Page 78 of No Apologies
He breathed a sigh of relief at the permission to go home and be with Skylar. He hadn’t expected Lincoln to understand, but he did. In fact, his cousin had seemed to get how much Colt needed to keep her safe all along. It made him wonder if Lincoln had ever had someone he loved like that. He couldn’t remember there ever being any one particular girl in Lincoln’s life but his cousin more secretive than the CIA so who knew.
Colt mentioned his thanks and reminded them to call him when they found anything before hanging up. When he dropped his phone, he groaned at the streak of paint staining it. He glanced at his hands and cursed. Damn it, his phone was a piece of shit but it was all he had. He headed to the back to wash up.
Once he did that he’d see about cleaning off the phone and then he’d call and check on Skylar. Maybe he’d grab some food to take home and they could have a late dinner together. That was something couples did, right?
He was new to the whole relationship thing. Sex. One night stands. Those were his forte. This, building something important, was something he was going to have to work at one day at a time.
He found some acetone under the sink and scrubbed his hands. For an artist, he’d made a damn mess with the paint. He almost chuckled at the thought, remembering how Skylar liked to make fun of his penmanship for that very reason. She’d no doubt laugh at this too when he told her about it.
After a few minutes of scrubbing he shut the water off and his ears twitched in the echoing silence. Only it wasn’t silent. He could hear the distinct sound of footsteps on the concrete floor. He swiped a towel over his wet hands as he stepped back out into the main room. He was expecting to see his brother since Lincoln had said Remy was on his way but he stopped in his tracks at the sight of multiple figures he didn’t recognize crowding the front lobby.
“Hey guys. We’re closed.”
His gaze winged around the room, taking stock. There were three of them. It wasn’t uncommon for his customers to wander in as packs. Most people wanted a buddy there with them when they permanently altered their body. But something about these guys made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he didn’t like that he was outnumbered.
His phone was still on the counter where he’d left it across the room. Even if he could get to it, he wasn’t sure what good it would do. If these guys were here to cause trouble, like he thought they were, then he wouldn’t have time to dial let alone wait for someone to get here to help him.
“Yeah, we noticed.” The guy near the doorway sneered.
Colt clenched his fists, “Something I can help you with?”
“Oh, I think so.” The guy spoke again, “You’re gonna give your cousins a little message for us. Tell ‘em that if we lose money, they lose money. And when our guys turn up broken, their guys end up broken too.”
The man standing behind the newly rebuilt counter stepped around it, showing his hands for the first time and Colt’s muscles tensed. He was holding a baseball bat. This was an ambush. Something in his gut had told him that from the second he walked out here but that didn’t change things.
He was alone. He was outnumbered. And from the sound of it, they intended to damage a lot more than just the furniture this time.
Three on one. He’d had worse odds. But then the only guy that had spoken jerked his gaze up over Colt’s shoulder.
“You got him, Bug?”
“Yeah.”
There was a fourth! His brain screamed at him for not paying attention. Colt jerked sideways and just barely avoided the fist being leveled at his head. Shit! They’d gotten behind him and he hadn’t even noticed. Whirling around was a bad idea, it put the other three at his back, but instinct was instinct and it gave him a good look at the one they’d called Bug.
Confusion tumbled through his head as he backed away, arms coming up in defense. The others were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. No attempts to hide their identities had been made. Not that it mattered because Colt didn’t recognize them. But this guy was wearing a ski-mask which meant he’d worried about being recognized.
Strangely familiar, rage filled eyes stared back at him but he couldn’t place what made them familiar. They were the last thing he saw before a sharp, blinding pain tore through his head. Somebody had hit him in the back of the head and despite his body trying to right itself, his legs gave and the ground crashed upwards at him.
Blackness blurred his vision but he tried to think before unconsciousness swallowed him. Why were those eyes familiar? Who was the man in the mask they called Bug? And why couldn’t he get his body to work? At the very least he needed to open his mouth to remind them that dead men couldn’t deliver messages.
Colt kicked out when one of the guys moved around him. He connected with a groin and heard a muttered curse. Before he could push up to his elbow and get to his feet to fight back, another foot connected with his ribs. The pain was excruciating but it kept him awake at least.
He was going to lose this fight. He already had. He hadn’t lost a fight since Decker used to pick on him when he was a kid but the bastard hadn’t played fair and neither had these guys. They’d outnumbered him. Circled him and then put him down with a baseball bat.
His thoughts jumbled as the blackness rose up again. His last thought was that at least Skylar was safe. She was at home, warm and probably in bed waiting for him.
She’d waited for him a long time. She’d told him that the other night. But he hadn’t told her he loved her. She was still waiting for that and if they killed him she would never know. That would end up being his biggest regret.
