Page 96 of Vicious Souls

“She’s King now, is she?” He’s mad beyond all reason. “I see it didn’t take the slut long to spread her legs for you.”

I lunge at him, but I’m slowed down by two men who move forward and hold me back. I hadn’t even seen them creep up on me. They don’t make any move to reach for my firearms. Tate lowers his rifle, places it muzzle down and leans against the butt like he’s enjoying a round of golf as he catches up with an old friend.

“So, you’ve gone and fallen for the little hellion,” he says. “How dumb could you possibly be?”

“What do you want, Tate?”

“Nothing that you can give me, Accardi,” he sneers. “I want what’s rightfully mine.”

“And that would be…?”

“The old fuck wrote me out of his will.She…” he points in Kingsley’s direction “killed my one and only daughter!” he roars.

There is so much anger and spite and retribution in his voice, I wonder how the man’s still standing upright with that much venom swimming in his bloodstream.

“A daughter you manipulated for your own purposes,” I remind him. “What did you think would happen?”

“She wasn’t supposed to deviate from the script.” Is this fucker actually whining to me about what his daughter did?

“Was King supposed to lay down and let her kill her?” I bite back. He ignores my question and redirects the conversation to suit his own selfish needs.

“There is no valid reason for cheating me out of 25 years of service. Of putting up with his bullshit.”

“That’s something you’ll have to take yo with Maddog when you meet him on the other side.”

“Mine!” he screams. “He deprived me of what wasmine.Left it all to that sniveling upstart of his.”

“Do you want it, Tate?” I turn at the sound of King’s voice. “Is that what you want?”

“King,” I breathe, my heart knocking between my ribs as an overwhelming sense of fear overtakes me. She is going to get herself killed. And there is not a damn thing I can do about it. “King, don’t.”

Tate lifts his rifle and aims it in King’s direction, then moves it and aims it at my heart.

“First thing’s first,” he says, squinting in my direction. “I want you to watch me kill the man you believe saved you so you can suffer the way I suffered over Fiona. I want towatchyou suffer. And when you’re in the throes of your own misery, I will put you out of your madness with the mercy of a bullet to your heart.”

With Tate’s gun trained on me, King’s stricken eyes are focused on me, beside herself with what’s happening. She, like me, doesn’t see a way out of this.

“No,” she whispers, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. “I’ll sign everything over to you,” she offers. “I’ll walk away from everything. Just let him go.”

Tate shakes his head like a madman and reminds her that someone has to die here today. An eye for an eye and all that, he reminds us.

“You think I actually believe Accardi will let me live if I let him walk away from here today?” He shakes his head in understanding. “It’s too late for that. One of us has to die. And I don’t intend on joining my daughter any time today.”

“Don’t do this, Tate.”

He scoffs. “So the sniveling child has finally developed a heart. I’m glad someone could thaw that ice in your veins.”

“You always were a bastard,” she yells, her voice rising. “I don’t know why I thought you could be reasoned with.”

The rage in Tate swims to the surface, and he cracks his jaw, fixing King with a frozen look before he looks back to me and adjusts the rifle against his shoulder.

“Any last words?” Tate asks, raising his eyebrows at me. He has every intention of shooting me.

“See you in hell,” I tell him, breaking free of the men holding me back with a surge of strength. “King, down!” I scream, ducking as I reach into my holster for my guns, bringing them out as a spurt of gunfire breaks out. It’s quick and loud and spontaneous, and it dies down as quick as it starts. I look up and find King sprawled on the ground, a man’s body covering hers. She is squirming, trying to get up. I take a quick look in Tate’s direction, find that he’s gone down and there’s a man pointing a gun at his writhing body. It’s Samuel Ford. He turns to me, smiles like he’s the devil incarnate, then fires off a round into Tate’s body. I watch as Tate’s body quakes with every additional bullet that riddles his limbs. Even I, having seen everything I’ve seen in my years, have never seen anything like the deliberate carnage that Ford inflicts on an already dead body. The man is a monster.

81

KINGSLEY

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