Well, shit. He has a point. I live for reckless and unpredictable situations. That’s exactly where the adrenaline comes from and makes me feel alive, but now I have the boys giving me a whole new type of adrenaline rush. Maybe it’s time for me to be a little smarter about my little outings to the back alleyways behind clubs and seedy bars.
“So, what’s the plan? What do I need to do?”
Carver spins around to face me, his eyes boring into mine like a heavy weight. “All you need to do is stick to Grayson like fucking glue, you got it? If you can’t manage that, then tell me now, and you’ll stay in the fucking car.”
I clench my jaw, wanting nothing more than to fuck up his pretty little face, but I hold my tongue. It’ll have to wait until after. I have a feeling that I’m going to need my energy. “What’s the plan?” I repeat, my tone a little more forceful.
Carver sighs and looks back at me again. “Cruz is going to eliminate as many guards as possible and search out receipts or a ledger of his transactions. Hopefully that will help us find the girls he’s sold. You and Grayson are going in search of the chick Sam intended to replace you with. King has his own agenda,” he adds, making my gaze momentarily sweep across to King, but Carver’s next words steal my attention right back. “And me … I’m going after Sam.”
I shake my head. “No. Get fucked. I want Sam.”
“Tough shit. Stick to the plan.”
“But—
Cruz cuts me off. “No,” he says. “We’ve already been over every variation of the plan and this is what’s best. You need to do what Carver says.”
“I—”
“What do you think this girl is going to think if one of us comes at her, huh?” Cruz questions. “She’s probably already fucking terrified as it is, and we’re just going to make her think the worst. We need you to do this.”
I clench my jaw and finally nod, completely understanding. When I was in Sam’s cell and those two men came in, I thought I was done for. This girl is probably scared as shit and already would have gone through so much more. I don’t want her to have to suffer like I did. “Okay,” I murmur. “I’ll go with Grayson.”
“Good,” Carver grunts, pleased that I’m not putting up more of a fight despite how desperately I want to be the one to go after Sam. I want him to see my face and know that he lost. I want to be there the moment he realizes just how badly he fucked up by having his men sneak into my room and screw me over. “We meet back here at the end. Don’t fuck it up.”
I narrow my eyes on him, knowing that last comment was aimed solely at me. “If anyone was to fuck something up, it’d be you,” I point out, making a heavy scowl stretch across his face. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get this over and done with.”
“You need this,” Grayson says, leaning forward in the front passenger seat and pulling out a gun. He presses it right into my hands and my eyes bug out of my head before I shove it right back at him.
“Oh, hell no,” I say, a slight panic creeping into my tone as Grayson tries to hand it back. I shake my head violently. “No, I … I don’t know how. I’ve never even seen a real gun before. I can’t … I’ll hurt somebody.”
King reaches across and takes the gun out of Grayson’s hand before holding it up for me to see. “It’s easy,” he explains, taking my hands and curling them around the gun. “Hold it like this and keep your finger away from the trigger until you need to shoot. When you’re moving, keep it down. You’ll be right behind Grayson for most of this, and trust me when I tell you, a fucking accidental bullet to his back is going to piss the fucker off. Believe me, he has the scar to prove it.”
I nod, taking in every word with wide eyes as I feel the guys watching me intently. “What else?”
“There’s not much else to it. It’s already loaded, and Grayson has backup magazines if you run out of bullets. If you can, hold out on shooting, the longer it takes for them to realize what the fuck is going on, the better. Remember, see an enemy, raise the gun, aim, finger on trigger, squeeze. Simple.”
“Simple,” I repeat.
Grayson grunts. “Just don’t fucking miss. These assholes will have guns of their own, and if you miss, I can guarantee a bullet will be coming straight back at you.”
“I … I think I’ll be more comfortable with a knife.”