Page 140 of At Her Pleasure
“Your next shipment will have double the discount you requested, Ms. Greenwood,” Rodriguez said. “As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement we outlined. Hector will coordinate it with Mick. You have seen our merchandise, so I trust you and I will not need direct involvement next time. My presence was likely noted.”
“So you fucked up, and I’m paying the price.” Kat raised a brow. “I’ll wire you the money, including enough to pay for that tractor trailer over there.” She dipped her head toward the container truck. “We’ll drive them out and take our chances.”
“I’m not allowing another cartel to take what belongs to us. This is how we teach them not to interrupt a business transaction.”
Rodriguez gestured brusquely at Hector. “Make sure they get safely off the property, which means immediately. I will depart for my plane. You know how to handle things.”
He moved toward a white Escalade, already populated with a driver and men to provide him firepower. One of them held the door for him, then jumped into the back seat.
Hector jerked his chin at the Mercedes. “Get out of here, Mickey. See you down the line.” The wry tone said he didn’t envy Mick, having to deal with “Ms. Greenwood’s” temper on the drive.
He strode toward the waiting men, barking orders in Spanish. Three disappeared into one of the smaller buildings, reappearing with spray cans of accelerant and bales of newspaper. Whether the invader was law enforcement or a double-crossing competitor, they were prepped for the evacuation plan. The others were checking their weapons.
“What are they doing?” Cyn said. She’d been following Mick’s lead, moving toward the car, but her steps slowed as she put together what he already knew.
He gripped her arm and pulled her into motion. “Keep walking.”
They reached the Mercedes, but there she dug in her heels, horror gripping her features. “No, Mick,” she said low, urgent. “We can’t let them do this. They can be bought off, right? He’s gone.”
“Hector can’t. He’ll shoot us if we interfere.”
Mick reached under the steering wheel and popped the trunk. When he straightened, Cyn pulled him around to face her. It was a good thing they’d anticipated her temper, because her body language reflected it. Even through the sunglasses, her eyes were warrior fierce.
“I know you’ve had to watch terrible things, over and over,” she hissed. “Stand by and let them happen. But not this. If you do, you will have no soul left. None. Neither of us will. We might as well burn with them.”
The Escalade was bumping down the road, a mile off now. Twilight was making it harder to distinguish the car from the dust obscuring it, but it was clearly making speed.
“I need you to move so I can get to the trunk,” Mick told her.
He didn’t wait for her reaction, bodily moving her out of his way. She might have resisted, but even in crisis, his Mistress paid attention, keeping her brain working.
His was working, too. Everything…all of it was in his head. So many images, so many variables. What standing by and doing nothing would mean. What not standing by and doing nothing would mean.
He’d learned to focus on the end goal, which always had to be worth it, no matter what damage it did to his gut, which had been so chewed to hell he was surprised he had one left. But like the two dead girls, a lot of casualty events happened outside his reach, or before his reaction was called into play. Even things like Hector shooting the man in front of him. No choices there, nothing that would help.
That was a far cry from bolting while sixty people were burned alive in one go, while he had time to react.
While he had time to do something about it.
Cyn had followed him to the trunk. “Throw a fit,” he told her. “Make a scene. Give me some cover.”
Her gaze flickered, her only acknowledgement before he snapped, “Fuck you, Kat. It’s business. You’ll make one less pile of money this month. Big fucking deal.”
“You son of a bitch. You told me this crew was reputable. I should have known better than to get in bed with Mexicans. The Chinese gangs can at least keep their inner office bullshit contained.”
As she spat at him, he pulled away the floor of the trunk and lifted out an AK and a second 15-capacity mag Glock.
Though he already carried a weapon, he put the strap of the AK around himself, tucked the additional handgun into the back of his belt, and closed the trunk. “Pull your weapon and follow my lead. Look like you want to join in the fun.”
He headed toward the warehouse. “Hector,” he called out, holding the AK by the trigger guard, the butt tucked under his biceps as the muzzle pointed toward the sky. “Hold up.”
The handful of men with Hector paused at their boss’s quiet word. Four were missing, having taken the accelerant and newspaper inside. When Hector gave the AK a curious look, Mick responded with an eye roll Cyn couldn’t see, because she was following a couple steps behind him. “She wants to put a bullet in a few. She likes first shooter games. You mind?”
He kept moving forward, fifteen feet, ten feet…
“Too late, man, they’re already back there, spraying the gas. No sparks. Maybe—”
Mick dropped the muzzle of the readied weapon and opened fire.