well as my mind. Weak bitch .
Movement at my left made me turn sharply, and I reacted instantly at the sight of a gun barrel pointed at my head. I fired point-blank at the man standing over me before he could get a shot off, and my bullet embedded into his chest, the sound of the gunshot loud in the enclosed space. My ears began to ring as he fell to the ground, stone-cold dead.
“Fucking bitch!” someone yelled, and I rolled my eyes. I’d been called worse.
Leaning around the edge of the bar, I fired toward the speaker, who was an ugly looking man brandishing a 10mm Glock pistol. Quickly recalling the amount of shots that had been fired, I estimated he had six of his fifteen rounds left before he had to reload.
Aiming at the ugly fucker, I fired, the bullet clipping his arm and embedding into the wall behind him. He roared in pain and fell behind a table out of my line of fire.
Rising to my feet, I fired at the second man even though I wasn’t sure where he was. Reckless but I was pinned into position by the sniper I wasn’t even sure was still there.
I ducked as he returned fire, the bar splintering above and showering me with shards of mahogany.
“Leave her,” I heard a rough, male voice declare. The sound came from the right, which meant it was the one I’d injured.
“But—”
“I said, leave her .” The same man interrupted the second, and a moment later, there was a crash as they moved through the pub, tossing tables out of the way.
Rising to my feet, I tracked the gun on their retreating forms and fired. One, two, three shots, which was everything I had left in my clip. Instantly, they returned fire, forcing me to duck for cover.
Fuck . I didn’t like my chances going after them unarmed. They’d seen my face and knew exactly who I was. I didn’t like that they were out there with that kind of information, but I was screwed. I had to let them go.
Silence descended on the pub, and I leaned around the end of the bar. I was alone. Rising to my feet, I edged my way across the room until I was satisfied I was in the clear. Then I turned my attention to the guy I’d shot.
I didn’t recognize him. In fact, I didn’t recognize any of the men.
Kneeling beside him, I rifled through his pockets but came up with nothing. Lifting up his hand, I cursed when I saw his fingertips were scarred. The fucker had burnt off his fingerprints. There was no way I was identifying a man who went to great lengths to hide his identity. Not easily, anyway.
Whoever wanted me dead had sent four assassins to finish the job, and four hadn’t been enough. Narrowing my eyes, I considered the notion that had I brought Vaughn like he’d wanted me to, I would’ve had fair warning of the attack, and Gardener would be still in play. He’d been a good informant over the years. We’d met plenty of times, and he’d come through each and every time.
Glancing up, I eyeballed the CCTV camera in the corner. A little red light blinked, signaling that it was operational. A lot of places like this had them installed, but they rarely worked. Publicans used them as deterrents mostly since they were expensive to operate and maintain, but this lot had money. Money that was most likely paid to them by cartels and thugs like the ones who’d smashed up the place.
I rose to my feet and snorted. Everyone paid off everyone. Trust was a fool’s errand in the games we played. To these men, money was the only thing that made a difference as to which side the players played on. I snatched up the money I’d paid Gardener from the floor and slid it into my pocket with the intel. His loss.
Shoving open the door to the back room, I found the computer that held all the pub records and the feed from the cameras. Rifling through the drawers, I found a screwdriver and pushed the monitor to the floor. It landed with a crash as I began unscrewing the cover on the box that housed what I needed below. Casting that aside, I disconnected the hard drive,
Movement at my left made me turn sharply, and I reacted instantly at the sight of a gun barrel pointed at my head. I fired point-blank at the man standing over me before he could get a shot off, and my bullet embedded into his chest, the sound of the gunshot loud in the enclosed space. My ears began to ring as he fell to the ground, stone-cold dead.
“Fucking bitch!” someone yelled, and I rolled my eyes. I’d been called worse.
Leaning around the edge of the bar, I fired toward the speaker, who was an ugly looking man brandishing a 10mm Glock pistol. Quickly recalling the amount of shots that had been fired, I estimated he had six of his fifteen rounds left before he had to reload.
Aiming at the ugly fucker, I fired, the bullet clipping his arm and embedding into the wall behind him. He roared in pain and fell behind a table out of my line of fire.
Rising to my feet, I fired at the second man even though I wasn’t sure where he was. Reckless but I was pinned into position by the sniper I wasn’t even sure was still there.
I ducked as he returned fire, the bar splintering above and showering me with shards of mahogany.
“Leave her,” I heard a rough, male voice declare. The sound came from the right, which meant it was the one I’d injured.
“But—”
“I said, leave her .” The same man interrupted the second, and a moment later, there was a crash as they moved through the pub, tossing tables out of the way.
Rising to my feet, I tracked the gun on their retreating forms and fired. One, two, three shots, which was everything I had left in my clip. Instantly, they returned fire, forcing me to duck for cover.
Fuck . I didn’t like my chances going after them unarmed. They’d seen my face and knew exactly who I was. I didn’t like that they were out there with that kind of information, but I was screwed. I had to let them go.
Silence descended on the pub, and I leaned around the end of the bar. I was alone. Rising to my feet, I edged my way across the room until I was satisfied I was in the clear. Then I turned my attention to the guy I’d shot.
I didn’t recognize him. In fact, I didn’t recognize any of the men.
Kneeling beside him, I rifled through his pockets but came up with nothing. Lifting up his hand, I cursed when I saw his fingertips were scarred. The fucker had burnt off his fingerprints. There was no way I was identifying a man who went to great lengths to hide his identity. Not easily, anyway.
Whoever wanted me dead had sent four assassins to finish the job, and four hadn’t been enough. Narrowing my eyes, I considered the notion that had I brought Vaughn like he’d wanted me to, I would’ve had fair warning of the attack, and Gardener would be still in play. He’d been a good informant over the years. We’d met plenty of times, and he’d come through each and every time.
Glancing up, I eyeballed the CCTV camera in the corner. A little red light blinked, signaling that it was operational. A lot of places like this had them installed, but they rarely worked. Publicans used them as deterrents mostly since they were expensive to operate and maintain, but this lot had money. Money that was most likely paid to them by cartels and thugs like the ones who’d smashed up the place.
I rose to my feet and snorted. Everyone paid off everyone. Trust was a fool’s errand in the games we played. To these men, money was the only thing that made a difference as to which side the players played on. I snatched up the money I’d paid Gardener from the floor and slid it into my pocket with the intel. His loss.
Shoving open the door to the back room, I found the computer that held all the pub records and the feed from the cameras. Rifling through the drawers, I found a screwdriver and pushed the monitor to the floor. It landed with a crash as I began unscrewing the cover on the box that housed what I needed below. Casting that aside, I disconnected the hard drive,
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