m just inquiring for later.
“Shut the fuck up and walk.” With all the shit happening, I forgot that I’ve got fresh stitches on my ass, but my body remembers because I’m limping without even realizing it.
“Doin’ my best, boss.” I bet they’re mafia. Fucking hell, I thought Marco Mancini had eradicated the fucking Irish mob a while back. Guess these guys are like roaches; they can survive any fucking thing.
I wink at Kincaid, who’s being dragged beside me by the other nutwit, but she doesn’t grin the way I am. We’ll be fine. This is just a hiccup in a silly plan that should have included me in that hospital take down.
Fifty bucks says they’re going to feel really fucking guilty when they realize we were left vulnerable out here.
“Parker’s gonna be pissed off.” These are Kincaid’s first words and they have me laughing out right.
“Yes, she will be. And it’s gonna be fucking glorious.”
A short ride in the truck later, we’re locked up in a jail cell underneath a house.
Before they leave, they search us for phones, which pisses me off. After the last time one of us got snatched, we installed trackers on them all, so if they break it, the signal will die.
I’m not worried, though. The Reapers can find anything if it’s in any way connected to technology. We’ll be out of here by breakfast time.
“Now shut the fuck up. The boss will be here later.” See? Fucking mobsters. So cliché.
“Can we get some Egyptian sheets and a queen-size bed? My back has a hard time sleeping on anything smaller.”
“How about I blow your fuckin’ head off? How’s that for a queen size?”
I frown, taking the couple of steps I need to make it to the cell’s steel bars.
“Your jokes are about as stale as your breath.” I press my head against the bars and grit my teeth. Gone is the fun-loving Grinder. Enter the fucking unhinged motherfucker who rips teeth out for fun. “Just remember this moment when I’m taking a pair of pliers to your molars.”
The guy shakes his head and walks away, not taking my words as the warning they are.
“This is boring.” I turn to Kincaid and sigh. She’s not wrong, I expected blood and bruises.
“I know. Who knew the Irish were so good at self-control? All the movies show them as hot tempered. I’m really disappointed.”
“Yeah. I figured I could take them in a fist fight, but it took me by surprise when he shot his gun in the air.” Which explains the shot earlier and why no one was screaming out in pain.
“Same, little K-bird.” I grin when she growls through her teeth. “Sorry, just trying to amuse myself.”
“You’re bleeding.” Her tone isn’t scared or alarmed, it’s as neutral as Switzerland.
“Par for the course.” With my wrists bound behind my back, I can’t look at my palm, but I don’t feel any glass stuck in there. It’s no big deal, it’ll stop soon enough.
“They could’ve at least taken the handcuffs off.” I nod at our prospect and make a mental note to have her voted in. It’s time, she’s earned it.
“Yeah, Parker’s not gonna be a happy camper. She loves the way these jeans hug my ass.”
Before making it to the hospital and after we not-so-carefully planned out our Operation Get the O’Malleys, I hobbled my way back to my room and changed.
Both of my…life partners? Yeah, I’ll go with that.
Were asleep, so I quickly got changed into jeans and grabbed my cut.
It was the first time I wished I could skip out on club business just so I could slide in between them and sleep.
“This is stupid.” I raise my eyes to Kincaid, who sounds more human than ever.
“No use in wasting our energy, this’ll be over soon.”
The sound of keys in a lock and the opening of a door gets our attention. Kincaid turns and we stand side by side, waiting for whoever is about to visit.
“Mr. Russet.” My last name comes out of this guy’s mouth and it sounds weird, unfamiliar.
In part because I never hear it, Diego Russet isn’t how people address me on any normal day, but mostly because this dude is pronouncing with a crisp, monotone accent that rolls the R and places the stress on it like a boot to the neck.
Russian, no question about it.
What the fuck? Since when do the Irish work with the Slavs? Fucking traitors.
“And who the fuck are you?” My humor is gone. Either we start throwing punches and breaking limbs or we call it a night. This whole Spies-R-Us thing is getting old.
“I’m Viktor O’Malley.” That’s it. That’s all he says, as if his name is supposed to give me an ah-ha moment.
Although, if he’s here, then who’s at the fucking hospital?
Also, why the fuck is he dressed like he belongs on the movie set of the Ten Commandments?
A long cream colored robe and a brown linen sash draped over his shoulder.
“Didn’t you get your ass carted into an ambulance a few hours ago?”
“Ah, your boyfriend, yes?” I don’t answer him for obvious reasons, namely, fuck him and his motherland. “He’s of no interest to me, Mr. Russet. I want your girlfriend. And for that, I’m willing to trade.” I scoff.
“You can sit on a rusty sword and spin for a decade or two.” Both Spencer and Parker are asleep in my bed, so I’ve got no intentions of playing nice with this asshole. “There’s no fucking way you’re getting anywhere near them.”
“I thought you might say that. It’s disappointing that you’d be so predictable.”
“Fuck right off.” Raising my chin in defiance, I stand my ground with Kincaid showing the same amount of go fuck yourself energy to this guy.
“Bring her in.” I frown at his command, my mind spinning with all the possibilities. Who the fuck would he try to trade Parker for?
Vanessa? No, she and the Khaos Ladies are safe on the compound.
Mrs. Boner? Fuck, did he kidnap Boner’s mom as collateral? Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell am I supposed to do?
“Diego?” My heart freezes at the sound of Mia’s voice, my stomach dropping and my veins boiling.
“Get your fucking hands off of my sister.”