Does that mean I’ll go back and let Demi leave when she raced out of the restaurant last night? No fucking chance in hell. My dad fell in love with my mother in under an hour. I think I broke the family record with Demi.
After removing the stolen plates Saint hooked me up with, I dump them into a bin at the side of my bike before cupping Demi’s cheeks in my hands. It kills me that her face is more banged up than it was last night. I’m dying to ask her what she endured during our absence, but I can’t just yet. If I know the full extent of her injuries, I’ll be on track for my second murder tonight.
“No matter what you hear, I need you to stay here, okay?”
She looks like she wants to deny my request, but instead, she awards me the blind faith I gave her last night when she asked to store Col’s card into my wallet. She could have found anything in there—condoms, hotel room receipts. Hell, I’m reasonably sure there are a handful of numbers tucked away for a rainy day in my wallet, yet I gave her unhindered access like I did my cell phone. “Don’t be long.”
“I won’t,” I assure her.
It only takes two seconds to kick a man’s ass, so Agent Moses should take half that since he isn’t close to being a man.
I press my lips to Demi’s like they have the power to switch me back from a murderer to an everyday civilian. Although they do lower my anger by a smidge, it isn’t enough to alter my plan of attack. I was fucked over tonight, in more ways than one. I can’t ignore that.
Old-town blues music blasts into my ears when I push through the swinging door of Charlie’s Pub. It isn’t the place you’d expect to find a bunch of federal agents. I guess that’s why they frequent here. They take up more of the floor space than the regular folks, and the wisdom frustrates me to no end. If they had done their job, my hands wouldn’t be stained with another man’s blood. They let me down, and the weasel at the back of the group was the main culprit.
“I can explain,” Agent Moses blubbers out when I join him at the end of the bar, away from prying eyes. “I took it to my supervisor. He said there wasn’t enough to work with. I tried to call you. Your cell rang out.”
A fool would believe him.
I’m no fucking idiot.
I only left his side when I commenced the hour commute to the warehouse where the to-the-death fight was being held. He said a crew was on standby. They were supposed to raid the warehouse before I got close to the ring.
He left me hung out to dry.
Now he’s about to be hung by the same wire.
I kick up a barstool in a way Saint would be proud of at the same time I fist Agent Moses’s preppy-boy shirt. When the top two buttons in his shirt pop from my brutal clutch, I imagine Demi being grabbed in the same manner. The neckline of her dress goes down to the wire in her bra because her buttons were forcefully removed from her clothing. They’re no longer there to fasten.
Acting oblivious to the number of weapons on me, I snarl out, “You said you had a crew in lockdown. I only had to prove the matches were taking place, then you were gonna get us out.” Those were the exact words he spoke to me when he flagged me down half a mile out from Dimitri’s private residence this afternoon. He said if I knew the location of the fight, he had a way of getting Demi out uninjured.
I stupidly believed him.
That isn’t happening this time around.
“You fucked me over, Arrow.”
He signals for his fellow agents to stand down before returning his eyes to me. “I called you, Ox. I told you to pull back, that we didn’t have the resources. What more could I have done?”
He tries to weasel his way out of my hold like words alone will suffocate my anger. His misjudgment only makes me clutch him even firmer. “A lot more! That’s what you should have done. I can’t come back from this! Demi can’t come back from this! You fucking ruined us!”
His terrorized eyes bounce between mine. “What happened to Demi? Did something happen? Did Col hurt her?” My stomach gurgles during his last question. Even if I hadn’t seen the exchange between Demi and Col in his Audi, his tone ensures I’d never be uncertain as to what his question is referencing.
The genuine concern for Demi in his eyes sees me breaking the barstool over the bar instead of his head. Just like earlier, don’t misread my actions. I’m fucking ropeable. I want to beat him until his eyes blacken with death, but my focus needs to be elsewhere right now.
I killed a man to save Demi, but I have no clue if I was too late. Was she hurt before I arrived? The relief in her eyes when I made a beeline for her after breaking the neck of my opponent has me skeptical, but I’ll never know if I stay here.
The fret in Agent Moses’s eyes when I grabbed him doubles as I end his bullshit with a handful of words. “I’m done. Whatever this is, was, or could have been is done.” I clutch his shirt for a few more minutes before I push him away from me with a grunt.
Like a fool not in fear for his life, he straightens his disheveled shirt and tie before he attempts to barter with me, “You need to think about this, Ox. My recommendation will get you in the door. If you don’t have it, you may not make it through the initial interview process.”
“It’s not like the Bureau hires murderers,” I mumble before I can stop myself.
Agent Moses replies, but I miss what he says since I’m heading for the door. Even with Arrow demanding for his colleagues to stand down, our exchange has gained too many onlookers for me to feel confident I’ll make it out of this bar without handcuffs circling my wrist. Considering Demi’s well-being is at the forefront of my mind, I can’t let that happen. Not even the manifestation of the badge he’s been promising me the past seven months can detract from that.
I work my jaw side to side when Agent Moses halts my exit with a snarled comment. “You either continue doing as requested or face life behind bars.”
“Life for breaking the buttons on your shirt?” I ask with a laugh. “Send me your tailor’s bill. I’ll pay for the repairs.”
“You wrecked more than a handful of buttons tonight. An entire family’s life was upended in an instant. Perhaps even more than one.”
I don’t need to spin to know what he’s referencing. I can hear the sickening details. The squeak that popped from Demi’s mouth when she was dragged away from the ring by her hair. The crack of Igor’s neck. His final breath. I hear it all, and it’s coming from the direction of the cell phone in Agent Moses’s hand.
“Where did you get that footage?” My voice is thick with anger. He could have only gotten that footage two ways. He was either at the event that changed me in an instant, or he knows someone who was. Either way, I’m pissed as fuck he has proof of how far I’ll go for a girl some may believe I’ve only just met.
“Where I got it from isn’t the issue.” He saunters my way, all pompous and shit. “Who I give it to should be your sole concern.”
“Being in possession of such evidence and not handing it to the authorities is a crime in itself. If I go down for this, so the fuck will you.” I could be way off the mark, but I’ve got to try something. If I don’t, who will defend Demi when her uncle comes to?
When Agent Moses doesn’t bother with a reply, acutely aware he has me backed into a corner, I open and close my fists two times before asking, “What do you want?”