Page 61 of Devil's Game

“What did I fucking say?!” The man waved a gun around, his buddies circling Mr. Richards like sharks scenting fresh blood. “Keep your voice down, otherwise I’m going to give you something to really scream about.”

My jaw clenched, my heart screaming at me to launch into action, but right now, we were outnumbered, and they were poised and ready, their guns at their sides, on guard after our attacks last week.

“I-I’m sorry,” Mr. Richards sputtered, his body shaking as he looked up at the men, his limbs curling in as he instinctively tried to protect his vital organs.

“We don’t need your apologies,” one of the men grumbled, crouching low so his gun hovered only a few inches from the older man’s face. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t—I don’t have it,” he stammered and winced. “Please, I thought—”

“You thought they were going to protect you.” The third guard chuckled darkly. “Well, where are they now?”

I gritted my teeth as Spade put a hand on my shoulder in warning. He must’ve already let our backup know that we’d found them. They’d be here any second, but could we afford to wait that long?

“Please, I didn’t—”

“We had an agreement, Richards. Didn’t we?” the first one asked, hauling him up by the collar of his shirt. “We told you that if you wanted to keep your legs, you had to have all the money ready, including the back payments you missed while we were on vacation.”

Spade’s hand shook, the only sign of amusement he’d let show. That’s how they were trying to spin it? That they were simply on vacation, and that’s why they hadn’t been collecting?

The henchman leaned in, his face mere inches from Mr. Richards’s as his eyes glinted with malice. “I guess we have to keep our promise. We wouldn’t want to be liars, now, would we?”

“P-please no, I can get it. I just need a few more days.”

“Time’s up.” He holstered his gun, the third one doing the same as he strode over to the trash cans.

And that was my cue. I slipped my gun out of its holster, knowing Spade would be right behind me—neither of us was known for our patience, anyway. It was the perfect moment, as two of the men were focused on Mr. Richards while the third had his back turned, pulling an aluminum bat from behind the trash cans.

I couldn’t suppress the grin that curled on my lips at the sight of it, the metal glinting in the glow from the back light. Before any of them could spot me, I aimed for the one closing in on Mr. Richards, in the hopes of restraining him, and pulled the trigger one, two, three times, each of them hitting their marks in his chest, shredding through his vital organs. He attempted to lifthis own gun, but it clattered onto the pavement as he peered at the blood spilling down the front of his white shirt.

The metal ringing of the bat hitting the ground rang off the sides of the buildings as the third henchman attempted to draw his weapons, but Spade’s gun was already aimed at him, a devious grin on his mouth.

“Put him down,” I instructed the one holding Mr. Richards as I aimed in his direction, my attention split between him and the one on the ground, his blood-soaked hands grasping at the wounds in his chest as he fell to his knees.

“Bitch,” he spat, glaring daggers at me. He gripped Mr. Richards, who winced as his collar dug into his wrinkled neck, even tighter. “You think I’m really that stupid? We heard what you did last week to our fucking friends. If I let him go, I’m a dead man.”

He had a point there.

“You’re dead either way.” I shrugged. “But at least if you put him down, you might have a chance at shooting me before I can put a bullet between your eyes.”

Finally remembering the gun holstered at his side, his fingers grazed the barrel, as though he was considering his options. In a flash, he released Mr. Richards, letting him tumble to the ground as he grappled for his weapon, but it was no use. My finger pressed the trigger the moment he released the older man. The bullet whizzed toward him, embedding itself right where I told him it would.

He weakly dropped his gun, the weight slipping from his fingers as the force of the lead plowed into him, sending him stumbling back a step. I quickly unloaded a few more bullets into his chest, just to make sure. He fell backward, his muscles unable to keep him upright as my shots hit their marks.

The seconds had felt like hours, my mind processing each detail until the world came slamming back into focus. Blood pooled around his body as he lay next to his friend.

“You need to get out of here.” I turned my steely gaze on Mr. Richards as he stared up blankly at me. Blood splatter coated his crooked glasses, his lips open and closing like a fish as he searched for the words. “Now.”

The barked order seemed to spark his survival instincts as he scrambled to his feet, not bothering to waste a moment locking up as he ran down the alley.

Scooping up the discarded guns, I strode over to the trash bins and tossed them in, taking my time as Spade held the third henchman at gunpoint.

“That’s my sugar,” Spade whispered conspiratorially, as though the man he was talking to wasn’t about to die. “Isn’t she marvelous? Wait, don’t answer that.” He glared at the confused henchman, who looked between us, apparently trying to keep up. “If you do, then I’ll have to kill you so much faster than planned.”

I couldn’t help but grin as I strode over to his side and placed a tender hand on his shoulder. This man just got me.

“It was annoying that we had to get rid of the other two so soon.” I pouted, fluttering my lashes at Spade before I looked at the henchman, who wasn’t sure if he should be confused or terrified. “See, he just gets me. He knew that we’d take our time with you. Send a message, you know, just like you wanted to do by breaking poor Mr. Richards’s legs.”

“Please, I’m just doing my job. You should know that more than anyone.” He retreated a step, his back hitting the hard brick.

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