Margo.
Margo.
“Now is not the time to be cocky, Mr. Mitchell.”
I popped my jaw. “Says the fucker hiding out in a foreign country, starting over because he is too chickenshit to face his problems back home.”
The all too familiar sound of a bullet being loaded into a chamber filled the room then, the air going cold as death lingered in the doorway behind me. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and a second later, I stared into the barrel of a gun. It was only then, when a weapon was in my line of sight, that Jack stepped into the light. He was still thin, thinner than the last time I saw him, dressed in a cheap suit that hung off his shoulders like a used rag. His black hair was cut short, but dirty. The whites of his eyes were yellow; his skin tinted the same shade of rot. Last time we were together, I’d crushed his hands with a cement block, leaving him bleeding out on the floor of his castle, surrounded by drugs and bloodstained hundred-dollar bills. My eyes dropped. I didn’t give a shit about the gun or the punk-ass holding it to my face.
“Your hands heal up all right?” I drawled, tipping my head to Jack’s slacks, where he was hiding his hands.
His jaw tightened, but now that he was under the harsh light, the truth was damning.
He wasn’t on the run. He was trying to find somewhere to die.
“If death is what you’re searching for, I’m sure Collin would be happy to oblige.” I clicked my tongue.
“He’ll never get the satisfaction.”
I smiled at him, wide and sinister. “He will.”
Jack looked at his man. “You can kill him now. I’ve grown bored of this game.”
“Oh, come on, Jack,” I said, shifting my wrists for the thousandth time. “We were just starting to have fun.”
“Fuck you, Mitchell.”
From behind me, there was a near-deafening boom, the force of the explosion ramming my chair forward. I braced, using all my strength to twist in my binds, landing on my shoulder as chunks of the concrete wall landed all around me. I blinked, finding myself in a cloud of white smoke, with sparks in the distance and guns firing as Jack’s men screamed. They weren’t prepared. Not for this. Not for my team. The ropes at my wrists suddenly snapped, and I was free. I didn’t think, rolling away and getting to my feet fast. To my right, the man who’d put three bullets into Collin’s man aimed his gun at me. I advanced, pushing his arm aside, gripping his wrist, and twisting as I yanked him forward, my knee going into his abdomen. He grunted in pain as I kneed him again, forcing him into the wall, where I pinned his wrist and snatched the gun from his loose grip. I turned it on him, firing twice. Once in the shoulder, once in the thigh. Then I turned, finding my team. The smoke was clearing out, and I spotted Ash, his black and blue polycarbonate mask covering his face, dressed in full tactical gear.
He had his rifle hanging over his shoulder and his hand was around Jack’s neck, holding the man up so his feet dangled a foot from the floor. I brought my arm up, coughed into the crook of my elbow, pistol in hand, as Dominic approached me. He lifted his black and red mask, revealing his indigo eyes, his mouth tight with concern.
“You good?” he asked, putting a hand on my shoulder, scanning me quickly.
I nodded. “Didn’t expect you boys here so soon,” I told him honestly.
Ash spoke then, his voice brimming with malice, but he wasn’t talking to us. “You’ve been busy, Jack.”
The bastard didn’t respond, choking on the last bits of air Ash allowed him to have as his fingers flexed, tightening around the column of his throat. He jerked in Ash’s hold, his body bucking against the wall. As Dominic and I watched the show, he handed me my mask, the silver wings around the eyes, a symbol of home. “Put this on,” he instructed. “You’ve drawn the attention of some high-ranking players here.”
“That wasn’t me,” I told him, knowing he was referring to the small car bomb that Collin’s man set off in the middle of town a few days ago. “How did you find me?”
“Hell if I know,” Dominic muttered, reloading his gun before tucking it into the clip on his thigh. “Jake found your breadcrumbs; we just followed them. Usually, Ash is the one who likes to blow shit up.”
“Le—let go of me,” Jack sputtered, gasping for air.
The retired SEAL was toying with him now, torturing him a bit before we needed to hand him off. “We are under orders not to kill,” Dominic calmly reminded Ash as I put my mask on, my jaw sore.
“Collin still want him?” I guessed, tucking the gun into the waistband of my pants, ignoring the soreness in my body.
Dominic put his mask back on and looked at me. “What do you think?”
Ash raised his fist and clocked Jack in the face three times, knocking him out before dropping him to the floor. Then he turned, his chest heaving, and gestured to the body in the chair. “The mafia boss isn’t going to be happy about that.”
“Not our problem,” Dominic replied, his voice monotoned. “He knew the stakes.”
It was cold, but true.
“We need to take him,” I said, staring at the man. Though I didn’t know him and we hadn’t talked about anything other than the mission, I still valued his life. “Collin buries his men.”