Like they’d rehearsed it, I watched as all the doors of both vehicles got thrown open at the same time. Within moments, we were surrounded by guns and scary ass motherfuckers dressed all in black, except for one guy.
“Johnny Jack,” I murmured to myself, as I watched the crime boss saunter forward.
He wore a pale blue suit with fucking ruffles on the shirt like a true southern beau right after having sweet tea with his mama. I looked at his boots as they clomped across the concrete. He was a big man. Tall and meaty with a stomach that hung over his large belt buckle.
“Well, well, well,” he said, strolling up cool as can be, while his men lined up behind him, aiming their guns at our chests. I noticed Dean O’Banion standing off to the side, smirking at us like a jackass. I don’t know why he looked so confident. Rocco’s words filtered through my mind. He was just a fucking pawn. But then again, so were we.
Sweat coated my palm that was attached to Rogue’s hand, but I knew he wouldn’t let me go. “Y’all have made a mighty fine show of makin’ trouble ‘round here, but I see you’ve finally come to your senses,” he said in his thick southern drawl, his eyes flicking down to the three boxes of photographs we had at our feet. His accent seemed forced, like he had spent decades perfecting the art of sounding like he grew up a southern gentleman.
“We’re here to make a deal,” Rogue answered.
“Nah, boy. You’re here to grovel,” Johnny Jack corrected, and as soon as he took another step forward, the light from the streetlamp revealed a face no older than forty, with a thin brown mustache above his upper lip and slicked back hair. He looked purposely harmless, though I knew he was anything but.
“You stole from me, boys,” Johnny Jack said, taking a cigar out out of his inside jacket pocket. The man to his left immediately hurried to lift a lighter for him. Johnny Jack puffed a few times on the large roll of tobacco, like he was enjoying taking his time. “The only reason I didn’t have your throats slit that very first night, was because I’m a Savannah man, through and through,” he said, shooting us a wide smile that made me want to hide behind Rogue. “You’re the illustrious Heirs,” he said mockingly, lifting his meaty hands at the guys, and turning around in a circle at his men as if to show us off.
I felt Rogue’s hand squeeze mine even tighter, but I didn’t move. “If I killed you four, there’d be questions. And I don’t like when people ask me questions, boys,” Johnny Jack went on. “But I can’t have people runnin’ around, doing just whatever they please, now can I? That would be no way to run a business. Your daddy knows all about that, Mr. Kelly. Same goes for you, Mr. Taylor.”
Rogue and Godfrey tensed, but said nothing.
“Your daddy assured me that you’d come crawling to me with your tail tucked between your legs,” Johnny Jack said to Godfrey. “Guess he was right.”
When Johnny Jack’s eyes hit me, his smile widened. “Ah. Scarlett Livingston. So glad you could join us,” he drawled, taking me in. “Well, ain’t you prettier than a summer daisy.”
Rogue shook, barely containing his anxious anger. “We give you the photographs, and you leave us alone. No more threats. No more of your henchmen following us. That’s the deal,” Rogue gritted out. I was counting the seconds. Shouldn’t Rocco be here already to ambush them?
Johnny Jack took a long draw on his cigar before flicking it to the ground. It rolled towards our feet, and I felt it hit the front of my shoe as smoke streamed in front of me. “Tell you what, Mr. Kelly. How about you drop to your knees, and I won’t torture you. I’ll just kill you the same way you killed my man,” he said, and my heart stuttered as he locked his volatile eyes on Rogue. “You think I wouldn’t hear about that body you’ve got at the bottom of your daddy’s lake?”
My chest constricted. We should have run. We should have never tried doing this. Rocco told us he only cared about getting his daughter back. Expecting him to swoop in and save us was so stupid.
Bonham sighed, his cool demeanor making me shake as he pulled the rifle off his back and aimed it at Johnny Jack. “Or I could just blow your brains out right here and now,” he said with conviction as Rogue manhandled me further behind him.
At that threat, Johnny’s men all lifted their guns up, various barrels aimed haphazardly at us. I licked at the sweat collecting on my upper lip.
“Oh, pretty boy’s got some balls, y’all!” Johnny Jack said to his crew with a cackle that made me shiver. “You gonna shoot me?” Johnny rolled his neck before slipping his hand into the waistband of his pants, as if to rest it there like a pocket. He tossed a charismatic smile to the group before using his free hand to pull a weapon from his holster. With a laugh, he began spinning his automatic pistol in his palm. “You know what the difference between a man and a little boy is?” he asked, while stalking closer. “A boy dances with the trigger. A man shoots.”
Johnny Jack stopped spinning his gun on a dime and aimed it at Bonham’s foot. One exhale and a smile was all the warning we got. He released the bullet without hesitation.
I let out a shrill scream as blood, bone, and Bonham’s leather soles burst, splattering on the concrete. My sweet Heir collapsed to his knees and screamed out in pain. The moment he landed, he dropped his rifle and clutched his shin, as if holding it could somehow stop the pounding pain in his foot. He screamed so loud I could see the veins bulging in his neck. He grew pale, his lips white as he stared down in shock at his foot. The smell of flesh and blood filled my nose, and I had to stop myself from vomiting.
All at once, everyone moved. Another shot went off, and I searched the group to see where it came from. Rogue was trying to yank me back towards the car when my eyes landed on Godfrey’s outstretched arm, clutching a smoking gun. There was a man collapsed at his feet, crimson blood and brains pouring from his skull onto the concrete. My mouth dropped opened as I stared. I was frozen, feeling helpless and shocked all at once. How did we think this would end differently? And where the fuck was Rocco?
My head was shoved down as Rogue tried to shield me with his body, and more gunfire went off around us. He pushed me towards his SUV, still blocked by Johnny Jack’s fleet of cars, but we didn’t make it. Someone tackled Rogue to the ground and another ripped me from his arms. I felt like a lifeless doll, being effortlessly jostled around. Time seemed too slow and too fast all at once, and there was so much noise that I couldn’t focus on any one thing. The shock acted like anvils sitting on my response time.
I was still picturing Bonham’s writhing form when I was shoved again. It knocked me out of my stress-induced haze. I landed on the rough concrete and I tried to roll away, but I was too slow. A man grabbed hold of my ankles and pulled me backwards. Scissor kicking, I aimed for his chin but missed.
My own chin scraped against the ground and I clenched my teeth as two men bound my legs together with their strong grip and picked me up. Another man grabbed at my torso, locking his arms around me to keep mine in place. I jerked my hips up and down and twisted in their hold but I couldn’t break free.
No, no, no. I couldn’t let them take me.
I caught a glimpse of Rogue, who was on the ground receiving blow after blow by two other men.