God, I want a nap.

Chapter Forty-Nine

RYDER

Sitting in the car down the road from the hotel, I check my guns and weapons as we survey it. “They will be keeping her somewhere safe, probably below the actual hotel. They will be heavily manned, but I don’t expect the whole Triad to be here—it’s too dangerous having them all in one place. It’s going to get messy. Stay close, check your corners, and watch each other’s back. We move from room to room until we get her,” I order, strapping my vest on. It will protect me a bit, but a bullet to the head will still take me down, so we need to be smart.

Even as rage flows through me, I need to get to my girl.

Diesel puts on his bright purple fanny pack, complete with a sparkly unicorn on the front. I don’t question it, because we honestly don’t have time for his crazy. Garrett has a shotgun fastened to his chest and a fucking grenade launcher on his back—after all, he will be going in first. Kenzo is heavily armed too.

We’re going to be outnumbered, but where’s the fun if you’re not?

“Let’s go. We go in loud, don’t hold back, and remember what we are fighting for,” I snarl, as I snap the clip into place.

“Oooh, I know this one! For my little bird!” Diesel grins.

“Are you okay?” Garrett asks. “Not mentally, we all know that, but—”

“Oh, I stabbed myself with some adrenaline. Let’s go!” he cries.

Laughing, I slip from the car, and then we go silent. We move in formation towards the hotel. We have the advantage, we know the layout, and we know the passages and ways to get around quickly. They don’t.

Plus, we are fighting for our girl, nothing will stop us.

We run across the road, the night cloaking us, and I put my back to the wall next to the front door, the chain that once locked it lying forgotten on the pavement. Garrett puts his back to the other side, and I nod, counting down on my fingers. He palms the grenade launcher and, with a burst of movement, I rip open the door. He goes in, ducking and firing before pulling back out as explosions rock the building.

Shouts follow, and we all file in through the smoke, breaking apart to take each side of the large foyer. I duck behind a post, and Garrett does the same while Diesel flies over an old sofa as bullets fire at him. Kenzo slips behind the front desk. I peek around to see bodies on the floor, but from the stairs and up above, they’re firing what sounds like submachine guns, the bullets spraying everything as wood and sofa bits fly everywhere, the roar loud.

Then it goes silent, and we all move at the same time. Stooping down, I take aim, choosing the top floor since I’m the best shot. I trust my brothers to deal with the others. I drop two men before ducking back behind the pillar as they start firing again, their shouts echoing. Looking to Garrett, I nod. He palms the grenade launcher again, and I cover him, darting out and firing randomly as he lines up and shoots.

We both hide behind our cover as the explosions sound again, and then it’s silent. He slings the grenade launcher behind him and grabs the shotgun. I nod, and we break from our cover. There are only two guys left in here, and they are coming down to meet us. Diesel flies at one with a roar, slicing and ripping him to pieces. Kenzo takes the other, sliding over the desk and sneaking up behind him, shooting him in the head.

“We go down. Garrett, you take the back,” I instruct, as we head past the staircase to the stairs that lead to the basement. No doubt they are waiting, so I tear open the door and toss a smoke bomb down there, waiting until I hear the yells and coughs, then I sneak down. Kenzo’s hand clutches my shoulder, Diesel is behind him, and Garrett is taking up the rear, watching our backs.

Ducking at the bottom of the stairs, I peer around the corner to see three men, all coughing and whining, looking around wildly.

“Where are they?”

“Fucking find them!” they scream.

Steadying my breathing, I pick off all three before swinging my rifle behind my back and grabbing my pistol and knife. Kenzo taps me, and I nod, then he slips past me and into the space, his gun drawn as he leans down and checks them, ensuring they are dead. When he nods, we break into the room. There are two doors, both cupboards, and we investigate them. The only way out is farther down through a narrow corridor.

It could be a trap. It’s a risk we have to take.

“Diesel.” I nod, and he slips down the passageway. If it’s a trap, only one of us dies. It’s the rule.

He moves on silent feet, a machete in one hand and a pistol in the other. When he reaches the intersection, he presses to the wall before rolling around one corner and aiming at the other end. When nothing happens, he waves us on. We follow, and once we get to the junction, I frown. Which fucking way, Ryder, think.

We hear a yell to the left, a very familiar yell.

We all share a look before Garrett tries to break into a sprint, but I hold him back with one hand. “They could be using her as bait, fucking think.”

I move faster now, drawn by her. If they are hurting her, I will fucking kill them and rip them to pieces. The hallway goes on for a while, and there is no one here. It opens into a large room at the end with other doors leading off. I know because Kenzo and I used to play hide and seek down here while Dad was working.

“Okay, Kenzo and I have eyes up top. Garrett and Diesel, left and right.” I nod as Garrett moves to the other side of the hall and nods at me, ready to go in first.

Always ready to die for us…and now her.

Our protector, our enforcer.

But this time, I hesitate to give the order, hating the unknown of that room. We usually have a plan, this is fucked and rushed, but he grunts and nods at me again. “I got this,” he mutters, before breaking free without my orders and stepping into the room. Swearing, I follow after him, the others close behind.

Someone fires, and I duck behind a barrel, peering above it to see at least eight men waiting for us at the other end of the room. They hide behind an overturned table, beer and cards scattered across the floor. They heard us coming.

“Diesel,” I hiss. “Is it time to open the fucking fanny pack yet?”

He laughs. “Nope! This is easy, give me cover,” he whispers, before sneaking into the shadows of the room. To draw their eyes, we quickly fire, making sure they are concentrating on us and not the crazy bastard now climbing across the pipes in the ceiling like some kind of monkey.

I keep my eyes on him, switching between firing and watching him. He crouches when he’s near them, and then, without a word, he drops down behind the table right behind them. “Boo!” he screams, and I rise to my feet, firing as I walk, the others doing the same.

Diesel takes two down, but we hear him yell before he shouts louder. “You bastard!”

Oh shit.

We take the rest down, but when we round the table, he’s punching the shit out of a man. “Shoot me? Bitch, you motherfucking ass dick, bitch, I’ll eat your fucking heart—”

“D?” I call, and he glances up, blood dripping from his ear where the guy obviously got a shot off. “I think he’s dead,” I point out dryly.

He looks down at the man and, with a snort, drops the body before wiping his face on his arm, smearing blood across it. “Where were we?” he asks, as he picks up his machete and tosses it. “Ah, yes, rescuing my little bird.”