Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Knuckles stood with his back to the door frame and “mule kicked”. It sprang inward at nearly the same moment Inferno’s team crashed through the side entrance. The building erupted. Tables overturned. Chairs splintered. Someone fired a shotgun from the kitchen, the blast taking out the front window in a spray of glass and wood. People screamed and shouted and I heard footsteps hurrying away. I dropped to a crouch behind an overturned booth at Griffin’s urging, heart hammering against my ribs as I tried to make sense of the chaos.
The men from Kiss of Death used knives instead of guns, but everyone carried. Griffin moved with animal grace, clearing the distance to the first man, taking him by surprise. Griffin’s knife flashed, and there was a wet, muffled COUGH as the blade went straight into the side of the guy’s neck, buried to the hilt. Blood sprayed the wall when Griffin yanked the blade free, and the man crumpled without a sound.
Before the guy even hit the floor, Griffin already had his back to me, his body a moving, breathing shield. The next threat came from behind the hostess podium, a man with a gun up and aimed. Griffin went low and to the right, knife in his left hand, and I swear to God I had to use every ounce of restraint not to run to him as I watched him catch the man’s wrist and shove it to the side. The gun went off once, the roar deafening in the small entryway. I covered my ears, unable to stop my small shriek. Griffin buried the blade under the man’s ribcage and drove upward. There was a thick, burbling noise and the guy sagged. I swallowed back bile and spat once while I waited until Griffin came back for me.
We moved through the main dining room. There were two more men with Iron’s crew on the far side. One had already dropped his gun and was backpedaling, hands in the air, while the other clung to a shotgun, wild-eyed and shaking. I saw him frantically try to rack a shell when the thing jammed. His eyes met mine for a split second. Then Knuckles was there, appearing out of nowhere, and crushed the man’s skull against the wall, sounding like a melon splitting.
The guy who’d thrown his gun knelt on the floor, hands up. I had no clue if the guy was really surrendering or just biding his time, but he kept his gaze on the floor, visibly shaking.
I followed Griffin through the kitchen swinging doors. A figure in black darted from the walk-in freezer, heading for the rear exit. Hannah tackled him at the knees, not even trying for finesse. She wrenched his arm behind his back. When he howled, she grabbed a handful of his hair with her other hand and shoved his face into the tile twice. There was a loud crack as something broke in his face. When he still fought weakly, Hannah slammed his head into the tile one last time. The guy’s head gave and he didn’t move.
Griffin motioned for me to come to him. I moved in his direction, but three steps in, Griffin’s eyes widened just as something hard and large slammed into me from behind. An arm locked around my throat, cutting off my air. I drove my head back into his face, felt cartilage give way with a wet crack. His grip loosened just enough for me to spin and face him. I managed to pull my gun up and fired twice into his chest. The man dropped like a stone, blood spreading across the floor in a dark pool.
Griffin reached me, eyes scanning for threats, weapon still raised. “You hit?”
I shook my head even though I knew I probably shook as much as the guy in the other room. “I’m good. Where’s Tessa?”
Before he could answer, Knuckles and Hannah pushed through from the back, clearing the storage corridor with methodical efficiency. Hannah’s face was set in lines of cold fury, a streak of someone else’s blood across one cheekbone. Knuckles looked like he was enjoying himself, the kind of savage glee that made me want to step back.
“Inferno?” Knuckles called.
“Clear,” came the reply from the far side of the building. “Three down. No sign of the girl.”
“She’s here,” I said, the certainty of it burning in my chest. Sheer desperation and grief tried to overwhelm me. “She has to be.”
Griffin nodded. “Spread out. Check everywhere.”
We moved through the restaurant in pairs, clearing each room with military precision. The kitchen yielded nothing but a guy lying dead by the back door, a cell phone still clutched in his hand. The office was empty. The storage room held cases of liquor and cleaning supplies, but no Tessa.
Griffin pushed through the swinging door to the back dining room, then went perfectly still. “Veda,” he said, voice tight. “In here.”