“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 ismyproblem? Is this guy for real?
“You’remy 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 nothingbetween 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 inRush 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 isjust 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.