Page 14 of Hostile Love
“Don’t shoot…please.”
He lowers his blade, understanding a knife means shit when my finger is on a trigger.
“I have a kid at home. A daughter. We need the money.”
“Kill her, for fuck’s sake, Jonny,” Toño pants, his face growing paler.
“Drop the blade and give me the cuffs.” I hold my hand and crook my fingers. “Now.”
I silently recoil inside when he swallows, drops his only weapon, and obediently hands over the cuffs, a look of terror clouding his eyes.
In truth, I could kill them both and walk away. However, something stops me.
Maybe it's their age or the fact we’re caught up in this world through bad choices––or not having any choice at all.
Doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft. I’ve just tapped into a little piece of compassion that’s been absent in my life for far too long.
“On your knees,” I mutter, pointing the gun at him.
Moving quickly, I slap the cuffs on their wrists, linking them together and steal their cell phones.
With Jonny kneeling beside his friend, I snatch the blade from the floor, position his hand on top of his thigh and stab right through, pinning the two limbs together.
His howl sings in my veins and I smile inwardly.
Sometimes inflicting pain is more satisfying than cold-blooded murder. Plus, they wouldn’t get far in this state.
I rise and stare at them for a split second, my heart pounding from the stench of spilled blood and my little victory.
“Next time, I’ll empty a clip in your foreheads, comprendes?”
Toño spits at my boots, his temple beaded with sweat and his teeth bared. Not caring, I extract the SIM cards from each of their phones, drop the devices, and stamp my boot down hard.
Once they’re well and truly smashed, I flip up my middle finger and back up to the door, slamming it shut on my way out.
The constant chaos of gunfire echoes everywhere.
Looking left, then right, I see shadows at one end of the hallway. With only a handgun and a few bullets to protect me, I dart in the opposite direction and follow the turns.
Despite not knowing where the hell it would take me, my body tingles. Not from fear. Fuck no, from the rush of danger I’ve grown accustomed to, and the desire to prove myself a worthy opponent to each and every fucker who thinks I’m their prey.
In no time, I’m facing a fire escape door, kicking the metal push bar and standing back when it flies open.
Quickly scanning the loading bay area packed full of cargo containers and trucks, I take a beat to study the silver clad exterior checking for snipers. Confident there aren’t any on the roof, I bring my focus back to the ground and hunt for a suitable place to take cover.
Ready to get the hell out of here, I duck low and crouch behind a wooden pallet. A plastic membrane’s wrapped around the cargo, and I use the shadow it creates to hide in.
Intermittent shots are fired and men yell.
At this point, I don’t trust anyone.
All I can do is stay in position, observe, and figure out if any of these guys are my soldiers on a rescue mission. After my assessment, I come up with a plan to get out of here alive.
Overhead, the sky is clear and blue. The late afternoon sun dapples patches of light on the concrete and glints on the windshields of parked trucks lined up in an orderly sequence.
They’re like lighthouses warning of the danger all around me.
In the distance, a handful of men dressed in normal clothes pour out from behind a truck near the boundary fencing.
