as he knew, they’d come to help protect a brother, which he understood. They weren’t there to hit his son or kill him. If he knew any differently, with a certainty, he would kill the bastards slowly. Instead, when Maestro pulled open the door, Steele stepped in and shot the Swords member three times, all kill shots.
Downstairs, another high-pitched scream told Steele that Savage had found another shooter and was taking care of him. The wail was cut off abruptly and then started again, a jagged piercing cry of agony.
“Distraction,” Maestro said into his radio as they crept down the hall and positioned themselves on either side of the bathroom door.
At once a barrage of bullets tore through the window of the bathroom. Maestro and Steele counted. Five seconds later, Maestro tore open the door and Steele stepped into the bathroom and shot the Swords member three times, just as he had the one in the sitting room.
Steele reloaded as he made his way down the staircase to the main floor. He knew Junk and Bridges were at the back of the house, pinned down by heavy fire coming from Torpedo Ink members outside. Savage was in the house, killing the others who had been with the two men, and making certain neither Junk nor Bridges moved from that spot. They were all waiting for Steele.
Steele walked right up to the door of the kitchen and peered in. Bridges faced outward toward the pool. Most of the glass had been shattered, or shot out, but one big slab hung like a death trap, waiting for an unwary visitor. It swung macabrely, as if it was a living thing. Bridges occasionally lifted his gaze to it. When he did, he shuffled back involuntarily and then looked back over his shoulder to see if his son had witnessed his display of nerves.
Junk faced the open kitchen door. The door hung on two of the three hinges and looked as if someone had repeatedly kicked it in a fit of rage. Junk was hunkered down behind a table, gun in his hand, trembling so bad the gun shook. The more the man Savage had taken screamed, the more Junk closed his eyes, wincing.
Steele stepped right into the room and calmly shot Junk in the shoulder and, as Bridges was turning, did the same to him. Junk dropped his gun. Bridges somehow held on to his weapon. Bullets hit all around the man from behind as Torpedo Ink opened fire.
Bridges cried out, a hoarse shout of protest, and lifted his arms to cover his face. He still maintained possession of his gun, but it was in his hand, almost forgotten. Steele smashed the barrel of his gun against Junk’s head as he swept past. Maestro picked up Junk’s gun. Steele kept moving straight to Bridges, disregarding the barrage of bullets.
“Cease fire, cease fire,” Maestro instructed.
Steele brutally kicked the gun out of Bridges’s hand. “You think you can hit my woman and get away with it, you piece of shit?”
He had marked every bruise on Breezy’s body and he proceeded to use his steel-toed boots and his enormous strength to map every bruise right back on Bridges’s body. He did it fast and hard, giving the big man little time to react. He was careful to make it as painful as possible without letting him off the hook by killing him too soon.
“You took my son, Bridges. That was really stupid. You knew I’d come after you. You had to know that. You just stay right there while I have a talk with junior. Your father is dead. Boone wasn’t all that good of a man, so I doubt many will mourn. Certainly not his family. You won’t have time.”
He caught Junk by his hair and yanked him to his knees. Junk screamed as the movement wrenched his shoulder. “I didn’t do anything to Breezy,” Junk denied. “I didn’t do anything.”
Steele stared down into his eyes. It was the monster staring at Junk, not Steele, and he was grateful for that monster. “No, you didn’t do a thing to Breezy, not to help her. You stood a few feet away while your father hit and kicked the shit out of her. You watched, didn’t you?”
Junk didn’t answer, and Steele drove the toe of his boot into Junk’s bloody shoulder. Junk went sailing sideways, screaming to rival whatever was going on in the other