“Can’t you feel it?”I murmur, my voice low but sure.“They’re five minutes out.Hell, can’t you hear the engine?”
A distant hum, the faintest whisper of an engine, breaks through the stillness.It’s coming.We’ve been waiting too long, but now it’s here, just as I knew it would be.
Ranger tilts his head, his eyes scanning the still waters again as if he’s hoping the boat will simply appear on its own.Fury, standing off to the side, is grinning like he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to crack a joke.
“Even I can hear it.You’re slipping, old man.”Fury’s voice carries that familiar teasing tone, and I can see Ranger stiffen out of the corner of my eye.
Ranger’s eyes flash, his teeth flashing white in the dim light as his jaw tightens.“Who you calling ‘old man?’” he growls, stepping a little closer, tension coiling in his stance.
Fury chuckles, the sound low and mocking.“Your kind is so fucking sensitive.Like I said before, calm the fuck down.”
I let out a sigh and rub the back of my neck.Fury is grinning now, clearly enjoying this, and I can already feel the heat rising in Ranger’s chest.Dammit, I should’ve known better than to bring these two together.Fury likes to stir up trouble, and Ranger has that instinct to snap at anything that feels off.
Every.
Time.
“Enough,” I snap, my voice firm and cutting through the air, a whip’s crack.
Ranger doesn’t need to be told twice.His shoulders drop, the tension easing from his stance, but I can still see the irritation flicker in his eyes.He hates being pushed, but he knows when to back down.
“Here they come,” I say, nodding toward the horizon, where a faint light is finally beginning to show through the darkness.
Ranger’s fists unclench, Fury straightens, and they are back to being the men I need them to be instead of their constant bickering.
The boat pulls up to the end of the dock, the engine sputtering to a stop as it creaks against the wooden posts.A man jumps off and strides toward us, his boots thudding heavily on the planks.
“You got the cash?”he asks, his voice rough but sure.
I match his gaze.“You got our goods?”
“Yeah,” he grunts.“They’ll unload it as soon as we get paid.”
“Doesn’t work that way,” I retort, my voice cold.“Put it on the dock, and you’ll get your money.”
The man spits into the water, his eyes narrowing as he considers me.Without a word, he turns and walks back to his boat, his silhouette disappearing in the dim light.Moments later, three other men appear from the shadows and begin unloading the crates.The sound of the cargo hitting the wooden dock echoes in the still night air.
They take thirty minutes, but when they’re finally done, and I’ve counted all the goods, their leader jumps off the boat, and I hand him an envelope sealed tight with cash.
He holds it up, then waves it in the air with a grin.“Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Aren’t you going to count it?”I ask, raising an eyebrow, not entirely trusting this piece of shit.
He shakes his head, his lips curling into a smirk.“Nah, I trust you.”
But it’s then I hear it—the subtle click of a gun being cocked.My body tenses, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.These bastards are going to try to fuck us over.
I step forward, closing the distance between us until I’m an inch away from him.
My voice is low, menacing.“Don’t do it.Tell your men to stand down, or you won’t live to see the dawn.”
He smiles, a mocking tilt of his lips, and shrugs, trying to play it cool.“There are only three of you and four of us.”
Before he finishes, the air cracks with the sound of a shot.I don’t hesitate.My head slams into the man in front of me with a sickening crunch, and from the way he drops, with blood spurting from his nose and dull eyes, I know he’s dead.I barely register the pain as I move, my body already in motion, vaulting over the crates of booze, a predator on the hunt.
Fury is a blur of motion, too fast to track.His fists are hammering into one guy’s face, the blows coming so fast that all I can see is a mess of blood and broken bone.Ranger is already on the move, and I don’t need to look to know he’s got blood on his hands—he’s always the first to draw crimson.
I stalk toward the last man standing.His mouth hangs open, his eyes wide with panic as he watches Fury, his shotgun wavering uselessly in his hand.Ranger is creeping up behind him, the glint in his eyes unmistakable—he’s hungry for blood.
