Page 22 of Five Fingers of Death

“I think the fact that they’re hanging over vats of boiling acid is scary enough.”

Fox stared at me, then tossed his head back and guffawed. “Man, you crack me up. No, I mean the guys you’re trying to scare off. The baddies. You know, the ones we’re filming this for.”

Shit, I kinda forgot about that part. “Right, I knew that.”

“So, style is everything. Are you all mad ranger hell bent on killing and murder? Or perhaps you’re the Twizzler killer? Huh?” he grinned. “That’d be pretty cool.” Then he frowned. “Better yet, better leave that one for me. I like that.”

“Twizzler killer? Is he fucking serious?” Red muttered.

“It’s Fox. Of course he is,” I hissed.

“Maybe you should let him do this. He’s got this all mapped out in his head already,” Eli said, leaning in closer. “Besides, he’s pretty on edge. I’m not sure you’ll even get a chance to do anything. You’d be lucky if he didn’t drop you in there with them.”

He did seem a little on edge today, but it was hard to tell with Fox. He always seemed a little on edge. Did anyone ever really know when Fox was about to snap?

“So, what’ll it be, pal?”

“I think I’ll just play it serious and pissed off.”

Fox’s face fell as he took in my words. “Yeah, okay. I mean, it’s your kill. I guess we can do it that way.”

“You’ll be okay. I promise.”

He actually looked like he wanted to cry, and for a second, I thought about giving in, but sanity won out. My eyes slid closed and I went back to that day in the bar. I remembered the look on my old man’s face when he was about to tell me who was behind The Syndicate.

Shadow.

The smell of blood washed over me. The dead look in the senator’s eyes, as I held him in my arms, filled my mind. His casket sinking into the ground, and the final words I spoke to him ran through my head on repeat. The glint of the sniper rifle just before that final shot was fired that nearly took my life…

I let it all fill me up with rage, and then I opened my eyes and stared at the assassins in front of me.

I was no longer the senator’s son.

I wasn’t the happy-go-lucky guy at OPS.

I had nearly lost everything because of the men in the shadows, and it was time to send my own message.

“Oh, shit,” I heard Red mutter as I stepped forward.

I slid my knife from my sheath as a slightly sadistic grin made my lips twitch.

I finally understood it all.

The acid barrels.

The need to kill.

The songs and the Funyuns.

The throwing knives—and all the women he adopted.

Those things shaped Fox into the man he was—a fierce and loyal protector and friend. Yes, he was a crazy bastard, but he was our crazy bastard.

But as much as I appreciated his help, this was my kill—my message to send, and I would relish every second of it.

And I’d do a fucking dance with Fox at the end of it.

5

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