Page 53 of Vicious Souls

“Is that so?”

“You’ve wanted the docks for years. Now here’s your chance.”

I shake my head and cluck my tongue. Little does he know.

“We no longer want nor need the docks,’ I tell him.

There is a split second in which surprise coats his face, before he quickly rights his expression and stands to his full height. He does not believe me.

“You don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not selling you the docks. I’mgivingthem to you.”

“It’s you who doesn’t understand. We no longer want the docks. Nor do you have anything else that we want or need.”

“Then why all the interest in my girl here?” he asks, moving the gun between the strands of Kingsley’s hair. Like a lover playing with his woman’s halo. He raises a good point. Why else would I be here if not for the docks?

“My interest lies with the man who mounted the attack on my home, shooting it to pieces. You overstepped when you came into my home.”

Tate cocks his head to the side and looks at me with quiet interest.

“What’s this really about?” he asks, wrapping a hand around one side of Kingsley’s face in mock adoration.

“Let the girl go, Tate.” It aches to refer to her as ‘the girl’, but I have to disconnect and show him that she means nothing to me so he doesn’t think he has the upper hand.

“I can see she’s become an asset to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here if you no longer want the docks.”

I work my jaw. Tate is the surprise I hadn’t seen coming. I had underestimated him every step of the way, and he in turn had wreaked havoc on us, a crime which would not go unpunished.

“I’m here because you killed some of my best men. You came into my home –my home,” I roar “and you destroyed it. You also tried to kill me.”

“All in a day’s work.” He wipes at his brow at the non-existent sweat and looks at me cockily.

“We have a score to settle.”

Tate shrugs. Like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he knows I wouldn’t actually make a move with Kingsley sitting between us, a gun pointing at her temple. I look down at her, notice her eyes as she looks at me, unblinking. The fear is gone. In its place is a look of unwavering strength, determination, and defiance. Her expression tells me to do what I need to do. She isn’t angry at me. She may be hurt, but her mind is clear enough to know what has to be done. And the evil in the room is standing right beside her – even she knows this. She realizes she has more to lose with Tate in her life than with me by her side.

Before I can make a move toward him, all hell breaks loose. Sudden shooting alerts us to the dangers outside the confines of the hangar. Kingsley topples on her side, still tied to the chair, pushed out of the way by Tate as he aims his gun toward me and takes his best shot. The bullet merely grazes my shirt, and I shoot at him before I duck behind the truck. I can hear scuffling, and hope to God it is Kingsley dragging herself out of the line of fire.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Tate singsongs, his voice taking on a maniacal tone. “We have a game to play, remember?”

“No games here, Tate,” I yell over the din of the battle being waged outside. “Only one of us will walk out of here alive today.”

“I haven’t made arrangements for my funeral,” he yells, his voice nearing my location. I am glad he is no longer in close proximity to Kingsley. “So I guess I’ll be attending yours.” The arrogance. I pull my back off the truck at the same time that a spray of bullets comes thundering towards my feet. It’s now or never. Gauging the direction from which the bullets have come, I run out from behind the truck, my guns cocked and held aloft. He stands ten feet away, his gun aimed in my direction. In that split second, before I have time to think, I pull the trigger and continue running across the open expanse of the hangar until I reach another vehicle parked close by. I inch my way around the vehicle, moving stealthily as I consider my options. I am still in recovery mode after being shot – the last thing I need now is to get shot again and set my recovery in reverse. I straighten my back against the van and take a few deep breaths, before I inch back toward the open arena, turning my head in the direction where I’d left Tate.

“Maddog warned me about you being one tough son of a bitch. He said the Accardis would be hard to kill.”

Tate’s voice reaches me from somewhere behind the truck I’ve been lurking behind. His breaths are labored as he speaks, stunted in a way that only a bullet can cause. I can’t confirm that he’s been shot, nor where, but all indications are that he is injured.

“It’s good to know I was able to maintain my reputation while your boss was alive.” I emphasize the word boss, letting him know in my own kind of way that I would always see him as less than. “He couldn’t have meant much to you if you were willing to use his daughter as leverage to get what you want.”

“I did what I had to do,” he breathes out.

“No. You’re a disloyal rat who bit the hand that fed you. You tried to kill his daughter and now you’re trying to give away what’s rightfully hers. You’re as low as they come; I don’t know why Maddog didn’t put a bullet in you before he passed.”

“You have no idea what I’ve had to endure for that man over the years,” he spits out.

“That was your choice.”

Even though we both know there are no choices in our world. Once you are in the business, you are in for life. Getting out of the mob life is not an option. Ever. No matter who you are.

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