Hush (Black Lotus #3)(72)

“You move fast.”

“You want to live, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m here to save your life, so I need you to do this my way.” I’m firm in my tone and a tad shocked when he keeps his mouth shut and listens. “I don’t want any f*ck-ups or you getting greedy on me. We’re meeting tonight. You’re to call the shark to meet us. I’ll make the transfer from my phone and wait until we get the verification from the shark’s account that the money has been successfully transferred.”

“Come alone. The last thing I need is your boyfriend f*cking shit up because he can’t keep his cool.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be alone,” I lie. “You have ten minutes to call me back to tell me the location of our meeting place.”

I hang up before he can respond and look to Declan. He smiles. “Good girl.”

He takes a seat next to me as we wait in the darkened room, the only light coming from the glow of a lamp on the entryway table. Declan drapes his arm around my shoulder, and when I turn my head to him, he peers at me through dilated eyes, exposing the devil inside. He’s the creation of my monstrosity.

I touch his face, and he kisses me with venomous passion before ripping away from me when my cell vibrates against the wooden table.

“Yes?” I answer.

“Twenty minutes. Metra railroad yard. Meet under the Roosevelt overpass.”

“How many are coming?”

“Just me and Marco, the shark.”

“Twenty minutes.”

I disconnect the call and tell Declan where we’re meeting. He grabs his gun and then goes to the entry closet where the safe is. I can hear the beeps of the keypad as he enters the code, and when the steel door slams shut, he returns with another revolver.

“Just in case,” he says when he hands me the gun.

It’s heavy and cold in my hand, and when I release the cylinder, I see that every chamber is loaded.

“You know the plan?”

I nod.

“Tell me.”

“I know the plan.”

“You’re not to draw your gun unless absolutely necessary, okay?”

Blood swims rapidly through my body, and when I slip the gun into the back waistband of my pants, I lower my top and shrug my coat on to conceal it.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” I tell him and then walk into his arms for comfort and strength. He holds me, kisses the top of my head, and assures, “We stick to the plan and then it’ll all be over and we can go back home, okay?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

Declan goes first, leaving me behind until I get his call. I wait anxiously as he goes to switch off the security cameras. After a few minutes of pacing the room, my phone rings.

“I’m in my office,” he states.

I move quickly, making my way down to him, and we exit the building through the back corridors that lead into the parking garage. Before I know it, we’re zipping through the streets of Chicago on our way to the river.

The drive is tense. No words are spoken at all. We both know our parts and what we have to do.

Turning into the train yard, Declan hits the lights. Everything goes black as we weave through lines of train cars. When we edge closer to the water, I spot Matt with a tall man, thick with bulky muscles.

“That’s him,” I whisper.

Declan stops the car and shuts it off. “You ready?”

Our eyes lock. “Yes.”

The moment Declan opens his door, Matt draws his gun and fires. It’s a botched shot, but sends me into instant defense mode. Without sparing a second, all guns are drawn in an outburst of chaos.

“What the f*ck, Elizabeth?” Matt shouts, but my focus is on the automatic Marco has aimed at me while Declan claims Matt as his target.

So many words are being thrown around at the same time as sparks of fear ignite within me.

“On your f*cking knees,” Declan yells.

“Fuck you!” Matt throws back.

It’s a frenzy all around me, but my only point of concentration is right in front of me—Marco and his gun.

“Elizabeth,” Declan’s voice calls from behind in worriment, to which I respond in a steady voice, “I’m okay.”

“What the f*ck is wrong with you?” The shark snaps at Matt, berating him as he keeps his gun pointed at me.

“Marco,” I greet in a strong voice, needing him to see me as nothing other than a woman in complete control. He stands a good one foot taller than me and the moon reflects off his shiny bald head. He’s intimidating as hell, but I refuse to let it show. “I’m not looking to bullshit around tonight. The fact that my pistol is on you is a mere result of your client firing his gun. Clearly he’s as dumb as he looks because without us, you don’t get your money and he’s a dead man.” With Marco’s gun targeted on me, I instruct, “You need money from this ass wipe, and I intend on covering his part along with enough to make you forget this night ever happened. But I’m going to need you to holster your gun. You do that, and mine is down as well. But you need to get that little shit under control too.”

“You’re my kind of girl. Elizabeth, right?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be; I’m not here to make friends.”