Finding Ace (Book 3)

Chapter 22. What's Mine Is Mine

Ace

What's mine is mine, and when you hurt what is mine, I go insane. It didn't take me long to find the address for Arturo. I parked about a block away from the driveway. I made sure I had everything I needed.

I had five guns on me. One of the guns I had was an AR15. The others were handguns with silencers on them. There was a guard on duty. I had a 45 mm in one hand and an AR15 rifle in the other. The guard saw me, and his jaw dropped in horror.

The guard stood in a booth. To my surprise, he opened the gates and took off running.

Some guard he is — what a fucking coward. I tilted my head and watched as he dashed down the street. "Hmm," I hummed. I considered letting him live. "Nah." I pulled up the handgun and shot him in the back of the head.

The guy dropped in the middle of the street. A chuckle escaped me as I lit a cigarette. Even after losing my memory, fighting, throwing knives, and shooting still somehow came naturally to me.

I kept the cigarette between my lips. With my rifle in one hand and a handgun in the other, I walked up the driveway. When I reached the front door, I sat my rifle off to the side, and I knocked. I turned away from the door, and the butler opened it. The butler stepped out and stopped, confused when he didn't see anyone. He walked past me and stood in front of me. I stalked toward him.

Now I know the butler didn't do anything. He just picked the wrong dickhead to work for, and that is getting him killed. I grabbed the pocket knife out and flipped it open. I grabbed the back of his hair and slid the knife across his throat. I acted so fast that he didn't have a chance to react. The man gurgled and faceplanted onto the concrete steps. I wiped the blood off my knife, using my jeans.

This could be a suicide mission, but I didn't really care. Anger had won over self-preservation. I grabbed my AR15 and walked into the mansion. Memory or not, I wasn't entirely sure why anyone would have the audacity to go against me. I wasn't a cocky person, but I knew what I was capable of, and most other people knew it too. Even if I did die tonight, I knew I would take a lot of these fuckers with me. More importantly, nothing would stop me from getting to Kalia and Arturo.

The foyer was totally empty. I snuck through the door of the living room, and I almost walked back out. That is just. . . fucking gross! I tilted my head and grimaced.

A man sat on the couch, and he looked like he did too many drugs. His skin stretched tight over his bones, and his skin looked fragile. His cheeks were sunk in, and so were his eyes. I had seen corpses that looked healthier and livelier than he did. An ugly, heavyset woman with pimples all over her body straddled him.

She screamed, "Fuck me, daddy."

I pulled my gun up that had a silencer and shot him in the head. She let out a blood-curdling scream and turned to face me. I fired the gun and shot her in the head too.

"Yuck. Now I'm scarred for life," I muttered. I turned to the left and walked toward a hallway.

Just down the hall, a man walked out of a room. He looked up at me. His eyes widened, but he didn't have a chance to move. I pulled the trigger and shot him between the eyes. The man dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Put it down!" a voice came behind me. I spun around to face the man. I recognized him. He was on the boat earlier tonight. He cocked the gun, and I laughed. The guy stared at me in confusion.

"Man, I hope that Arturo taught you how to catch," I said and smirked.

He stared at me, dumbfounded. I whipped my knife at him. The blade pierced his throat, and he instantly dropped. That's one of my favorite knives. It had my name on it, so I pulled it from his throat.