“I thought we weren’t supposed to meet like this anymore?” he asks Xav, scanning the room.
Still pointing his weapon at Tray, Xav shrugs casually. “You never fully get out.”
“True,” the mountain man replies. And he is that, a mountain. He had to duck to get through the doorway. Thick, bushy beard, shaved head, T-shirt stretched thin everywhere, black latex gloves, combat pants and boots. A hefty-looking duffel bag.
Who the hell is this guy?
“We doing a relocation or a disposal? I wasn’t sure what you needed, so I came prepared for both.” Mountain Man’s gaze lands on Emmy, then to the vomit on the floor, and I shift to block his view of her. “She okay?”
“Disposal? What the fuck do you mean by that?” Tray demands in a high-pitched voice before anyone can respond to Mountain Man.
Everyone turns to look at the sack of shit sitting on the floor. His eyes have gone wide and a little wild, his whole body twitching and sweating.
Xav eyes him. “Disposal.”
“What the fuck? No! I’ll disappear. What was the other thing? Relocation. That, I’ll do that. Fuck, please.”
I watch in real time as he pisses himself, the dark patch on his pants spreading with every second, still blubbering about not wanting to die.
“Okay, can we get moving with this? He’s just making more mess for me to clean up,” Mountain Man says, gesturing with one hand to get things moving.
Xav looks at Derek and me. “Take her out to the car, I’ll be right behind you.”
I glance at Mountain Man, then back to Xav. “You sure?”
He gives me one of those smiles he does, where it looks like he is laughingatme, notwithme. “Yes.”
Fucker. Fine.
“Hudson?” I ask as Derek and I start to move toward the doorway still occupied by Xav’s friend.
Hudson glances at Xavier, who nods. “Leave the rag.”
“Did you get any blood on you?” Mountain Man asks.
Hudson checks the front and back of his hands, then checks his clothing. “It doesn’t appear so.”
Mountain Man nods and finally, fucking finally, gets out of our way. I lower the weapon so that it’s pointing at the ground before leading the way out, my eyes barely needing to adjust to the darkness before we get to the front door.
I pull up short on the top step of the stoop when I see another guy, dressed in all black, leaning against a second black SUV, arms folded over his chest as he watches the house. He doesn’t move as I start to descend the couple of steps and just watches us from his perch as we head to Derek’s car.
“Keys are in my left pocket,” Derek says quietly once we get to his vehicle.
Hudson fishes them out and unlocks the car, the sound ricocheting through the dead neighborhood. Opening the back door, he holds his hands out to take Emmy, but Derek shakes his head and takes a seat in the back.
I know it’s ridiculous, but of all the things that have shocked me tonight, Derek getting into the back seat of his car might take first place.
Hudson meets my gaze, and I can see his own amazement. “I guess I’m driving, then.”
A smile tries to form on my lips, but I’ve got nothing. My entire heart is inside that car, and all I want is to be with her.
With quick strides, I get to the other passenger door and climb into the back seat with Derek, Emmy’s feet between us. “How’s she doing?”
Hudson opens the driver’s door, and we all hear the barely there sound of a gun being fired again before the door shuts.
“She hasn’t opened her eyes.”
My throat aches as I force a swallow and gently take hold of her ankle, smoothing my thumb over the joint. “It’s going to be okay, princess. We’re here now. It’s all going to be okay.”