The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(56)
When a red bloom appeared at the front of Blackjack’s t-shirt, Juliet was just as shocked as he was. For a long beat, she could only stare. The bullet struck the criminal a few inches below his heart.
She probably shouldn’t stay long enough to see if the wound was fatal or not.
At that precise moment, a strong hand took hold of the collar of her shirt and yanked her upward. Juliet turned with a wild cry, gun still at hand, only to find Bosh behind her, his nose bloodied and one eye swelling closed. “Let’s go.”
As if she needed any more invitation. Juliet hurried after Bosh from the convenience store and into the sunlight. The brightness seemed almost wrong after what had just happened - Juliet was pretty certain at least one person had died and they had stepped over Crowley’s bleeding form as they ran for the car. As little as Juliet liked him she had never wished him dead, and she could only hope that wasn’t his fate.
In a trice, Bosh had all but shoved her into the backseat of the car and was pulling away from the curb, even as he reached for his phone. Juliet only dimly registered that he was talking to Simmons - telling him that they had an agent down and needed a team at the convenience store they’d just left.
Somehow, it all felt surreal. After ten years of living in an environment where violence was the norm, Juliet had been wrapped in a cocoon of safety for months. In that four months, she’d grown surprisingly used to the peace and isolation of the cabin. To have it so rudely broken was a reminder of what faced her if she didn’t watch her back - exactly what she was up against.
And it was terrifying.
“We’re going back to the cabin.” The moment Bosh was off the phone with Simmons, he addressed her. “And you’re not leaving again. Not until all this is over.”
“Hank.” Juliet’s mind fell to the man so naturally there was little hesitation before she asked about him. “Can Simmons tell Hank what happened?”
“Maybe, but probably not. It’s difficult to contact someone in deep cover, Juliet. Unless you want to expose the man.”
That most certainly wasn’t what she wanted. What Juliet wanted was for Hank to be safe - though considering he was in a den full of criminals the likes of which she’s just escaped, she couldn’t imagine he was.
Not by a long shot.
Chapter 12: Taken
The entire house was in an uproar.
Currently, Hank wasn’t quite sure what the fuck had happened - only that Blackjack and the man he’d taken out that morning hadn’t returned, and Solomon was throwing a fucking fit. Despite the fact that his hands had long itched to close around the man’s throat for over a decade, Hank had long learned that he had to shove his own desires deep down.
Especially when he was working so close to the man himself.
It had taken him a remarkably short length of time to work his way into Solomon’s inner circle. Of course, he had the extensive information that Juliet had provided on his side as well, so he knew exactly what the bastard was looking for. It wasn’t hard to play the part - big, bad, stupid and mindlessly loyal. That was all Solomon required from his men.
He certainly had the big part down, and he was sure that Juliet might argue that he was plenty stupid a vast majority of the time. The thought was almost enough to make him smile - but the men he currently kept company with weren’t the best at smiling. They glowered and did their best to look like badasses all the time. Funny, considering Hank was pretty sure that he could best most of them in a fight.
There had, of course, been many fights. Hank was constantly having to prove himself - the fact didn’t surprise him. Men that worked for Solomon were always itching to get their hands dirty. He, on the other hand, was ready for all of this to be over. To get back to Juliet and give her the good news.
But that wasn’t going down today - or any time soon apparently. The guys had started to whisper that Solomon suffered a huge fucking blow today - something that could only serve to make him more paranoid. If the din from upstairs was any indication, the man was pissed as hell. Though every man that worked for him was bigger than the bastard, they were all terrified of him.
With good reason. Solomon had a bad habit of putting bullets through the heads of guys he didn’t like. Hank would have very much liked to return the favor, but the timing wasn’t right - among other things.
Just now, it sounded like Solomon was trying to bring the house down. A deafening crash from above made every man below jump a moment before Solomon bellowed a bevy of curses in both English and Spanish. About thirty minutes ago, Shawn, one of Blackjack’s right-hand men, had come in looking grim as a motherfucker. Of course, it had fallen to him to talk to Solomon and Hank’s hands fisted in tension as he wondered if the man would come back alive.
Hank could only imagine one thing that would rattle Solomon’s composure so hard: Something had happened to Blackjack.
Through both Juliet’s information and working with Solomon himself, Hank had come to know just how important Angus “Blackjack” Creed was to his organization. In the absence of his father’s financial support, Blackjack provided both moral and physical support to Solomon and his smaller distribution. He could get where the younger man couldn’t and do the few things he wasn’t willing to do. He was Solomon’s right-hand man - and one of his most trusted friends. Hank tried not to think about what it meant that one of your most trusted friends was a murderer and rapist. It only made him angrier.