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“I’d like to see you try—”
“Enough!” Tugging his cigar from his lips, Dominic glances over his shoulder toward Louis, and gives a silent nod that could mean any number of things, but I’m guessing it signals my death.
The moment I catch sight of Louis pulling his gun from its holster, I take hold of my own weapon, and feel the tight grip of my shoulders. In one sweeping move, I pivot just enough to aim the gun at the ribcage of the man beside me.
Before I can pull the trigger, the quiet pop of gunfire stops me short. The vacant, bewildered look on the beefy guy’s face seems a muted reaction for the hole in his skull that marks the bullet’s path. The grip of my shoulder falls away, followed by a hard thud, as he crumples to the ground beside me.
I blow out a breath and nod, my muscles releasing their tight grip of my chest, and I shift my attention back to the two remaining Blacksuits. “Well, that was an interesting turn of events.”
“To be frank, I don’t give a good goddamn why you were here or where the girl is. As far as I’m concerned, we never saw either of you.” Dominic’s eye squints as he shoves the cigar back between his lips and puffs it. “Isn’t that right, Louis?”
“Never liked that bastard.” The foreign sound of Louis’s grumbled voice only intensifies the pulses of shock still beating through me. “Boyd either, for that matter.”
The two older Blacksuits make their way back toward the car, and with one hand on the passenger door, Dominic twists to face me again. “I’ll send a cleaner to take care of the mess. Make sure you get that shoulder looked at, Lucian. Wounds fester when you ignore them.”