What if I had been any later?

“He fucking touched her!” I screamed.  I looked to Lia’s crying face as I struggled against Jonathan’s grip.  I kicked backwards and connected with some part of Jonathan’s leg, but he didn’t let up.  Luisa had an arm around Lia’s shoulders and was glaring at me.

“You aren’t helping!” Luisa spat.  “For Christ’s sake, Evan, stop it!”

“He…he…” I couldn’t bring forth words.  I couldn’t even understand the incredible rage I felt inside of me.  I’d never wanted someone dead so badly.  I wanted to tear him apart with my hands.  I wanted his blood all over me.  I wanted to revel in his screams of agony.

Jonathan held me firmly.

“I know, brotha,” he said calmly.  “I’m gonna be right there with ya when we make that motherfucker pay for it, too.  But not right now.  Right now, you have to get your shit together and think.  She’s still alive.  If you go off like this, she’s just going to have to deal with you getting yourself killed.”

I looked at her and watched more tears fall from her cheeks and onto her shirt.  I pushed against Jonathan once more but with only minimal effort.  He slowly loosened his grip as I tried to get my breath back under control, but he didn’t let go entirely.

“I want his fucking balls on a platter,” I snarled over my shoulder.  Jonathan let go, and I dropped back down on the couch next to Lia.  I reached over, moving slowly because I knew I had scared her, and ran my hand down her arm.  She stroked my cheek.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” she whispered.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the only words I had were of blood and violence so I closed it again.  I reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumb.

“We’ll git ‘em,” Jonathan promised, “but we do it smart, right?  We gotta find him, first.”

“I know where he is,” Milena said.

Jonathan grabbed my arm again as I stood up and took a step toward Nick’s girlfriend.

“Easy, brotha.”

“Where?” I asked.  “Tell me where—right fucking now!”

Nick stepped forward and took Milena’s hand.  He was obviously ticked off at the way I was talking to her, but I didn’t give a shit.  If she didn’t give me what I wanted, I’d gut her right in front of him.

“He’s with Rurik,” Milena said.  “Micah’s with him, too.”

“Where?” I demanded again.

“I’ll tell you,” Milena said, “but there’s a condition.”

I pulled out my Beretta, cocked it, and aimed it at her head.

“The condition,” I told her, “is you getting to live for telling me what I want to know.”

Nick moved in front of her, but Milena—bravely or stupidly—pushed his arm away to look right at me.  I saw Rinaldo roll his eyes, which meant he didn’t realize how serious I was.

“No, that’s not the condition,” Milena said, “well, not the only one, anyway.  Micah’s my brother.  He can be as dumb as a box of rocks, but he’s still my brother.  I don’t want him dead.”

“I’m not making any fucking promises,” I snarled.

“Then you’ll have to shoot me and figure it out for yourself,” she said with a shrug.

“Me, too,” Nick piped up.

I moved the business end of the Beretta to Nick.

“Evan.”  Rinaldo’s voice held a warning I couldn’t completely ignore.

I took in a long breath and huffed it out my nose sharply before I dropped the gun to point at the floor.  If I was going to be the least bit successful, I needed Rinaldo on my side.  I couldn’t do that if I shot his kid.  I glared at Milena.

“Fine,” I said.  “He lives.  Tell me.”

“There’s a construction site just south of Quay—a little restaurant and bar on East Illinois.”

“I know the place,” I said.

“There’s a little outbuilding there—that’s where they are hiding.  Davies is there with them along with that other guy who’s always with him.  At least, they were headed there a few hours ago.”

“Johnson,” I said.

“That’s not his name,” Milena said with a shake of her head.  “He’s Russian, too.”

“Figures,” I muttered.

“Hey!” Nick called out in protest.

“Enough, Nicholas,” Rinaldo responded.  He walked forward and took his illegitimate son’s arm to lead him over to the opposite couch and sit him and Milena down away from me.  “Evan, do you have what you need?”

“All I need is this,” I said, indicating the weapon in my hand.

“I’m going with ya,” Jonathan said with conviction.

I wasn’t going to argue with him.

“Then go take care of your business,” Rinaldo said.  “We’ll watch over Lia.”

I moved back over to Lia, and she stood up to meet me.  I held her against me for a moment.  We parted slightly, and I looked into her eyes, still red from crying.

“I’ll be back soon,” I told her.  “Then we’re gone, you hear me?  We’re going to leave.”

I turned my attention to Rinaldo.

“I’m done here,” I told him.  “This is my last job, and then I’m out—permanently.”

His eyes went dark, but he didn’t argue.  He didn’t agree, either.

“We’ll discuss that when you return,” he said with a meaningful look.

I leaned in close to Lia.

“We’ll leave as soon as this is done,” I vowed.  It was a promise I intended to keep.

She closed her eyes and nodded.  We touched our foreheads together, and I leaned a little closer to press my lips softly and briefly to hers before I turned to leave with Jonathan behind me.

“I’m going to need a drink when all this is done,” Jonathan said as we went out into the hallway.

I was about to respond when an explosion rocked the house.

The blast was enough to send both Jonathan and me to the ground.  I rolled to the side, Beretta out, and looked back down the hall toward Rinaldo’s office.  The door had been blown off completely, and there was debris everywhere.

“Lia!”

I shoved myself up and ran back down the corridor.  I could hear Jonathan’s footsteps behind me, but all my focus was on what was up ahead.  The window of the den had been blown out completely, the bookshelf was toppled over, and people were coming in from outside.

“Motherfucker!”  Rinaldo was screaming.  “How dare you come to my house?  My house!”

Shots rang out, but I couldn’t pay attention to them because I couldn’t see Lia anywhere.  I pushed my way into the room and tried to make out shapes through the dust that clouded the air.  I could hear more shouting and recognized the voices, but I was too focused to register whose they were.

“Evan!”

To my right was the toppled bookshelf, and Lia was on the floor next to it.  I rushed over to her and knelt down.

“Luisa!” Lia cried as she pointed to the shelf.

I could see one of her legs and part of an arm sticking out from underneath it.  Crouching down, I got a good grip on the edge and shoved up with my legs as hard as I could.  The shelf only moved a foot, but it was enough for Lia to grab onto Luisa and pull her out from under it.

She was bleeding from a gash in the back of her head, and her arm was obviously broken.  I checked her head, but the gash wasn’t deep—just a lot of blood.  I pulled off my shirt and held it against her scalp as I pulled her and Lia back behind the upturned couch.

With the Beretta back in my hand, I peered out to the scene in the room.

Rurik Dytalov and Micah Severinov were right at the edge of the window surrounded by three of their goons.  Micah was yelling at Milena.

“You never fucking listen to me!” he screamed.  “You’ve joined the fucking enemy!”

Nick pushed Milena to the side as Micah fired.  She fell amongst fallen books and Rinaldo’s globe-shaped bar as Nick screamed and dropped down beside her.

“Nicholas!” Rinaldo cried.

His gun fired rapidly toward the two Russians, but my attention was drawn to the figure behind them.

Kyle Davies.

His eyes met mine, and everything I was feeling before abruptly resurfaced.  It wasn’t just a feeling, either—I could see it.  I could see him holding Lia down on the floor of that warehouse and threatening her.  I could hear the words she said he spoke, and I could see the terror in her eyes has he forced her to the ground.

“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” I screamed as I pushed away from the couch and ran forward, gun firing into the dust-filled air.

A flash brightened my peripheral vision, and a searing pain in my calf caused me to lose my footing in the mess of glass, wood, and brick scattered around the floor.   My head slammed hard onto the floor, and my Beretta flew from my hand as bright spots formed in my vision.

Johnson was on me a second later, slamming my shoulders into the ground as I rolled to grab for him through blurry vision.  He pulled back to try to aim his weapon in my face, but I grabbed his arm, twisted it, and shoved his head to the floor into a pile of glass.  He screamed, and I pulled his head back to slam it down again.  One of the pieces of glass embedded in his neck, and blood began to pour onto the floor.

More shouts.  More shots.  I didn’t even know where they were coming from.  My head was pounding, and I still couldn’t see clearly.  Blood covered my arm, but I held firmly to the back of Johnson’s neck until he stopped struggling, his face a mess of gashes.  Just as I released him, a sharp blow to my gut sent me reeling to the side.

A burst of nausea trampled its way through me.  I shook my head to try to clear it, and when I looked up, Davies stood over me, his gun in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“You get it all figured out, asshole?” he snarled down at me.

“I figured out you’re a dickless piece of shit,” I replied.  “You can’t handle me yourself, so you have to pick on girls.”