Page 63 of Used

“Small,” Anvil mumbles reassuringly, putting his thumb over the wound and pressing it.

She winces.

“Just to stop the bleeding. You’re okay,” he tells her.

“Here, Trick.” Zoe shoves a blanket she’s stolen from some bed at me.

“Cover her for me,” I say, shooting to my feet, my eyes scanning.

C’s got the guy by the throat near the path.

When I reach them, I hit the guy in the face so hard he doesn’t have time to drop before I hit him again. When he’s on the ground, two more blows land before I hear him trying to speak. I stop to listen.

“Enzo—a joke—”

I hit him one more time for good measure, busting his nose before I get up. I tear my soaked suit coat off for better mobility and turn. I don’t have to search for Enzo. He and two of his bodyguards approach fast. One of his guys reaches the guy on the ground and drags him to his feet, then hands him my discarded suit coat for his bleeding face.

Enzo smiles at us. That’s the wrong thing to do.

He tries to back up in time, but doesn’t. My fist slams into the left side of his face. He falls backward and lands on the ground. Guns are drawn, but no one’s fast enough to keep me from getting my barrel against Enzo’s forehead.

Enzo’s eyes are wide, and he pants for breath, holding out a hand to his guys. “No, no.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Anvil arrive to stand at my nine o’clock.

“Control your boy, McCann,” Enzo barks.

“From where I’m standing, he’s got control.”

“Make your move then,” Enzo says to me.

I give him credit for the dead-eyed challenge he issues. His father Frank never could’ve won a stare-down with a gun to his head.

I straighten up, my gun still aimed at his head. Until I’m flush with C, I can’t see the lay of the land, but when I get my back against the bricks on the side of the house, I lower my gun enough to start a chain reaction.

Enzo stands and brushes off his clothes, then spits on the ground at my feet. He may have hit my shoes or pant leg, but everything’s soaking wet anyway, so I can’t tell.

The corner of Enzo’s mouth pulls up. “Now I know for sure. In poker, you’re hard to read. But in life, you’ve got your tells, Patrick. Any picture of you I’ve ever seen, when a woman’s talking to you, you lean your head toward her to listen. Check the hashtag Trick, you’ll see what I mean. So at the poker game, when you didn’t look at the girl when she flirted with you, I thought what’s going on? Then you dragged her out of that basement when you left and I thought, he’s got a thing for this one. She matters to him. After your swan dive off the balcony just now, I know for sure, Romeo.” He walks past, then stops and turns. “You know your other tell? In a gunfight, you never take the easy shot or wait for one. Because you don’t have to. So when a man’s shot in the throat while riding in a moving car, who but you could’ve made the shot? No one.” His smirk drops as he looks at me, then returns as he looks at his guys. “Come on, fellas, let’s get Roy’s face taken care of. And maybe get some coffee for the FBI and see if they’ll let us watch an instant replay of our friend Scott Patrick pulling a gun on a man for throwing a girl in a pool.”

When they’re gone, I holster my gun. Then I head back, but I only take a couple of steps toward the backyard before Zoe and Laurel appear at the end of the path and start toward us. She’s shivering enough for me to see it from twenty feet away, but I’ve got nothing dry to put on her.

When she reaches me, she puts a hand on my arm. “Are you all right?”

My nod is a sharp jerk. I don’t trust myself not to curse if I ask her the same question, so I don’t.

When we leave the path through the front gate, C, Anvil, and I take a formation around Zoe and Laurel. We put Zoe in a Rover first.

“You coming to the house?” C asks me.

I nod.

He gets in Rover One with Zoe and sits safely behind the bulletproof glass. Anvil walks with Laurel and me to the other Rover. Once she’s inside, we look around the street. C pulls Rover One alongside, providing cover as Anvil gets in with them and I get in Rover Two.

Turning on the seat warmers and heat for Laurelyn, I follow C’s taillights back to the C Crue stronghold.

Laurel checks her phone and sighs.

“What? Monet’s still out?”