Page 73 of Hurt

“What?” he asked, cocking his head as if it would help him hear better.

Roland stared at him until Elijah looked up at him.

“He said it’s empty. There was a virus installed to try and backtrack its way back to our systems. Owen thinks he caught it in time, but the Vega network has been erased.”

“This was a trap,” Roland said grimly as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Stop the virus and get the van out of here. We’ll rendezvous with you at the meet-up,” Elijah ordered. He turned from the cabinet then did a double take.

Suddenly his eyes widened.

“The Vegas are in construction, aren’t they?”

Roland nodded. “It’s one of their legal businesses.”

“We have to—”

He was cut off by the plate glass window at the front of the building exploding inwards. Someone had thrown something heavy through the front, and it landed with athud. Liquid splattered all over the room and on Roland, who had been standing in the doorway.

Before he could wonder what it was, the smell of gasoline hit him. Two full red plastic cans of gasoline had been thrown through the window. Elijah grabbed him just as he saw a plastic lighter arc through the window right into the puddle of gas. Flames exploded around them as they followed the accelerant that had spilled into the room.

Grabbing him with a surprising amount of strength, Elijah pushed Roland into the frosted window. The glass shattered with the weight of two men, and they tumbled onto the asphalt below the window just as the first massive explosion rocked the building.

“Go. Go. Go,” Elijah yelled hoarsely, dragging Roland up and sprinting across the lot.

The second explosion was bigger, triggering several more. They were knocked off their feet by the concussive blast. Asphalt ripped their palms and faces open, but they didn’t stop. Less of a run and more of a mad scramble, the Weavers ran for the front gate. The guards had all evacuated in anticipation of the explosion.

Their meet-up with Owen was the parking lot of a Waffle House. The engine was idling as they threw themselves in. Tires squealed as he peeled out of the parking lot.

Roland waited for Elijah to catch his breath.

“Amex,” he panted from the floor of the van, arms resting on his knees and head drooped. “I’ve never seen it before but recognized the name.”

“You saved us both,” Roland said as he noticed blood dripping off Elijah’s arm. Pulling up his sleeve, he saw burns and embedded glass on his right forearm.

“Jesus!” Owen shouted from the front seat, looking back at them in the rearview mirror.

“Focus on the road,” Roland commanded.

“It’s not bad,” Elijah said as he twisted his arm to look. “First-degree burns.”

“Glass will need to be removed,” Roland grunted.

Owen tossed back the jacket he had previously left in the front seat. Crumpling the material, he lightly pressed it to Elijah’s arm. The youth made a face as the material made contact with exposed nerves.

The Vega Cabal had not only known they were coming but had set up an elaborate trap. They couldn’t have known Roland would be in the operation, so it was likely just an attempt to kill the Weavers people rather than an assassination attempt. What was more worrying was the virus Owen said he had discovered. If the Vegas gained access to Weaver’s network, every single one of their people would be in danger.

He needed to get in contact with Grant, but he had to take care of Elijah first.

“Take us to The Sunspot.”

Grant was fast for his height. This alone surprised most of his opponents, but they also tended to underestimate his weapon of choice. A thin, long knife slicing through the air was hardly as intimidating as a gun. And it certainly didn’t inspire the same type of fear Jackson’s machete did—the hulking man cut through swaths of enemies with a strength that defied logic. He could take the head off a man with a single swing.

No, Grant was far more subtle. He liked his enemies dead before they even knew he had a weapon.

He lost count of the number of men in the warehouse after the first few minutes. It didn’t matter how many he struck down. His arm wouldn’t tire, not with the anger and the rage flowing through his muscles. Every time he thought his anger had reached its peak. He remembered the shuddered way Kurt had reached for him and his surprise at Grant’s touch. His rage had not yet hit its peak, and he hadn’t even made his way to Ezra. Thoughts of what he wanted to do to him filled his mind, but they were never enough. There was not enough pain in the world to make him suffer.

His cruel hands inflicting pain on Kurt, of taking away his life and self-worth—Grant grunted and used the pommel of his knife to crack a skull, spinning the thin blade in an arch to cleanly cut across an abdomen. Blood sprayed off the slick surface and onto his face. He relished the warm droplets.