“Take the one we rode over in, and I’ll find out if Nero can fly a chopper.”
My eyes widen at that.
“Sounds good.” Karmine nods, even though it does not sound good. “We’ll triple check every room, but it won’t take us long.”
“Copy that.” Hans starts to turn, then stops. “I heard over the radio that someone found a store of gasoline in the garage, which is handy. All things considered, it’ll probably take about ten minutes to rig the place.”
Hans’s reply is so casual. And it’s a reminder that even though this was absolutely the worst day of my life, they’re used to this. It’s what they do.
He gives Karmine a nod, then turns and strides toward the door, me still in his arms.
I lift my gaze over his shoulder and lock eyes with one of the women.
I hate the reasons why Hans and Karmine are so used to this violence. But I am glad they’re so good at it.
The woman gives me the smallest smile. And I give her one back before Hans carries me out of view.
CHAPTER 123
Hans
With Cassandra plastered to my body, we step out of the stairwell and onto the main floor.
“I’d tell you to keep your eyes closed, but I’m certain you wouldn’t listen.” I rub my cheek against hers. “So just be prepared for the bodies.”
I don’t need to explain more. One glance toward the floor, in either direction, and she’ll see a dead man.
The place is a wreck, and over the scents of death and gunpowder, the distinct smell of gasoline is starting to permeate the air.
On the flight over from Dallas, we made the plan to level the estate to the ground after rescuing Cassandra and anyone else we found.
From the looks of it, it’s only those three women in the house. King was ripping fingernails off a man earlier, extracting information, and three was the number he gave too.
It’s three too many, but Karmine will take them out of here, and she’ll give them the same options she gives everyone else. She can pay to get them home. She can provide them with new IDs and money if they don’t want to go home or don’t have a home. Or they can join her crew. It’s not a perfect system, but they’re the best options outside of involving the legal system. And, of course, if the women want to press charges against the men responsible, they’re welcome to. The only problem is that those men are always dead.
“Found a live one!” Dom calls out from the corner of the massive living room.
Nero enters the room at the same time we do.
He nods to me. “You good?”
I nod back as Cassandra tries to twist around.
I squeeze her tighter. “Quit squirming.”
“Bring him here,” Nero tells Dom.
Dom grips the sniveling man by the back of the neck and forces him to walk.
Nero looks at the man. “What the fuck? There’s not a drop of blood on him.”
Dom snorts. “He was hiding behind the curtains.”
We all turn and look at the massive broken window and the heavy velvet drapes bunched up on either side.
Nero glares at the man. “Seriously?”
“You wanna kill him?” Dom asks Nero. “If my calculations are correct, I’m still two up on you.”
Nero rolls his eyes. “Your calculations are never correct. And I want to kill him just for hiding like a bitch in a cartoon.” Dom snorts, and Nero looks at me. “Can I borrow that sword?”
I narrow my eyes. “You gonna give it back?”
Nero lets out the most dramatic sigh ever, causing Cassandra to snicker against my chest. “Yes, I’ll give it back.”
Keeping my eyes narrowed, I draw the katana and twist my wrist so I hand it to Nero handle first.
The man in Dom’s grip starts to struggle, but a pair of Alliance guys step over to help hold him still.
Nero gives the sword a few lazy figure eights. “Hans, mind opening his shirt for me? I don’t want to fuck it up and accidentally gut him.” He turns his attention to the man and whispers like he’s sharing a secret, “I’m still learning.”
The man suddenly holds deathly still.
No idea where this is going, but willing to play along, I shift Cassandra’s weight onto one arm and withdraw the straight blade at my hip.
“Can you pull his shirt tight?” I direct my question to the guys holding the man, but Cassandra is the one to reach out and grab the bottom of the man’s shirt, pulling it taut.
“I didn’t mean you,” I grumble.
But I don’t bother asking her to let go. I just slice my knife up the center of the man’s shirt, splitting it open.