Page 51 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)

FORTY-FIVE

LIAM

Never in my life, save for once, had my hand ever shook when I lifted a gun and pointed it at a human with the intention of killing them.

The first time it happened was the first time I was forced to kill a woman who'd been involved with a target of ours.

My superiors ordered us to take the shot no matter what, and the woman he had in his arms counted in that 'no matter what.

' It made no difference to them if she was innocent, if she had any idea at all what kind of man she danced with, if she was there of her own free will or forced.

To them, she was expendable, just another thin piece of flesh to shoot through to get to him.

I had a gun put to my head, was forced to take the long distance shot through her back as she danced him in front of a window.

I became disillusioned that day. After finding out that the woman I'd shot through was an accomplice to the murder of a whole school of children of the regime's enemies, I realized that women could be just as bad as men.

That there was no fine line between good and evil.

That even those who looked like they'd never be a part of something vile like that could still have their finger on the trigger and their hand in the pile.

Minnie had never struck me as the type, but I shouldn't have been surprised. And considering she had her hands around Trinity's arm and the barrel of her gun up against her temple, I didn't have time to deliberate the

It didn't make sense, though.

"Put the gun down, Minnie, and nobody has to get hurt."

Her eyes darted up to meet mine, and in that second, I could see her for what she really was: a monster. Someone along the line destroyed her, helped her into this world, and somewhere along the way, she lost herself trying to survive in a world of the vilest specimens humanity had to offer.

She was past pity, though.

Her gun barrel caressed the side of Trinity's head, and I read the pure terror in Trin's eyes as she met my gaze. "Oh look, it's one of the cretin the Guild sent to look after you and bust up this trafficking ring. Too bad they're terrible at their jobs."

We were only bad at our job because Minnie handed us something to distract us. They likely planned to move operations outside of Port Wylde, outside of our reach. If they succeeded, we'd be screwed, and Trinity would be long gone by now.

I wasn't about to let that happen.

"Trinity—"

"Don't you talk to her!" Minnie snapped, shoving the barrel roughly against her cheek, leering like a loon.

"You say one more word to her, or she talks back to you, and I'll blast her brains all over this fucking place.

" Her finger pulled back the hammer on her out-of-date revolver, and she took a deep breath, her personality nothing like the Minnie that had hired us on to protect her girl.

Nothing like the Minnie who'd extracted a favor from The Lilly St. Clair.

She wasn't anything like she'd been two weeks ago. Or a day ago. This was a desperate woman.

"Minnie, listen—" I tried, but she cut me off, swinging the gun in my direction next.

"No, you listen! I know what guys like you want from girls like us.

" Her eyes darted to Trinity, and she grimaced.

"All men are the same, deep down. All they want is to use us.

They'll take what they can, and when they're done with us, we're just dumped on whatever asshole will take their trash out for them.

Preferably, if there's something in it for them. "

Trinity's lips curled up in disgust. "They're not like that," she protested, and I swore under my breath, wishing she'd just keep her mouth shut. "They've never been like that."

"All men, Trinity McCoy," Minnie doubled down, her gun back against Trinity's head instead of pointed at me. "All of them. Even your precious boys here have secrets that turned them into monsters."

"Minnie," I threatened, but she wasn't listening. And the longer her gun barrel stayed pointed at Trinity, the more dangerous this situation became. "You don't want to do this."

"You're right, I don't," she agreed, "but I don't have a choice."

Gunshots continued to rain down around us, and a part of me chipped away every time Trinity flinched from one that got too close.

I had to get her out of here, and fast.

I just hoped she'd been paying attention when I showed her the hand signals for combat the other day during her lesson.

My eyes darted down to my hand, and hers followed. She watched carefully as I curled my hand into a fist: hold. Her eyes stayed glued there, and I tried to keep Minnie distracted as I formed the next signal for Trin.

"Minnie, you can walk away from all this." My hand morphed into a two-fingered salute, and I jerked it down, signaling for her to drop when I repeated the action. "You can change."

"A tiger can't change its stripes," she lamented, eyes hollow. "And neither can I."

"Now!"

I jerked my fingers down, and Trinity fell like a sack of stones, and the second she was out of the way, I pulled my trigger and put a bullet square in her heart.

Minnie didn't even have a chance to fire her gun. She hit the floor with a thud, and Trinity, for all that the last time I saw her I told her she meant nothing to us but a means to an end, wasted no time in moving to my side.

"You came."

"Of course. You called." I swallowed the pain from the realization that I'd made her think I wouldn't. I couldn't appreciate how it felt to have her safe against me when she wrapped her arms around me, because I didn't deserve that relief.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Drug you?

" My hand not holding a gun tugged her back, hoping to inspect her in what little time I had before shit hit the fan here.

The cops were on the way. Those who weren't already outside, waiting for these cretin to flee the building, anyhow. Hawke and Asher would find us soon enough.

"I'm fine," she muttered against my chest, but the wince when I brushed my other hand over the back of her neck told me someone had hurt her at some point. "Mostly." She turned around, putting her back to my chest, and scanned the room. "What about the other girls?"

"Hawke will get them out of here," I reassured her, a hand on her waist as I guided her away from the fray. I had to get her out of here, had to make sure she was safe. "Let's get you out of here, too."

She didn't put up a fight.

We didn't run into Asher or Hawke on the way out, but once we were free of the building and the police swarmed the place to find stragglers, they found us by the car, where I'd dragged an EMT away to inspect Trinity for injuries.

"I'll take care of it," Asher growled, tugging the EMT away from Trinity with a gentleness I know he didn't feel. "You should see to the others."

"Sure," the woman muttered, eyeing Asher's blood-stained shirt and feral glare with apprehension. "I'll just—yeah."

And then there was just us, and Trinity, and things got messy, fast.

"Tee-Bird—" Hawke surged her, grabbing for her hands, turning them over and over in his search for injuries. "Are you?—?"

"I'm fine, Hawke," she muttered, her eyes on the ground. "I promise."

"She's been hit," I told Asher, "back of her head and neck. She flinched when I touched it."

He was behind her in seconds, pulling her hair out of the way to check her for marks. His fingers poked and prodded her, and I had to watch her withstand his inspection, even as it caused her pain.

"She'll be okay, just a little sore, I think," he said finally, putting her hair back down with a frown. "Did someone pistol whip you or something?"

"You could say that," she gritted out, scowling as Hawke spun her around to check the rest of her. "Hey, come on, now, I said I'm okay?—"

"Hawke, enough," Asher growled, tossing him the keys to the car. "Let's get her out of here first. Before the police start asking questions."

Hawke tossed the keys to me. "You drive. I'm too keyed up."

And I wasn't? I didn't argue, though. I didn't say a word as Asher and Hawke piled into the car, Hawke in the backseat with Trinity, and Asher in the front seat with me.

He turned around as I pulled into midnight traffic and sped down the road, my focus solely on getting us out of here.

For all of about a minute and a half. And then, Asher turned around in his seat and started peppering questions at Trinity, and Hawke love-bombed her, and that left me, sitting alone in the front seat, pretty much, staring at her from the rear view mirror's reflection.

And then she met my gaze in the damn thing, and I had to swerve at the last minute to avoid crashing into the car in front of me.

I watched a tear fall from her eye as the oblivious idiots kept asking her question after question, repeating over and over how much they were sorry and how they were so glad they'd found her, and I couldn't take it anymore.

Damn Keehn for making me promise to protect her. Damn him for asking us to do what he couldn't do. Damn him for making me feel like a traitor of the highest order for what I was about to do.

Because I couldn't sit here anymore and pretend. Pretending, lying, it had all gotten me here where I was right now, and it was killing me.

I spun the wheel and guided the car down a dark, abandoned alley, then threw it in park just off the main stretch of road, got out of the damn thing, and yanked open the back door on Trinity's side.

When my hand curled around her wrist and tugged her out, she came without an argument, and when Hawke tried to follow, I slammed the door in his face.

He didn't follow. I didn't stop to ask why. I didn't want him to be a part of what was about to happen.

"Liam, what?—"