Page 90 of Bullseye
She doesn’t need to see this.
Walking up to Ironclad to the sound of Seneca beating against the door, I stop just before him.
“So, Avery, what is it you want?” His voice is cool, but I can see the fear in his eyes.
“What I wanted was for none of this to happen, Ironclad. But it seems we have a problem. Two of your goons killed that damned dealer, and her brother was framed for it.”
“So what?” A bead of sweat drips from his temple and drops onto his expensive suit. “What do you want? You want me to say Mikey and Tony did it?”
“Well, I’m afraid it’s too late for that now. Besides, it would be your word against theirs. One low-level drug dealer against another.”
He stands up taller, adjusting his jacket. “That’s not true. I’m way more connected than those punk-ass pussies. Ask Don Bordono.”
As he speaks, he moves his hand ever so slowly into his suit jacket. He’s going for his gun.
“I did ask Don Bordono. And it seems he doesn’t trust you either.”
“So?”
“So, my only option is to shoot you dead, and then to have him finger Mikey and Tony.”
“Well, shit. No wonder,” Ironclad laughs.
“No wonder what?”
“No wonder Don Bordono likes you so much. You really are as stupid as he says you are.”
A chill rushes up my spine. “I hate killing anyone, Ironclad, but considering what you’ve done, and what you did to her, this time it will be my pleasure.”
With a slimy grin, he pulls his gun from his pocket and aims—
With a quick pop to the head, he’s down.
Shit. I do hate killing, and I despise this world. But this time, there was no choice.
Doubling back, I push the desk away and open Seneca’s door. She’s standing there, staring at me.
“Let’s go.”
She shakes her head.
“Seneca, I don’t have time for these games. Let’s go!”
Again, she shakes her head and then crosses her arms in front of her chest. Fuck.
Rushing to her, I take one of her arms and forcing it to her side, I bend down low and toss her over my shoulder. Then, running out the door, I see the three bodyguards lying there, moaning. Ironclad is dead, but the cameras are down and none of these goons saw me, so they can live. Thankfully.
However, they did see Seneca.
Doubling back in with Seneca bouncing over my shoulder, I go to Ironclad’s desk and shoot out all the links to the feeds, destroying any proof of me—and more importantly, Seneca—being here. That’ll also keep anyone from connecting the outage to Seth’s connection.
Then, with Seneca still over my shoulder, I rush out the doors past the injured guards. Even if they can ID me, they won’t. These guys are pros, and they know better than to mess with Don Bordono’s Bullseye.
“Thank God,” I mutter as I spot my bike waiting there like a lifeboat in a raging sea. A couple of blocks away, I spy a police car, but since she cut the feed before anything happened, there’s nothing they can do. Dropping Seneca on the bike, I peel out before she can get away—probably taking her against her will.
Fuck. After years of keeping my nose clean, in just one night, I can add murder and kidnapping to my resume. But the only person who can link me to any of it is Seneca—the sister of the man who’s doing time because of me.
The woman I love but who’llneverforgive me.
