Page 77 of No Promises, No Lies

A nearby container is open, its lid leaning against the side of the crate. Liam reaches in, pulling out a sharp looking military grade rifle. I lean forward, recognizing the Kalashnikov seal on the gun’s barrel. A Russian manufacturer. Koen and I exchange looks.Interesting.

And definitely something to discuss later.

Gunfire sounds ahead of us. Gunfire Alex quickly returns, providing us cover.

Koen motions for us to separate into two groups. We peel apart, using the crates to conceal our movements while the Italians continue to unload on the area we were just in.

Liam and Alex get off a couple of shots as they dash to the left while Koen and I proceed silently to the right. Alex takes one guy down with a clean head shot while Liam catches another fucker in the leg and he falls, his gun slides across the concrete floor.

A few more steps and we have a clear view of the main area of the warehouse.

There are three Italians left on their feet, two of whom are currently engaged in a firefight with Alex and Liam, facing away from us. The third, closest to us, stands guard over a girl at his feet.

I recognize the hell-raising brunette from the parking lot. She’s on her knees, clothes shredded—nearly naked. Rope binds her hands and feet together. Blood runs down her back from several raw breaks in her skin. I do a double take, spotting the whip still clutched in the burly guard’s hands.They were punishing her.

Koen acts before I can, standing up from where we are crouched behind the crates, moving quickly and completely exposed. His gun is trained on the man closest to the girl. I swear under my breath, scrambling to cover him. He lets loose two shots, hitting the man in both the knee and the hand holding thewhip. He collapses to the ground, howling, cradling his bleeding hand into his chest.

The commotion draws the last two Italian’s attention, giving Alex and Liam an opportunity to take them both out. Then it’s just the big burly fellow, currently sneering up at Koen’s gun from where he sits on the floor.

The furious look in my brother’s eyes gives me pause. It’s rare to see Koen’s emotions so plainly. No matter the situation, Koen always manages to remain focused and unfazed, always doing what needs to be done with cold, calculated precision. “Tie him up,” Koen growls before lowering to one knee and tending to the trembling girl on the concrete floor.

Liam and I heave the man up, shoving him into a nearby metal chair. He attempts to fight us, but injured as he is, he’s no match. I smile when my fist makes contact with his jaw. The satisfying crack of bone is music to my ears.

“You’re dead men,” He spits at us when Liam finishes securing his hands and feet to the chair. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Slowly, I pull down my balaclava and lower my hood, cocking my head to the side as I peer down at him. “The South Side is Irish territory,” I say, letting my lilting accent loose with my words. “And you don’t sound too Irish to me, do you now?”

The man has the good sense to shut his trap. His face pales.

“Call for backup,” Alex calls, returning from the back office areas. “There’s at least thirty girls back here.”

Liam swears, pressing his phone to his ear.

My blood is boiling with anger. It only grows hotter as I watch Koen help the girl to her feet, sliding his sweatshirt over her shaking, bloody body.

Grabbing a metal folding chair, I slide it around in front of the Italian, dropping into it so we are eye level. His eyes dart wildly around, searching for help that’s not coming. “Look, man,I—I’m just a hired gun,” he jumbles out. “I only do what I’m told.”

“And who does the telling?” I play with the gun in my hand, re-loading the cartridge.

His mouth snaps shut, a look of unease on his stupid face.

“Plot twist: it gets worse for you.” I click the safety off my gun. My eyes flick to his, trying not to smile at the growing look of dread spreading across his face. “Whatever comes out of your mouth next determines how much worse.”

He licks his lips.

“Whose warehouse is this?”

My man doesn’t miss a beat when he gives his answer, “Matteo Carroza.”

Pleased with the confirmation, I straighten, holstering my gun, and reaching for the baseball bat Liam found lying around somewhere.

“Wait, wait!!” The goon panics. His eyes flash between my face and the bat in my hands. “I have more—more information, please!” I let the bat swing in my hand. Round and round it circles; the Italian’s eyes watching apprehensively as I step closer to him.

“I’m waiting…” I tilt my head, watching as the man’s pants darken in his seat.

He looks between me and Liam, a pained expression on his face.

“Times up,” I grin, winding up the bat one more time.

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