Page 151 of Shrapnel

Mateo jerked his head up, eyes wide. They looked clearer than they had before. Maybe Noah taking his second hand corrected whatever imbalance was in his head.

“White Eyed Demon,” Mateo rasped, blood dribbling from between his lips.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Not very scary, is he? What’s his name?”

Mateo shook his head. “Don’t know.”

With a sigh, the big mercenary picked up a cordless drill off the table. “I wouldn’t stick around, kid. I’m going to pop his knee cap off.”

Owen ignored him, stepping up close to Mateo. “That man—the Demon—he’s bad, isn’t he?” Mateo didn’t respond but his eyes flicked to Owen. “I don’t want to hurt you, anymore. I think deep down, you’re afraid of the Demon. But he doesn’t care about you, does he?”

Mateo’s breaths rattled like a jar of coins. He shook his head.

“Why then? Why was he part of this?”

“Wanted the...gunman.”

“Jamie?” Owen scooted closer, his blood rushing in his ears. “He wanted Jamie? Why?”

Excitement fluttered in his chest, but Mateo looked pained. His eyelids drooped heavily. The blood running down his tattered clothes had started to congeal.

“Please,” Owen begged. He would get on his knees for answers. “I care about him. I want to save him.” He searched for something. Anything.

“Balance. It would right the balance. Right now, the Demon has three, that’s an unbalanced number. If we take Jamie back, it’ll be two. Perfectly balanced.”

That drew Mateo’s attention. His clumped eyelashes fluttered open, and his chapped lips parted.

“Dominic Renard.”

Distance distorted sound. Wind whipped in from the north carrying a frigid breeze that seeped into his uncovered fingers. Plumes of breath rose into the darkened sky, a dead giveaway if anyone was looking for him. Luckily for Jamie, no one was looking up into the darkened skyscrapers surrounding the gaudy gala entrance. He didn’t know the name of the hotel, but it must be fancy. All sorts of glossy vehicles with tinted windows were creeping around the block.

The M24 Ian insisted he use was accurate at 800 meters, but he knew he could make the shot at 1000, easy. The entrance of whatever fundraiser was going on was hovering right at 715 meters. Were it not for the constant movement below, he would be able to make this shot in his sleep.

He shifted his shoulders and adjusted the sight again. This was beyond a bad idea, but according to Dominic, the client wanted this public. Jamie didn’t ask what the fundraiser was for—he thought it was weird that people wore designer labels to an event that needed their money. Couldn’t they just donate the money they spent on clothes, travel, makeup and whatever else was needed for something like this?

His ribs twinged and he was reminded, again, that Ian didn’t care what he thought. The man had a right hook that should be classified as a WMD. According to Jamie’s ribs, anyway.

Ian grunted beside him, peering through a set of binoculars.

“You know, even Lassie barked occasionally,” Jamie pointed out.

He didn’t get a response, but he figured Ian was a laughing on the inside kind of guy.

The empty construction site was littered with wrappers and chunks of plaster and cement. It was the perfect vantage point to scope out the target. Since there was nothing valuable left at the site, there was no security to speak of. Jamie and Ian had waltzed right in and set up camp in one of the empty windows.

Jamie didn’t like the cold. It was making him feel stiff and sluggish. Breathing was difficult too, no thanks to his sore ribs. Not that he would complain. Not again. Ian was less tolerant of his comments when Dominic wasn’t around. Perversely, he was beginning to feel safe around Dominic.Stockholm, is that you? It’s me, Jamie.

“This is it,” Ian said.

Jamie wondered if the reason he didn’t like to talk was because his voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard or if his voice sounded like that because he didn’t use it. Kind of one of those chicken and egg type questions. No real answer and it didn’t matter anyway.

The black SUV rolled to the curb of the red carpet just as snow began to fall. More like frost that fizzled out the moment it landed; the white clumps drifted to rest on his eyelashes. Briefly Jamie focused on the white smudge in his eyeline. It was pretty. They didn’t get that back home.

He sighed and focused on the car. A beefy dude in a cheap suit opened the rear door and a suave looking older woman stepped from the car. Easily in her sixties, she was the definition of a MILF. Hard body with eyes that raked through every man there, she knew what she was. Light bulbs flashed as she stepped forward, the glitter on her dress catching with everysnickof the lenses.

A faux fur wrap was draped across her shoulders. Snowy white, it offset her dark bobbed haircut.

Jamie wasn’t allowed to ask why she had to die. Dominic had just told him to shut up and pull the trigger. That’s all he ever said. If Jamie was capable of feeling anything for him, he might be hurt by that. By the way he manipulated everyone around him. He had met some spectacular liars, but Dominic took the cake.