26. Chapter 23 - Lauchlan
T ap, tap, tappity, tap.
Tap, tap, tippy-tap, tappity-tippy, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap —Christ, this was boring.
How Mr. Roboto had convinced me to be the driver of this rescue mission that was sure to get us both killed—by Blondie, not any baddies—was still a mystery to me. I’d been wrapping up a goodbye lunch with Gertie, using the very bogus excuse that my work visa was no longer valid if my employer was incarcerated, when I’d received his text.
That the Robot had no one else to call on for this madness was not lost on me, but you could bet I’d take advantage of some bonding time with the broody no-longer-a-busine ssman. And we had a nice heart-to-heart alongside the mission. I was gonna be calling him Daddy in no time.
He’d been fucking forever, though. Nearly an hour, and unless he’d risked castration and get a rub-n-tug while he was in there—something that would really get him killed by Blondie—my spidey senses were telling me something was off.
I’d parked out of the way from the parking lot cameras peeping eyes at the rear of the building with a full view of the back door. For the first time in my life, I wished my car was a wee bit more discreet than M Americans loved their talk radio. News, news, and more news, except none of it was actually news—just the same rubbish shyte on repeat.
A shadow filled my driver’s side window and nearly tore me out of my skin. The door was yanked open and two large hands gripped my jacket and lifted me off my seat.
“What. In. The. Fuck. Are you doing here?” Kellan snarled through gritted teeth, his voice hovering between murderous and double murderous. I should be terrified of him—this Cartel killer who broke my beautiful nose and was double my size with triple the Big Dick Energy—but I wasn’t. The man was becoming a growly teddy bear toward me.
I was in for a world of pain, though.
“ Before you kill me...” I held up one finger to stop him, as pointless as it was. “Yeh should know this was not my idea,” I pointed the finger toward the building behind him, “and Roboto hasn’t come out in a while.”
“Fuck.” The Viking released me and dropped me to the ground, turning toward the building instead. “Fucking Rodriguez,” he cursed again. “Grab your fucking gun. We’re going in.”
Three musketeers for the win today. Never would have predicted this outcome, but I was down to clown.
“Okay, so there’ll be three funerals on the docket today.” I reached for the gun under my seat and slid out from between the car and Kellan’s massive bulk, ready for the showdown of a lifetime. “Fucked if I do, fucked if I don’t. Might as well go out with a bang.”
The blond baddie was ignoring me, glaring at the building like it owed him money.
“I know the layout of this club,” he said in a low growl. “It was originally built with Antonio’s blessing. We’ll start with the private suites on the lower levels—it's where they beat the shit out of the Johns who get too carried away.”
“What makes you think he’ll be there?” I followed his lead as we walked casually to the rear door as if we belonged there. I attempted to hide my face from the cameras by burying my nose in my coat collar.
“It’s where I’d take him.”
Fair enough.
He attached a slick device onto the electronic keypad, and numbers lined up in sequence like we were in the mafia version of the Matrix.
“Fecking sweet!” I exclaimed, impressed. “I need to get my hands on one of those.”
“Come on,” Kellan beckoned me inside, then closed the heavy steel door behind us. We were at the end of a long, dark corridor, with not a single soul to be seen.
Thank you, universe.
I e njoyed a good adventure like the best of con men, but I was unprepared to die today. I’d suddenly found a few things to live for, and I hoped to enjoy a few more tastes of Hillary’s heaven before I was put into the dirt. Or a pond or… whatever method of death Aaron’s family liked to deal in.
I really wasn’t keen to find out either way.
“Wait,” I hissed, realization dawning on me. “How did you find us? Weren’t you with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum-Dum today?”
“I had them come to me,” he grunted, creeping down the hallway on stealthy feet for such a big fuck. “I don’t like being too far away from Killer right now.”
“And you tracked me?” I guessed as I pointed to my arm, knowing full well the broody, controlling motherfucker would have been watching my every move now he knew my true identity. “Can’t keep your eyes off me, eh, Conan?”
I received a serious case of pissed-off mafia man side-eye, and it only made the man hotter than Hell in a heat wave. But he ignored me, because the man had the self-control of a vegan on a bacon farm.
We rounded a corner, still seeing no one—did anyone actually work here?—and he led us down another short hallway to a gloomy concrete set of stairs. “Good thing I am. Thanks to you, this stupid fucker is going to get himself killed.”
We descended the super creepy steps into the sex dungeon below. The Barbarian was riveting to watch in action. All muscles bunching and radiating “don’t fuck with me” energy while he prowled through the building like we were on an episode of Blue Lights. Had there ever been a mafia-man/FBI combo before? Stuff of a Hollywood movie, that. And fuck me, I wanted to know the story.
At the bottom of the stairs was another windowless corridor that looked like it had been intentionally left to look creepy, down to the swinging bare bulbs from the ce iling and the crumbling plaster walls. I held my gun tighter, keeping my guard up as I heard the soundtrack in my head to some horror film where the daft brunette gets gutted by the killer.
I covered his back while he peered into the tiny windows at the top of each metal door on either side of us.
“Mr. Roboto doesn’t feel much for anything,” I whispered conversationally, despite the creepy murder vibes. “Gotta wonder why he’d risk it all for this—”
“Hold it,” Kellan hissed as he peered through a metal door’s teeny window. “We’re here.”
Adrenaline burst through my brain like tiny little fireworks. We’re here? Did that mean Aaron was just sitting back, having a yarn with another baddie sexpot and forgot the time or—
Kellan let out a string of colorful Spanish curses as he kept to the side of the door, motioning for me to do the same.
The glass shattered outward and smothered the two of us in teeny shards. I rolled to the left while Kellan leaped to the opposite side as a tiny bullet lodged itself into the opposite wall.
Without pausing, the Viking crept low and shot the door handle clean off. He only made eye contact with me for a split second before he kicked in the door and rolling through it like Mark Wahlberg in—anything Mark Wahlberg’s ever done.
Another stifled pop of a silenced pistol echoed through the chamber, and I cursed colorfully in English before crouching low and following in after him to cover his arse; I didn’t even think these two liked each other, and now my blond buddy was just going in, guns-a-blazing, to rescue a bloke who’d brought a knife to a gunfight.
Bet ya he wouldn’t be risking his neck to save me. Good thing I was the hero type and would throw myself into chaos to save him instead.
I m ean, don’t threaten a mate with a good time.
The dark room reminded me of the basement Kellan had attempted his sexy torture session in—dim, dank, and dirty. A lone figure slumped in the center, head hung like he was already a corpse.
Fuck.
Kellan fired another shot, and in a blinding blur of motion, a tiny figure slipped behind me and wrapped dainty little arms around my neck. Before I could fight them off, cool metal kissed my temple.
“Drop it, Kellan,” a calm, feminine voice commanded as she wrapped her arm tighter into my windpipe, choking me out and bringing me to my knees within seconds.
Not even in the action for two seconds, and I was already the sitting duck. I needed to up my assassin training skills when I got us out of this one.
I was a wee bit worried about me, but more worried about the man who hadn’t even moved since we’d come into the room. The air smelled of gunpowder and metal, and whatever sweet perfume the lass behind me was wearing. Not like death yet, but that was coming.
“Carmen,” he replied, his gruff, growly voice his version of calm. “Care to explain what you’re doing with Aaron Rodriguez?”
What the—he knew this woman? If air wasn’t being cut off from my brain, I might have put two-and-two together but—
“Care to explain why you are after a dead man that you were already to have killed?” she countered, her lips purring the words into the shell of my ear as her grip tightened even further.
Ahh . So, she was a baddie for the Cartel. Didn’t need the old oxygen to make that connection. That wasn’t good. If they knew Kellan hadn’t killed Aaron like he said he did then…
Time for Plan B .
Kellan, if you can read my mind right now, you stall her while I play dead.
I willed my muscles to go limp in her hold and dropped to the concrete floor like a stone, pretending to pass out sooner than she expected. Her grip loosened in surprise, giving me just enough wiggle room to buck her off my back. The move propelled her forward into the empty space between me and the big oaf.
She was quick for a tiny thing. Before I could re-grip my weapon and point it at her, she sprang to the side and whipped around, her gun pointed at me, and another smaller pistol pointed at Kellan.
It’d be fucking impressive if it wasn’t my life on the line. We were in a triangle stand-off, and currently, one of us was going to end up dead.
I finally got a good look at her. Pretty, with long dark hair and dark eyes, and a snarl that rivaled my Blondie’s when she was pissed off. I’d hedge my bets with the woman of my dreams, but somehow, I didn’t think that sort of charm would work on this one. She seemed more of the psycho-twin type.
Everyone, remain calm.
To be fair, I appeared to be the only one freaking out.
“Carmen,” Kellan commanded again and his voice rang with authority like a true cartel king. “Stand down on this one. You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”
“You are wrong, Careverga .” Her gaze trailed over to Aaron’s lifeless body; while she was distracted, I snuck a peek, too. His head hung limp to his chest, with bloody gashes showing through his clothes all over his body; my favorite suit ruined.
Not the point, Locke.
The brunette turned her attention back on us with a hard, no-fucks-to-give stare. “I do not want to make an enemy of Antonio. And since he has already signed this check, I intend to follow through.”
Bef ore I even blinked, she dropped to the ground, swapping out the tiny pistol for a knife in her boot. She threw it in Aaron’s direction at the same second Kellan shot her in the shoulder.
She let out a howl of pain, but before she could retaliate, I shot her in the thigh. The small-caliber round pierced through her flesh, crippling her and sending her to the ground. Kellan’s gun had a silencer; mine did not. The sound ricocheted in the small room and blasted my eardrum, definitely letting everyone know in the building we were here for a not-good time.
We needed to get the fuck out of here now. I didn’t think brothels would call the police, but they probably had their own reinforcement, and I wasn’t keen to meet them.
I turned to my most unlikely partner in crime. “You deal with her, I’ll get the Robot.”
I spun on my heel to run to Mr. Roboto’s aid, only to see his body curled into a ball on the floor, his arms and legs unbound. In the chaos, I hadn’t heard him crash out of the chair.
Had the fucker been pretending to pass out? Or came to while we were there? It was the only way to explain how he’d avoided a knife to his chest. He’d fooled me—but that older stab gash in his stomach was definitely not a sham. It was too close to his liver to be a flesh wound.
His skin was as pale as mine, which on the well-tanned Colombian, meant he was in a very bad way. Panic, real and raw, crept into my belly.
“He needs a doc, Kellan, now. ”
The man was at my side in an instant, moving me out of the way before gently hauling Aaron upward to carrying him bridal-style. I ripped off the sleeve of my jacket and held the fabric to Aaron’s stomach, but the blood loss was already so great I didn’t know if pressure would make a differ ence.
I didn’t want Aaron to die. I didn’t want Hillary to kill me, and I didn’t want him to die.
Carmen—whatever the hell her name was—laid out on the floor, weapons removed, with hateful eyes watching us. Her wounds would heal, and apparently the Barbarian was more concerned about saving Aaron than killing her. I was on board with that plan.
“This isn’t over, Kellan,” she spat, her threat so jagged it could slice through steel.
Instead of replying, he took off on a light jog down the hall. Should I kill her, or…?
“Kill her!” Kellan bellowed, his voice carrying down the hall as I stared dumbly at the beautiful assassin.
Answered that question, then. Fuck. I’d never killed a woman before. Never actually murdered anyone —injured, sure. Maimed—once or twice. The most brutal I’d ever been was stabbing that fucker in the dick who’d hurt Blondie, but he’d already been dead.
I’d never taken a life. That wasn’t my bag—I ruined rich lives by taking their precious little billionaire possessions, but murder…
I stared into her violent eyes; loathsome hate stared back at me, like I’d already killed her entire family and stolen her puppy, too.
A kill shot would be a kindness. I wanted her to hurt for what she’d done to our third musketeer, but I couldn’t watch the life leave her eyes while I did it.
I aimed at her heart, fired, and spun on my heel, unwilling to see the aftermath of what I’d done. Watching Aaron strip another human differed from putting the bullet into the heart myself.
Apparently, my stomach wasn’t as iron as I thought.
I chased Kellan back up the stairs, keeping my gun at the ready in case we encountered anyone.
We didn’t see a soul until we got to the second corridor. Three women in skimpy suits screamed in fright when we raced through the hallway to the rear door, but they did nothing to stop us. I ran in front of Kellan to hold open the door for the two of them, and we rushed out into the parking lot.
Aaron had passed out again, his limp head bobbing up and down in Kellan’s arms.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Kellan raced to his own vehicle, and I followed him, climbing into the driver’s seat of the Jeep while he laid Aaron down on the backseat. He jumped into the passenger seat without complaint.
“Where am I going?” I was desperate to get out of here, but had no idea where to go. We couldn’t risk being followed back to Hillary’s condo, and Kellan’s house was too much of an obvious target.
Kellan reached back to press his hand on Aaron’s wound, applying pressure as our passenger let out a groan of agony in his barely conscious state. “Hillary owns his old warehouse now—the one you followed us to. She finished the construction contract, so we’ll lie low there for now.”
“He’d gonna die without a doctor, Conan.” I couldn’t keep the worry out of my voice, my heart actually tugging for our android side-kick.
“I have someone I can trust,” Kellan grunted, pulling out his phone with his other hand. “I’ll have them meet us there.”
“Tell them to bring blood—loads of it. He’s gonna need a transfusion.”
I received a somber nod as I peeled out of the parking lot toward the warehouse; that one night changing my life all those months ago. I’d chosen my fate when I joined Fight Club then—and now that we’d been bonded in blood, I wasn’t willing to let him go just yet.
We’d get Aaron the medical attention he needed, and then when his life wasn’t on the line, we’d come up with a plan.
Fuc k… who was going to tell Blondie?