Page 132 of Kane

Then one.

And then I leap. I drop low into a crouch, and then surge upward and forward. The moment I move, Anjalee drives her elbow backward into Jiwan’s stomach and then drops to the floor, hands over her head.

The gun goes off—deafening in the small room; my ears ring. I feel something hot slice along my face, across my cheekbone, stinging my left earlobe, and cutting my neck just beneath and behind my ear. Just by the feel of it, I know it’s a superficial wound, not worth worrying about even if it stings like a motherfucker. My shoulder hits Jiwan and he slams into the wall—I hear his head crack against the drywall and he grunts. I spare a split-second glance at Anjalee—she’s rolled away and is crawling to the opposite corner, eyes on me.

She’s out of the way, unharmed—I focus my attention on Jiwan, now, and let loose a very small sliver of my rage.

I lash upward with a fist, catch him in the ribs as hard as I can—I feel bone splinter and he howls. Again, same spot. A third time. He’s collapsed forward now, gasping and gurgling in agony. I grab his gun hand and twist hard—once more, bone cracks and he screams. I strip the pistol away from him and steps back, shove it behind my waistband. He’s whimpering, clutching his ribs with his good hand, his broken one hanging down by his side.

I feel a growl surge out of me, and before I know what I’m doing, I have him by the throat, pinned against the wall. My fingers tighten, and my bicep bulges as I strain, lifting Jiwan clear of the floor. He makes a hissing gurgle, and his feet dangle, kicking.

I stare into his eyes. “Motherfucker…I told you. I fuckin’ told you.”

“Please…” he manages, his voice thin and hoarse, barely a whisper.

“Kidnapped my woman right outta the mall, and you think you’d get away with it? You got no fuckin’cluewho you’re dealin’ with.” I squeeze harder; his face turns red, and his jaw works. “Think you’d get away with it?”

I feel a small warm hand on my forearm. “Kane, let him go, please.” Anjalee, her concerned eyes on me. “I am all right. They did not hurt me.”

I ignore her and squeeze harder. “She never sees your fuckin’ face again. Never.”

He blinks desperately, jerks his chin down once in assent. “Yes.” It’s not even a squeak.

“You don’t even say her goddamn name in your sleep. You do, I’ll find you, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Kane, please.” Her fingers touch my bicep, where the tattooed brand is. “You are killing him. Let him go.”

It takes effort. I have to force my fingers to release one by one, and then I drop him. He slumps to the floor, gasping, coughing, rasping in rough, shuddery breaths.

Sirens howl.

“Gotta go, brother,” Rev says. “About to get hot.”

I grab Anjalee’s hand and we haul ass out of the house—out the back door. Anjalee peers behind us at the bodies on the floor.

“Are they dead?” she asks.

“Not yet,” I say.

She glances up at me as we reach the alley. “I thought you swore not to kill anyone.”

“I don’t even have a gun,” I say. I jerk my thumb at Zane. “That was him.”

She looks at Zane, then at me. “And who is he?”

“He’s another of Xavier’s brothers.”

She holds her next question until we reach the G-Wagen and are buckled in and heading away. She twists to look at Zane, who is the back seat with Rev, while I drive. “You shot someone for me?”

He grins. “Shot four someones for you, babe.” He winks. “Wasn’t nothin’.”

“I heard many shots,” she says.

“Didn’t even come close to me.” I catch his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Your man is bleeding pretty good, though.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Superficial. Not even worth stitches.”

She leans over and peers around my jaw—the wound is on my left side, away from her. “It is quite more serious than that I am afraid. Your earlobe is entirely gone.” She touches my cheekbone very gently. “The cut here is not so bad, however.”