Page 8 of Lovely Venom

“Get Blade and Jett out of here,” I whisper to Rhys. “I’ll deal with the agent.”

A woman I can’t admit I fucked.

I give one last glance and prepare to walk away. I know where to find her. I know where she works now. I just hope she survives this day.

“What the fuck?”the guy buying Havok’s white thunder hollers. “Who the fuck is that?”

I turn back around to see the buyer pointing a gun right atherhead.

Oh,fuck.

I don’t think. I point my gun and start shooting.

CHAPTER FOUR

Raina

My nostrils sting from the smell of a backed-up toilet and body odor. Crouched down behind a stack of wooden crates of booze, I have a Glock in my grip and two knives sheathed on my thigh.

I fuckinglovemy life.

Steam wafts up from the damp concrete floor, sweat dripping into my eyes. It’s still ninety degrees even though the sun’s gone down.

I have a clear shot of the douchebag I’ve been hunting for six months. Havok is a drug distributor with a nasty reputation for cutting off fingersbeforeasking questions. With an MO like that, he can only be a contract dealer for the Colombians.

ATF, NYPD, and the local Fed office called the DEA to track down this psycho. My death-wish-loving boss assigned me and my team.

With Havok doing a solo drop-off, this raid should be simple. A textbook-controlled takedown. Get the exchange on video for the DA and then move in for the arrest.

My earpiece crackles with Ruin’s voice.

“Riot? Sitrep?”

I grit my teeth, hearing my call sign: Riot. With a last name Riatt, I sort of walked right into that one when I joined the task force.

But my team calls me that because when I work an op, things tend to break, blow up, or burn. Sometimes all three. Right now, my cheesy nickname feels like a bad omen.

“Havok is in play,” I murmur into the micsticking out from my right ear. “He’s made the sale. He’s counting the money.”

“You were right about this place being his new drop point, Riot,” my partner says from our van outside.

“Careful, Rage. Meyers might hear you compliment me.” I gag, mentioning our agent in charge, who hates me.

“That’s what happens when you fuck the boss and then get bored three weeks later,” Ruin, my backup, who rounds out our trio, taps into the conversation.

I didn’t get bored with Meyers, he got blown out of the waterbed by the stallion who fucked me senseless that night in June after another op to take down Havok went sideways. I left Ruby’s club when she disappeared into the VIP room with a client.

I found a dive bar and a set of blue eyes I couldn’t turn away from. I knew I’d never see that place or the guy again. It was only one night, but that tall, handsome stranger with tattoos, muscles, and soft mahogany hair left his hooks in me. Once you devour a New York Porterhouse steak, ground beef won’t do.

Ignoring Ruin, I say, “I got Havok handing over the drugs and counting the money on my body cam. We move on my—”

“Shooter locked on you, Riot!” Ruin warns sharply into my ear. “It’s the buyer. Move now!”

Gunfire explodes to my right, ripping through a crate of Jack Daniels, splashing sweet-perfumed whiskey all over me.

What the hell?

A trigger-happy junkie blew my element of surprise. Now, I’m in the middle of a warzone and ducking bullets that are shredding crates of booze.