Page 163 of House of Payne
Together, we step over a few more bodies and venture through the double doors ahead.
Inside, there’s an arch, high ceilings, and a staircase, but I can’t make out anything else. Slowly, we move forward, our guns drawn, and our breathing quiet. I expect Michael to step out of the shadows with an inert London in tow, but I shove away the image and focus on the task at hand.
Imagining putting a bullet through Michael’s head helps.
As does picturing Lance next to him.
I want to be the one to take them down and then stand over them as the light leaves their eyes and they realize they’ve lost.
I will take care of those two personally as soon as I get the chance.
They should’ve known better than to cross me.
Suddenly, there’s a grunting sound, and Carlisle steps forward, cradling his arm to his chest, his face covered in sweat and blood.
“How many people have we lost?”
Carlisle’s eyes are on Katia’s face as he answers. “Two.”
I lower the gun and frown. “We can’t lose more. There’s not enough of us.”
I planned it that way on purpose, not wanting to draw any unnecessaryattention.
Mathew has probably already figured out something is wrong. I have no idea if he’ll come after us or leave us to fight our way out.
“There are more on standby,” Katia tells me. “I called in a few favors.”
“You shouldn’t have gone behind my back,” I growl. “I’ll deal with your insubordination later.”
I’m grateful to her all the same.
Katia could’ve gone to my father or Mathew, and she would’ve been well within her rights. As my personal assassin, it’s her job to keep me safe, and launching a half-cocked rescue attempt is anything but safe.
It’s not lost on me that I couldn’t do this without her.
Still, knowing she involved more people makes me angrier than I have the right to be, given the situation.
She’s a trained killer. She’s supposed to make decisions like this, and you know it. You’re just pissed because you didn’t think of it.
With time running out, my sole focus has been on London and making sure I get her back.
Thankfully, Katia isn’t bogged down by the same fears and worries.
It makes me even more relieved to have her by my side as Carlisle joins us, and we search the house. He rips off a piece of his shirt and wraps it around his upper shoulder, which is oozing blood. The chaos continues outside as bullets whiz past and lodge themselves into the windows. Shards of glass fly in every direction, and I’m sure everyone in the house must know we’re here.
I wonder if any Fitzpatricks or Everetts are nearby, but I know that’s just wishful thinking.
They’re not stupid enough to be anywhere near this, despite the number of guards they have posted.
They knew you were going to come for her.
We round a corner, and Katia pushes me against a wall and takes a few more people out. I reach for the nearest gun when I run out of ammoand follow in her wake, taking an odd sense of satisfaction from watching her work. After doing a sweep of the bottom floor, Katia leads us back to the stairs and motions to Carlisle.
No one is waiting for us at the top of the stairs.
The carpeted hallway is empty and still.
I hear a scuffle to my right and dart that way before Katia can stop me. I round the corner, and all I see are paintings on the walls and a few closed doors. Then, I hear a muffled voice and creep toward it.
