Grayson #2
Matteo’s at the door now, the handle creaking. I tackle him to the ground. We fight for dominance, but I win out easily. He did create this monster, after all.
“He’s at the doo—” I throw my palm over his mouth.
Bullets fire off again, shooting from every direction. The idiots are going to get us all killed. I use Matteo like a human shield and fling the door open, dragging us both out. The others hear the door and they start blasting shots in our direction.
“Fuck,” Matteo hisses when he catches a bullet to the leg, narrowly missing me. Bummer. I slam the door shut and reach around for the stool a guard was sitting on, wedging it under the door handle. It probably won’t do any good, but at least it will give me more time to get out of here.
I would look around for the best exit route, but I can’t see a damn thing. The only place I do know I can go for cover is the bathroom where I stashed my last two victims.
I drag Matteo down the hall and to the right, keeping a knife against his back and my hand over his mouth. I shoulder the door open and trip over something—not something, a body. This is a private bathroom, so I lock the door.
I pat Matteo down for weapons while he’s half out of it from the blood loss. I find two handguns and a knife strapped to him, and I slide them into my own waistband and then throw him to the floor.
“Well,” I chuckle, adrenaline surging through me. “Have you figured it out yet?” I ask, circling him like a wolf.
He chuckles something sinister, and it has the hairs on the back of my neck rising. “You think you have me beat, kid?” he hisses, coughing in pain. “You didn’t think I knew you would be coming for my blood one day?”
“Say it!” I yell, kicking him.
“The big.” Cough. “Bad.” Cough. “Mustang. Pathetic. All you’ll ever be is a hopeless boy who couldn’t take care of his family like a real man. What was her name again? Laine, was it?”
My foot strikes him again, harder. “Keep my sister’s name out of your fucking mouth,” I spit.
“Why would I when I own her? She’s alive because of me,” he growls, pushing himself up to sit.
“I worked my debt off. You don’t own shit.
You lied to me, pulled me into your disgusting schemes and prayed on a hopeless, desperate man.
How many others have you done this to, huh?
This ends now, and I’m going to have a smile on my face while I make you pay for your sins,” I declare, stepping closer. “It’s time to repay your debt, Matteo.”
Click. The lights shutter back on. Matteo sits sprawled in front of me with a sinister smile, holding a palm to his thigh wound.
“You think you’ve got me beat, kid? It’s over. My men have been alerted, and they’re on their way.” He points to his phone in his lap. “Any last words?”
“Yeah. Fuck you!”
I point my gun at him and fire off two shots. He uses the guard’s body as a shield, and both bullets narrowly miss. He has the guard’s gun in his hand in an instant, firing off a shot back.
Goddammit, why didn’t I search the guards for weapons?
I grunt when his bullet finds its way into my arm, just grazing me.
The bathroom is small, so there’s not much room to hide.
I’m tired of hiding, though. With Matteo’s injured leg, he has to scoot across the floor to avoid me. He doesn’t stand a chance.
“Pathetic,” I spit his words back at him. I shoot his hand holding the gun, and he wails in pain, his gun thudding to the floor. I kick the guard away from him so he can’t snag another surprise weapon.
“Any last words?” I smile down at him, just like I promised.
“Fuck yo—”
Click.
I fire off three shots. The first right in his dick. The next in his rotten heart. And one final one in the center of his forehead, ending him.
Alarms blare through the gala. It looks like the fucker did get off a text. Too bad they were probably too busy getting drunk and doing illegal shit to get to their prized leader in time.
Adrenaline like I've never felt surges through me. I quickly wipe myself down again and slip out of the bathroom, finding my way back to the kitchen. It’s finally over.
I blend into the rushing crowd, spinning around the workers. I catch someone looking at me with concern, and that’s when I remember the bullet wound to my arm.
Well, shit.
Sure enough, there’s a trail of blood leading them right to my crime scene. I drag my foot across the lake of blood like an idiot, smearing it as I walk. All it does is make it worse.
“Sorry for the mess,” I whisper to the mortified worker and slip out the door. I’m out to the car in no time.
“C’mon, where are you, Moretti?” I mumble under my breath. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, and, in five more, I’m sure this car will be getting stormed. I’m one more second before barging in there and finding him myself when I see his head pop out the door.
Moretti is dripping red from head to toe, his face a smattering of blood and…is that brain matter? He pulls two cuffed men behind him. It seems I wasn’t the only one who got up to trouble. I thought I would be greeted with a smile, but he looks like he’s ready to murder me.
“Where the fuck were you? Everything go okay?”
“No time,” he mumbles before shoving the two men my way. Their eyes are missing, tears of blood dripping down their faces, and they smell like piss. “Make it quick,” he threatens, getting into the car. I’m confused until I see their faces clearly.
“Please,” Rick whines.
“Go cry about it with Matteo,” I seethe. I don’t draw it out. I need their deaths. I put a bullet in his forehead, a matching one in Johnny's, and leave them for the animals.
I hop in the passenger seat and inspect Moretti more closely. His tie is loosened like he couldn’t breathe with it on. He cracks the leather of his steering wheel from his death grip.
“Talk to me. Do we need to be worried?”
He sinks into his seat. “No, they won’t come after us or go to the cops.
They keep these things in house. Can’t have cops looking elsewhere during an investigation and having their illegal dealings watched.
If we lay low and wait for them to elect a new leader, we should be fine.
Just don’t go looking for trouble, okay?
Stay home, keep your head down, and let me deal with the wreckage. Did anyone see you?”
I hesitate. “Define anyone.”
“Gray,” he warns. He’s not in the joking mood, it appears. Something definitely crawled up his ass in there.
“Thanks to your blackout, no one inside the room saw me. I moved Matteo to a different room before…disposing of him. As far as anyone seeing me, does an entire kitchen staff count?”
“What the fuck, Grayson!”
I throw my hands up. “Hey, it was my only escape route. They didn’t see me doing any killing, if that’s what you’re getting at, but I did drip a teeny tiny amount of blood in the kitchen that one or two of them may have seen. Hypothetically.”
“You’re injured?” His brows pinch.
“Graze of a bullet to my arm. Nothing I can’t handle,” I assure him.
“Good. And he’s really dead?”
“Dead as rotten roadkill,” I confirm, grinning. “I had to leave him behind, though. Are fingerprints and blood going to be an issue?”
“I’ll handle it,” he grunts.
“You gonna tell me why you look like you just attended a funeral?”
The steering wheel groans under his palms. “I was looking for something, and I failed to find it. Now I’m back to square one.”
Well that’s…vague. I won’t push him on it. When he needs my help, I’ll be there for him, just as he was for me. I owe him everything, and if all goes as he says and I get released soon, I’ll lay down my life for him for the freedom he’s gifted me.
“You can cash in the favor whenever you need, brother. Now, let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough blood on my hands for a lifetime.”
Moretti chuckles, but it's hollow as he floors it. “Let’s go home, brother.”