Page 121 of Hunted

“That… that… Crab sucker! Has he been arrested? Is it over?” I ask hopefully.

“Richard is in custody. West shot him in the shoulder, so they brought him to the hospital to be patched up. As soon as the doctors confirmed it wasn’t life threatening, they moved him to the jail to await trial,” Bower tells me.

“Weston, you shot him?” I say with wide eyes. “I didn’t even know you had a gun.”

“I picked it up after the bomb, I didn't want to leave your safety in the hands of other people anymore.”

“He saved Reece. His dad was going to stab him in the back when West shot him,” Kingsley tells me, filling in what I had missed while unconscious.

“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Weston’s hand. I turn to Reece and reach for him as well. “Both of you.”

I glance around and see they all still look worried.

“If he’s in jail, and none of you have been arrested, why don’t you guys look happier?”

“Because Richard isn’t the only person we need to worry about,” Weston grumbles.

My eyes widen in fear as Reece narrows his eyes at him over his shoulder, as if they’ve had this conversation before. “I said it’s not a good idea.”

“We’d be safe.”

“If it got linked back to us—”

“It won’t,” Weston states with full confidence.

“What are you two talking about?” They both turn to me, their lips pressed tight together, refusing to speak. “You can’t talk like that in front of me and then not tell me what you’re arguing about. Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Tell her,” Bower says, and I give him a thankful smile before turning back to the other two. “She can handle it. It’s not like she hasn’t killed someone herself.”

“Bower!” Reece hisses angrily, his eyes bouncing around as if someone might have overheard.

“He’s right, you can tell me, I won’t freak out, I promise.” I squeeze Reece’s hand in hopes of him agreeing.

His eyes bounce between mine as he works his jaw back and forth until he finally comes to a decision, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Fine, you tell her, West.”

I look at Weston as he moves closer, sitting in the chair close to my head so he can lower his voice to a whisper. “There are people that take care of things like this.” My eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Hitmen,” he clarifies as my eyes widen in surprise.

“You want to hire mercenaries?” I whisper in surprise.

He nods once. “They’re not like the mercenaries Richard hired. This is a secret organization that helps to get rid of people that are… shall we say, a stain on the world? People who the cops can’t catch or don’t have enough usable evidence to arrest.”

“And they just go on what other people tell them?”

“Yes and no. If they are given a name, they look into them and do their own research. If they don’t like what they see, they become judge and executioner.”

“Sweet baby killer! That’s… crazy! How do you even know about them, if they’re a secret?”

“I talked to my brother today, and he said he heard about them, but only knew the organization's name. I gave it to King, and he used his techy brain to find a contact within an hour. All we have to do is make the call.”

Kingsley looks at me as he adds, “As long as Frank and the mercenaries that were hired by Richard are still out there, you’re in danger. It’s not over until they are either all dead or behind bars.”

I look at Reece, and I can tell he doesn’t like the idea. “You don’t want to be responsible for killing people, I get that.”

“No, that’s not it,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want any of us to get in trouble for this. I don’t want their deaths to send any of us to prison.”

“It won’t,” Weston argues. These guys are professionals. Most of the time, a body is never even found, unless they need it to be.” I wrinkle my nose at that, not wanting to know what they do with the bodies.

“Reece,” Kingsley says, grabbing his attention. “Do you really want Frank, and who knows how many mercenaries out there somewhere? Ready to strike at any moment?”