Page 40

Forty

Quinn

I sat in a chair by the window with my hands still tied in front of me.

I couldn’t pretend to be unconscious anymore, especially after one of them had kicked me in the ribs and I groaned in response.

Now that I was awake, they were discussing what to do with me.

It was apparent that I wasn’t supposed to live long enough for them to bother with tying me to the chair, which was stupid on their part.

To add to their stupidity, all three of the men now had their ski masks off, allowing me to memorize every detail of their hideous faces.

From the tattoos that covered the tall one’s face to his neck to the one with no teeth and a receding hairline—they weren’t anyone that I had seen before in any of the cases that I’d worked.

Toss in the fact that they were discussing how to get rid of me, and I knew that they were simply hitmen for hire and not at all associated with whoever had Rosie.

My Rosie. My heart ached at the thought of my sweet girl somewhere alone with these monsters and I prayed that she was okay. Had Roman gotten to her? Was he okay?

I subtly shook my head to clear it and focused on the task at hand.

While they were busy talking, I scanned the room for anything I could use to my advantage. My hands were still tied and I didn’t have a weapon on me, which meant that I would have to rely on improvising.

Two of the men wore shoulder holsters but didn’t appear to have any armor on.

The third guy didn’t have armor on, nor did he appear to have a weapon.

He was short and stocky with a gut that begged to be punched.

I looked between them, searching for anything that would tell me who would be the hardest to take down—that’s where I would start.

“I don’t care what they said. I want the money, and I want it now,” the short guy sneered into the phone.

The guy with the tattoos rolled his head on his neck, closing his eyes briefly while he did.

Out of the three of them, he was the largest and most muscular.

The other guy had a few missing teeth, but other than that, he wasn’t in that bad of shape.

If I had to choose between the two of them—and I did—I knew that the one with the tats would be my biggest challenge.

As if lady luck was on my side, the short guy on the phone turned and paced by the boarded-up window next to the front door and continued to tap the screen of his phone. No Teeth Tom, as I decided to name him, took off down the hall after announcing he was taking a piss.

That left Tatted Tim and me. He rolled his neck again, and I took that moment to make my move.

Within seconds, I jumped up from the chair, ducked to avoid his hand that reached out to grab me, and slid down as if I was trying to steal home base.

As I was mid-slide, I swung my hands up and punched him in the balls.

It was difficult with my hands tied, but I knew it was the only way to disable him quickly.

As he hunched over in pain, I spun around and grabbed the .

45 from his holster. Without giving it a second thought, I pulled the trigger and sent a bullet straight through his head.

His body hit the floor at the same time the short one came rushing over.

Before he could reach me, I put a bullet through his chest and then another one in his head, just to be sure.

Now that two out of the three were eliminated, there was one left, and I prayed that he would be talkative after seeing his two buddies.

I needed at least one of them to give me information on where Rosie was and who was paying them to kill me.

I waited with my hands steady in front of me for him to come back from the bathroom.

I didn’t imagine he was in any rush, given that he likely assumed those bullets were for me and that the job was done.

A few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door open, and heavy footsteps headed toward me from the hallway. Before they got there, the front door burst open. I spun around, aimed, and fired.