Page 102 of Gray Area

And I am betting that the fucker in front of me is one of those men.

“I said shut up,” he says through his teeth, “or I am going to fucking kill you! Just like my father should have fucking killed you!”

“Another failure for him?” I ask. “Palmer Lexington underestimated me, and thought I was just some thug who couldn’t figure out what he had done and expose him to the world.”

“That’s not what happened,” Heath hisses at me. “My father told me what happened, how you told lies about him and everyone believed them. He told me how you ruined his name, how no one trusted him after that.”

“How the hell did a street thug who owned some bars and buildings do that to the richest man in America?” I ask softly. My level voice and sensible questions are lighting up something within him. What his father told him can’t sound right to him now. I see him start to question what he knows.

“You, you told people. My mother said you had false documents. That—”

“Listen to yourself,” I say, shifting my shoulders and leg to incite more pain within me, more pain that can keep me going, keep me awake. I feel grogginess trying to come over me, but I can’t let this stop now.

“I know all about you! I know what you and your miserable mutt brothers—”

“Your father was a hustler far more than I ever was, plain and simple. He took people’s money and made himself richer. He stole patents and designs, offering to help people who didn’t know where to start, and destroyed legal documents in order to get what he wanted. Your father was more of a thug than I ever was!” I shout at the blithering idiot in front of me.

“No!” he shouts, firing off another shot in my arm.

I grunt out but I go on. “He took my father’s life savings and made a deal to give him stocks. He destroyed every document associated with it and the people who were involved in creating it. Hekilled peopleto keep money, to give you the life he had. That sweet life is all built on blood money. Built by taking advantage of hardworking, trying-their-best people. He took them out for his profit, for his gain.”

“No!” Another shot is fired into my chest this time, and that one sucks the wind out of me. I wheeze in and feel my head spin. That one might be the one. It might be over for me.

But Vivian is safe. Spots fill my vision as I suck air in.

Suddenly the door bursts open and one of my captor’s thugs rushes in. “They are coming in through the door, man! Just breaking it down.”

“So fucking stop them,” he shouts.

“Nah man, nah, they already took down the six guards outside.”

“Is it the police?” the captor demands, reaching for his phone, presumably to check his cameras.

“No, it’s private, some suits in SUVs, black vests.”

My brothers are here. I can rest, and maybe I’ll make it out of this after all. But I am okay if not. Because Axel and Slade will take this fucker down. And Vivian will be okay.

“Get the fuck out there before I shoot you!” Heath shouts at his worker. The man hesitates, but he reluctantly runs back the way he came. Heath looks at his phone, and a maniacal smile spreadsacross his face. “It is your goon brothers, but they brought someone else. Take a look.” He shoves the screen into my face, and I see Vivian surrounded by Falco security. They are trying to keep her back, but she is pushing her way past them.

Vivian. She is here.

She is in danger now. That thought courses through me, generating a newfound wave of alertness.

“Looks like your brothers brought your beloved to me,” Heath says with a new smile. “Fabulous news!” he adds, laughing now. He too seems to be regenerated from the defeat he was feeling just moments before. “Now, I can kill you in front of your brothersandher. Then I will kill your brothers and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with your girl. In fact, maybe I will keep her alive and make you watch before I kill you.”

This motherfucker is running on pure hysteria. He has nothing to lose. I know what that can do to a man—I had been that man. I glare at him and he glares right back, his crazed smile glued to his face.

A noise beyond the walls startles Heath, and I watch him lean to listen to the shouting and wails. Those are his guys, screaming like little bitches. No one from my organization would be that ridiculous. In his distracted frame of mind, Heath starts to mindlessly move away from the noise, his body responding to the fear he is feeling. Seems his crazy isn’t completely in charge.

And he’s put himself just in the reach of my legs.

I waste no time and use what little strength I have to shove my foot into his knee and send him crashing to the floor. The noise is coming closer outside, and the adrenaline running through him sends him standing up in one movement and putting a gun to my chin.

The door bursts open and Falco men come in, suited in swat gear with guns drawn.

“Come any closer and I’ll shoot him,” Heath shouts.

“Drop the weapon,” orders one of the guards, but Matthews shakes his head. The shake is erratic. He knows he is losing; he knows it has all gone downhill.

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