I just wish I could take some of these fuckers down with me.
My men might be criminals and deal in death and power, but when it comes down to it, all they really want is love. A family. I refuse to break that.
They might be my strength, but I’m their weakness.
Just then, an explosion sounds above me, and the whole building rocks as dust falls from the ceiling. I smirk, knowing exactly who it is.
I don’t need no fucking hero to come save me, I can save myself, yet not once did I doubt they would help me, help me save myself, and I was right.
For once, someone didn’t let me down.
And I refuse to disappoint them.
It’s time to get free and meet my boys, then we are killing all these motherfuckers.
Okay, Roxy, time to rock this shit. As more explosions and gunshots go off upstairs, I look around before an idea comes to mind. It’s a stupid fucking idea, but it’s better than nothing. So, rocking from side to side, I build up momentum.
The chair starts to wobble, rocking with me, the creak loud in the room, but it’s drowned out by the fight going on. I swing harder and, with a yelp, the chair falls to the side. Crashing to the floor, I groan as I bang my head, but the chair explodes. I roll onto my back and moan, lying there for a moment. I landed on my left shoulder, which isn’t working. Shit, I think I dislocated it.
Fuck me, John Wick made that shit look easy. He lied, it hurts like a son of bitch, worse than that first cock in the ass.
Sitting up, I notice the chair pieces are still attached to my arms and legs by the wire. Shit. Smashing my wrist into the floor, I manage to get the wood free and then unwrap each wire before doing the same to my ankles. I’m only able to use one hand, since my other arm is hanging funny. I whimper as I peel the barbs away, watching the blood gushing from my ankles and hands. The bitches.
It’s slow going, really slow going, and when I’m done, I’m panting and drenched in sweat. Now to get the door open. Pushing up to stand on unsteady bare feet, I hold my arm across my chest protectively, wincing at the pain racing through me.
Here’s another dumb idea.
“Yo, Franny, you out there?” I scream. “Franny, I’m free, better come get me!”
The door clicks and opens, revealing Franny. When he sees me, he growls and comes at me. Here goes nothing…
I pretend to fall, grabbing the bottom of the chair arm in my good hand, before I leap up as he gets closer and smash it into his stupid face again and again with a scream. He howls and lurches back, trying to block me, his gun dropping to the floor.
I keep smashing until he’s on the ground. Panting, I grab the gun in my other hand and press it to his head. His eyes widen, blood flowing down his face. “Bye, Franny, been nice knowing you.” I pull the trigger. Clutching the gun closer, I groan as I step towards the door.
God, I want a nap.
Chapter Forty-Nine
RYDER
Sitting in the car down the road from the hotel, I check my guns and weapons as we survey it. “They will be keeping her somewhere safe, probably below the actual hotel. They will be heavily manned, but I don’t expect the whole Triad to be here—it’s too dangerous having them all in one place. It’s going to get messy. Stay close, check your corners, and watch each other’s back. We move from room to room until we get her,” I order, strapping my vest on. It will protect me a bit, but a bullet to the head will still take me down, so we need to be smart.
Even as rage flows through me, I need to get to my girl.
Diesel puts on his bright purple fanny pack, complete with a sparkly unicorn on the front. I don’t question it, because we honestly don’t have time for his crazy. Garrett has a shotgun fastened to his chest and a fucking grenade launcher on his back—after all, he will be going in first. Kenzo is heavily armed too.
We’re going to be outnumbered, but where’s the fun if you’re not?
“Let’s go. We go in loud, don’t hold back, and remember what we are fighting for,” I snarl, as I snap the clip into place.
“Oooh, I know this one! For my little bird!” Diesel grins.
“Are you okay?” Garrett asks. “Not mentally, we all know that, but—”
“Oh, I stabbed myself with some adrenaline. Let’s go!” he cries.
Laughing, I slip from the car, and then we go silent. We move in formation towards the hotel. We have the advantage, we know the layout, and we know the passages and ways to get around quickly. They don’t.
Plus, we are fighting for our girl, nothing will stop us.
We run across the road, the night cloaking us, and I put my back to the wall next to the front door, the chain that once locked it lying forgotten on the pavement. Garrett puts his back to the other side, and I nod, counting down on my fingers. He palms the grenade launcher and, with a burst of movement, I rip open the door. He goes in, ducking and firing before pulling back out as explosions rock the building.
Shouts follow, and we all file in through the smoke, breaking apart to take each side of the large foyer. I duck behind a post, and Garrett does the same while Diesel flies over an old sofa as bullets fire at him. Kenzo slips behind the front desk. I peek around to see bodies on the floor, but from the stairs and up above, they’re firing what sounds like submachine guns, the bullets spraying everything as wood and sofa bits fly everywhere, the roar loud.
Then it goes silent, and we all move at the same time. Stooping down, I take aim, choosing the top floor since I’m the best shot. I trust my brothers to deal with the others. I drop two men before ducking back behind the pillar as they start firing again, their shouts echoing. Looking to Garrett, I nod. He palms the grenade launcher again, and I cover him, darting out and firing randomly as he lines up and shoots.
We both hide behind our cover as the explosions sound again, and then it’s silent. He slings the grenade launcher behind him and grabs the shotgun. I nod, and we break from our cover. There are only two guys left in here, and they are coming down to meet us. Diesel flies at one with a roar, slicing and ripping him to pieces. Kenzo takes the other, sliding over the desk and sneaking up behind him, shooting him in the head.
“We go down. Garrett, you take the back,” I instruct, as we head past the staircase to the stairs that lead to the basement. No doubt they are waiting, so I tear open the door and toss a smoke bomb down there, waiting until I hear the yells and coughs, then I sneak down. Kenzo’s hand clutches my shoulder, Diesel is behind him, and Garrett is taking up the rear, watching our backs.
Ducking at the bottom of the stairs, I peer around the corner to see three men, all coughing and whining, looking around wildly.
“Where are they?”
“Fucking find them!” they scream.
Steadying my breathing, I pick off all three before swinging my rifle behind my back and grabbing my pistol and knife. Kenzo taps me, and I nod, then he slips past me and into the space, his gun drawn as he leans down and checks them, ensuring they are dead. When he nods, we break into the room. There are two doors, both cupboards, and we investigate them. The only way out is farther down through a narrow corridor.
It could be a trap. It’s a risk we have to take.
“Diesel.” I nod, and he slips down the passageway. If it’s a trap, only one of us dies. It’s the rule.