I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 51

SODA:

I pulled up to Habana Club just as my clock turned to 11:58. This was cutting it too close, this was bad. The feeling in the pit of my stomach made me want to hurl out my car window, but I clamped my teeth together and ground my jaws. This was my fault, my mess, and I'd be damned if I let Keenon pay the price for it. Pay the price that was meant for me.

I reached under the seat of the passenger side and pulled out a pistol.

Battle Mode.

Time to be Bree Cryder.

As much as I hated what that alias was known for, what that alias had done, I needed her one last time.

I pulled another small hand gun from beneath the carpet in the back, then hooked a four inch knife into the inner lining of my maroon shirt, zipping my leather jacket over the weapon. One gun went into the back waist lining of my jeans while the other I just held firmly in my hand.

Deep breaths.

I closed my car door quietly and thanked my lucky stars I had opted for black converse as I stealthily made my way over to the alley where my 'client' was supposed to be. Poor man. He had no idea I wasn't a local drug dealer like I made him think. He had no idea he was about to die. Soda hated herself for what she was about to do to innocent people, but Bree reveled in the impending death like the sick bastard she was. My dark side.

Peaking around the side of the alley corner, my breath caught in my chest.

Damnit!

Keenon stood with his fists clenched in the shirt of my client, shaking the trembling man violently.

"Where is she?!" he yelled in his face. "Where's the fucking bastard?!"

My heart plummeted in sudden pain and confusion at hearing his words, but I supposed I deserved every bit of hate he had towards me. This was my fault.

Then I saw them.

Four men, all seated along the rooftops of the alley, rifles in hand, all in sniper positions, just waiting for both of their targets to show. But why four? There were only two of us, and I was under the impression they wanted me alive. So why so many?

Then it hit me.

This wasn't just an execution for two birds with one stone.

This is a fucking blood bath.

I looked around the parking lot and realized in seconds the things my screaming thoughts had kept me from observing earlier. I was losing my touch, damn.

Too many cars with black tinted windows were parked randomly around the club lot. It was too damn quiet. Movement flickered to my right and I subtly flicked my eyes in that direction, no doubt in my mind I was being watched by several pairs of eyes.

There.

I had to fight hard to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. That was Drake! Why the hell was Drake here?!

I took several steps away from the scene in the alley and clenched my fists, head throbbing from my strained efforts to make sense of all this. Then I realized there wasn't any time. I had to move now.

As if my trained criminal mind just suddenly came to life, things started forming in my head. Keenon's car was parked about ten feet away, still running, probably because he wanted a quick and clean get away. The move would have been smart, but right now, it was the dumbest thing he could have ever done and I was just so freaking grateful for his stupidity.