Page 65 of Violent Skies

“We’re going to have some fun,” I say and Jesse smiles brightly, following me as I back away into a sea of bodies.

I keep my eyes on him as I move and he talks to some unfamiliar faces. It seems like the longer we’re out of the game the more there are of those. I hate not being informed and even worse being in the dark when I have a family to protect. He stops on the edge near a Jaguar with a flashy paint job that clearly belongs to a rich kid with too much money.

I can see Rafe out of the corner of my eye. They’re near the stairwell and all I have to do is get him over there without a fuss. Jesse understands the silent assignment and breaks through a group of people on a mission. He introduces himself to the dude and they start chatting back and forth before the conversation turns.

He points at me, and the guy's face goes cold. He moves toward me. A normal person might back away, run, or even throw the first punch, but I just wait, boots planted firmly and my shoulders squared off. He’s at least ten inches shorter than me and not nearly as well built. I laugh sickly. Men like him always pick on easy targets, and it only infuriates me more that whoever was doing this sent three of them to attack Cress.

“You’ve been looking for me?” I say as he opens his mouth to talk. He stops about a foot away, looks me up and down, and a smile creeps across his face. He believes I’m the prey and he’s the predator. Mistake number one.

Koa might have started as the cut-throat one, born to bleed people dry, but he trained me to be cold, detached from feeling. He made sure of it.

“You’ve been hiding,” he snaps, anchoring his hand to his hip as he appraises me. He wasn’t expecting my size, that’s good. It’ll give me an advantage.

“No we haven’t.”

“It was a mistake coming here. Flaunting yourself. Her.” The mention of Cress turns my blood to ice but I refuse to look at her. I know she’s safe; she’s with Murphy. “You didn’t think we came for you?”

“To be honest, the rules are a little murky.” My jaw clenches tightly as I step forward. “Your boss can’t seem to make up his mind about who he’s after and it’s getting a little confusing for us all.”

Jesse is on the phone again, his eyes darting around as he watches the entire interaction.

“Did you have a list?” I ask sarcastically. “A kill order?”

“You think we’d kill her?” he asks. “No…Riggs.” He says my name like he knows me personally and something about it irks me. It tips my view on the situation sideways. “The rules don’t matter here. Our only objective is to make you hurt.”

I search his expression for any signs of doubt or deception but there is none. My hand clenches at my side and it’s a misstep because his eyes flicker to the movement and it makes him laugh.

“Your only weakness is them,” he says. “How’s Birdie doing? Did they break anything important inside of her?” His voice gets low and it’s becoming increasingly hard to maintain my cool in such a public setting. “She’s tough, but Cress…” He licks his bottom lip. “There’s so many ways to crack her. Ruin her.”

She’s safe.

She’s with Murphy.

I repeat to myself to help keep my composure as he speaks. It’s dawning on me that the night they attacked her could have gone much worse and now I’m wishing she had stabbed him too.

“There’s only one outcome when you threaten my family,” I warn him and step back away in the direction of the stairwell.

“And what’s that?” He’s so consumed with taunting me that he doesn’t even realize that he steps forward to follow.

“I’ll kill every single last one of you.” I see the flicker of doubt then, finally, he wavers in his confidence to perform his task. “Scared?” I tease and keep moving.

“I’m not the one running,” he points out, but he’s so oblivious that I almost want to laugh in his face. I can feel the wind tunnel under the crack of the door and surge toward him, grabbing the collar of his shirt as Birdie swings the door open and I yank him around, throwing him against the nearest wall.

He hits it with a loud thud, almost falling down the stairs to his right, but regains his footing and keeps himself upright. He tries to fight around me, but I push him again. His head whips off the concrete wall and he yelps like a kicked dog. Birdie leans against the door behind me with a knife in her hand and a smile on her bruised face. Rafe is perched on the stairs a couple steps above us with his tattooed arms folded over his chest and rings stacked on his fingers.

I pause. “You know you never gave me your name…”

He spits and slams his hand upward into my arm to try to loosen my grip on his shirt. I tighten it as I give him a good slap across the face.

“It doesn’t matter,” I keep going when he stops wriggling. I pull him forward and toss him back again in one rough, forceful movement to get him to stop moving around. Birdie whistles from behind me, low and taunting as she moves forward.

“He’s not one of the ones that attacked me.” She taps the blade of her knife against his nose and looks up at me. “More goons?” She asks. “Great.”

“We won’t stop,” he groans. “There’s a score to settle.”

Birdie drives her knee into his crotch. He doubles over as I shift out of the way so she can hit him. Her fist collides with his face and he stumbles forward, straight into Rafe’s boot. His head snaps back like he’s been shot and he loses his balance, grasping for purchase on anything he can find.

He’s backed himself up against the stairs going down and his grip on the railing is weak at best as I step forward. His heels sink over the step, causing him to lose what little balance he does have, and I lean over him so he can see the look on my face.