The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(23)

“In a minute,” Peter said to the man, clearly irritated. “Well, Sam, I hate to say it, but that means you’re going to have to pay more.”

“Well, I hate to say this too, Peter—but I’m clean out. This job… it went down pretty bad, and a lot of our stuff went missing. But don’t worry, I’ll be able to get you double the amount through our usual contact soon.”

Peter’s affable expression tightened. “Double? When?”

Owen gave an exasperated tsk. “Soon enough for you. Peter, please, trust me. How long have we been in business together, man?”

“Boss,” called the same man, his narrow eyes glittering at me.

“I’m working up here, man. Tell me in a minute.” Peter rolled his eyes at Owen, who smiled back amiably. He considered Owen for a long moment as he rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling with his ponytail. “I can’t do it, man. You’ve been good for business, sure, but I can’t smuggle you in with some vague promise of—”

At this point, the man behind Peter lost his patience. “Boss, you’re gonna want to hear this.”

Peter’s jaw clenched in irritation. He gave Owen a long, hard stare. “Excuse me for a second,” he said to Owen before whirling on his heel and stalking back to the man, who urged him farther away from us, standing in the truck’s headlights.

I leaned in close to Owen. “Do you know what’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Owen shook his head, his face tight. “Not sure, but it isn’t good.”

Peter turned back toward us, and this time his eyes lingered on me, giving me a long, appraising look. I smiled with mock cheer, and he turned back. The two conversed furtively for several more seconds, and then Peter stalked back, shaking his head.

I folded my hands behind my back as he approached, carefully lifting my shirt up so I could put my hand on the gun I was keeping there, tucked into the waistband. Peter approached us with a smile, but I could see a hard gleam in his eyes, as if a switch had been thrown.

“Sorry about that, man,” he started to say, and I pulled the gun on him. Owen flinched next to me. Peter froze, his eyes widening in fury, but the men behind him started to reach for their guns.

“Don’t,” I said, and they all went very still. “I will shoot him.”

Peter looked at me and the gun, and slowly raised his hands. “Donald was right,” he sneered. “You’re a warden.”

I gave him a little shrug. “Not at this very moment, but technically, yes.”

“Not just a warden,” the man with the moustache said, his voice dripping hate. “He’s Viggo Croft. You thought you could fool us, eh? Didn’t think we’d call your bluff? I’ve had you on my list for years, Croft.”

“And yet here I am, holding your leader at gunpoint,” I said tightly. “Did you predict that too?”

“There are six of us and two of you,” Peter broke in. “No offense, man, but not exactly your best odds.”

Just then, Owen put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, and in moments, Violet, Ms. Dale, Tim, and Jay pushed out of the trees in a rush, weapons bared and fists raised. I knew that Violet held her gun in her off hand, but you would have never guessed it from the confidence with which she stared down the barrel at the six men.

“I think the odds may have shifted,” I remarked. “Guns on the ground. Now.”

The vein in Peter’s jaw throbbed as he glared at me. “Put ’em down, boys—go slowly, eh? We don’t want these psycho women getting all trigger-happy on us.” He turned to Violet. “You aren’t on your period, are you? Because if you are, your man should never have given you a g—”

He never finished what he had to say. I had already crossed the small distance between us and struck him in the jaw. He crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide in shock. I stood over him, daring him to get back up, riding my fury like a bird riding the winds of a thunderstorm.

“You ever talk to her, or any woman, like that again,” I hissed as soon as he focused on me, “I will end you, your crew, and anyone else related to your stupid gang.”

I caught a tiny smile crossing Violet’s face out of the corner of my eye as I stepped back. Peter climbed back to his feet, rubbing his jaw, his expression murderous.

“So, what, you’re going to leave us out here?” he snarled. “How are you going to get across the border?”

I gave him a droll look. “I’m a warden, idiot. They’ll let me in. Now—you and your friends start walking. Head toward the river. I see any of you come back, I’ll put a bullet in your heads without thinking about it. Got it?”

Peter sneered again. “We ‘got it’. Let’s go, men.”

“Thanks for letting us borrow your truck,” Violet chirped after them as they reluctantly moved away.

As they shambled toward the river, pushing into the grass, the group of us kept our sights trained on where their backs disappeared into the dark for well after they were gone.

“I wish we could’ve tied them all up and arrested them,” I growled, and Violet nodded in agreement, her face stiff. I knew she was thinking of her own kidnapping by the Porteque gang.

As soon as we were reasonably certain they were gone, I looked at Owen. “Grab their guns and let’s get moving. I’m going to keep watching the riverbank until we’re on our way.”