Branded Page 15

  “All right, all right,” she mutters as I drag her through the door.

  I wish there was a better way out, but there are no windows on any other side of the room, so we’ll just have to face them head on.

  I go out ahead of her, shielding her with my body from the men in front of me. I know they’d shoot to kill on sight, but I won’t let them.

  “See? All you had to do was bring her out,” Matteo calls out from behind his vehicle. With his gun pointed at us, he leans over the hood. “Hand her over and no one will get hurt.”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?” I joke even though this whole situation is anything but funny.

  “You’re one of us, Brandon. We won’t hurt you,” he adds.

  “Of course, you won’t.” I reload my gun. They won’t shoot as long as she still has a chance of escaping and as long as my uncle doesn’t give the go for them to shoot me too. Until then, I’m safe. Whatever that means.

  But fuck safety if it involves giving my uncle what he wants.

  He pulled out of a deal involving the Burrells, stealing from them in the process, and he thinks they’ll let him off the hook? Fuck no, I could’ve told him that myself. And why was he even doing business with them in the first place, knowing what they did?

  He deserves for his hotel to crumble in ruins. I hope it teaches him a lesson.

  “I hope y’all called an ambulance ahead of time,” I say, pulling back the slide on my gun. “Because none of you will be able to walk when I’m done.”

  One of them hiding behind a tree laughs loudly. “It’s Seven against one, kid. You’re not gonna make it.”

  Seven. Glad I know how many there are now.

  I smirk. “Thanks for telling me.”

  One of the others gives the one who told me a death glare. “Thanks, dude. Just fucking shoot him and get it over with.”

  “No. Not until Josiah gives the okay. Until then, stay put,” Matteo says, stopping them from making a grave mistake. They should be happy he did, or they’d be dead by now. I don’t play around. If you come after me, I will make you pay with blood. Simple.

  Matteo knows. Out of all the men working for my uncle, he’s been beside me the longest. We were practically training buddies, and he knows what I’m capable of. Top of the class. Excelling at every part of the course. The shooting range was my playground.

  And from the concerned look on his face, I can tell … he knows not to mess with me. Even now. When I make up my mind about something, it’s virtually impossible to change that, no matter who the fuck you are. And that includes my fucking uncle and his men.

  “Brandon, please. Can’t we talk this shit over?” Matteo says, trying to appeal to my good side.

  But there’s one thing he doesn’t know about me … I don’t have one.

  My heart and soul have long been blackened by the suffering I went through at the Burrells’ hands, and now my uncle wants to take away my last chance at revenge.

  I won’t let it happen. She’s mine.

  “Leave, Matteo.” I point my gun straight at them. “I won’t say it again.”

  Even from a distance, I can see him hesitate. He swallows. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Then you’ll have to live with this.”

  Before he can respond, I’ve already moved sideways and shot one of them who was hiding behind a bush. He drops dead onto the cold pavement.

  One of them shoots and misses. I gun him down next.

  “STOP!” Matteo yells.

  He can’t control them. He never could. He wasn’t the ringleader, the boss.

  I was.

  The burden is too heavy for him to carry. He should quit while he’s still capable of walking.

  “Get out before I ruin your last chance at a job, Matteo,” I warn him.

  I don’t wanna do this. I really don’t. But if he gives me no choice, then I must.

  My only chance at seeking the truth is right behind me, huddling at my back. That woman, despite our hatred, is my only shot at true freedom, as strange as that sounds. Us meeting again at my uncle’s hotel was no accident. It has to be fate.

  “Brandon. Talk to your uncle. Just give it a chance,” Matteo yells, holding out a phone.

  “No,” I respond.

  I already know what he’ll say. That I’m a failure. That I’m going against everything our people stand for. Family. Values. Honor. It’s all lost on me … if I can’t have the revenge I need.

  There’s no use talking to a man who won’t change his mind, and neither of us will.

  So there’s only one option left.

  I turn my head slightly, still keeping my eyes and gun on the men in front of me while simultaneously drawing Dixie’s attention. I ask her one simple question. “Do you want to live?”

  “Would anyone ever really say no?” she says.

  “Answer the question,” I hiss.

  “Yes. I wanna live.”

  “Then you’ll listen to every single one of my commands, yes?”

  “Um … okay.” She swallows. “If you promise you won’t turn your back on me and kill me all the same.”

  I take a deep breath. I can’t promise her that. I still hate her with every fiber of my being, but I can’t let any of these fucks kill her either. She’s not theirs to kill. She’s mine and mine alone.

  “I’m the only one who can get us out of here alive,” I say. “Do you trust me?”

  “How can I trust you?” she replies. “After everything you did?”

  “You can’t, but you’re gonna have to right now,” I whisper back, still pointing my gun at Matteo.

  I expect him to do something foolish any moment now. A grandstanding on a parking lot in the middle of the night is bound to be noticed by the common folk, and then the cops will get involved, which I’m sure they wanna avoid at all cost.

  “Fine,” she says with a sigh. She and I both know she has no choice in the matter. It’s either do what I say or die.

  “Follow and stay behind me,” I whisper. “On my mark … GO!”

  I reach for a metal bin standing next to the door and take off the lid. As we walk sideways across the parking lot, I use the lid as a shield to stop the bombardment of gunshots.

  “Stop, stop!” Matteo yells, but none of the men listen. They’re shooting on sight, completely uncontrolled. They want us dead when Matteo wants to bring us in alive. Guess the conflict of interest is the only advantage I have right now.

  During the short pause while some of them are reloading, I aim and shoot. One is hit in the foot, and I shoot again to incapacitate his arm so he’s not a threat anymore. Another one has already reloaded, but I shoot him in the shoulder before he can act.

  “Reload!” I yell at Dixie while I keep up the lid, which is our only defense.

  Dixie immediately hands me the magazine she brought from the motel room and exchanges them quickly. I knew she’d be fast, considering our encounter at my uncle’s hotel.

  After one more shot right through the head of a guy standing in front of one of the escape cars, we have our opening. We rush toward that car while Matteo starts shooting. The metal lid is almost perforated, so I gotta act quick. When he stops for a second, I shoot him in the thigh.

  His yowl makes me clench my teeth. I considered him a friend, and I didn’t wanna hurt him, but he gave me no choice. Saving me and Dixie is more important right now.

  So we run to the escape car, jumping over the bloodied bodies as if they mean nothing. I throw open the door and use that as a shield while two more men start shooting at us.

  “Get in!” I yell at Dixie, who jumps into the driver’s seat. “Scoot over.”

  “What?” she says.

  “I’m driving,” I bark.

  “Why?”

  “No questions, just do it!” I command.

  With furrowed brows, she slides across to the passenger’s seat so I can sit down. I slam the door shut behind me and start the engine. We’re lucky these idiots didn�
��t take the keys out.

  They immediately start firing at the car, though.

  I stomp my foot onto the gas pedal and make an instant U-turn. The wheels of the car squeal as bullets rain down on the bumper and windshield. Even though the windshield is bulletproof, the glass chips away fast.

  Matteo rounds up his men, yelling at them as he jumps back into his car too. I barely manage to escape one of the shooters as I drive off the parking lot, racing as fast as I can. In the rearview mirror, I watch them come after us at full speed.

  I drive through the upcoming traffic, ignoring the lights while Dixie holds on tight. A few cars have to swerve out of the way so we don’t crash into them, and most of them are blaring their horns. I don’t give a crap as long as they get out of the way.

  A narrow street separated by a few bushes allows me to switch lanes.

  “Watch out!” Dixie suddenly yells.

  I jerk the wheel just in time to avoid a woman with a stroller crossing the street.

  We swerve through the streets, going faster and faster, trying to speed away from the men chasing us. If I know Matteo well, he won’t give up without a fight, which is why I have to go through this alley to cut them off.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Dixie screams, closing her eyes as the sides screech against the walls. The car scooped up a bunch of clothes from someone’s clothesline as we exit the alley, and I slide them off with the wipers. A white shirt is still stuck to the lights, though. Perfect.

  Because I’m still driving in my fucking birthday suit with only a towel covering my fragile parts. I should be happy they didn’t manage to shoot that off.

  “What the fuck was that, Brandon?!” Dixie yells as we swerve into the correct lane.

  “The only way to escape them, that’s what,” I reply, shifting gears to full power. “Now hold on.”

  I slam the gas so hard she’s pushed back into her seat. I have to drive through several red lights and slip through a gap between two trucks crossing each other. Then I take another turn and drive off.

  Matteo’s car and the others seem to have disappeared.

  Phew.

  Guess my driving skills were too dangerous for the likes of them. But I already knew it was the only way to shake them off.

  When I turn my head to look at Dixie, I burst into laughter.

  Her hair is one jumbled mess, and she’s shaking like a leaf.

  “What … the fuck?” she mutters, staring ahead as if she’s lost her marbles.

  “That’s how you fucking drive,” I say, a smug grin spreading on my lips.

  She glances at herself in the rearview mirror and rakes her fingers through her hair. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “Don’t thank him. He’s not the reason you’re still alive.”

  She makes a face. “Thanks,” she says with such a sarcastic undertone that it almost hurts. Almost. But not quite.

  I continue driving and don’t stop, not even once we’re out of the city and in the desert. It’s not safe for us in Las Vegas. I have to find a hideout first and then wait it out as I think about what I’m gonna do with this fucking girl sitting next to me. The one girl who ruined my life somehow managed to burst her way back in with explosive power. And boy, does it fucking burn. Just like having her eyes on me at all times. I’m starting to wonder if something is on my face.

  “What?” I snap.

  She points at my junk.

  When I glance down, I finally realize I’m still only wearing a towel.

  Well, fuck.

  During the chase, I had so much adrenaline I completely forgot about that. And clothes, for that matter. How the fuck am I going to get them now without people calling the cops on me?

  “Here,” she says, and she pulls a pair of pants from underneath her shirt. “Figured you might need these.”

  I frown. “What do you want me to do with this?”

  She lifts her brow at me. “How about put them on?”

  “While I’m behind the wheel?” I reply. “Great idea.”

  “No, when we get to wherever the fuck you’re taking us, of course. Geez,” she yells, sighing.

  Well, fuck me. After all this time, we still clash like teenagers.

  Still, I’m surprised she thought of bringing something.

  “You’re welcome,” she says. “I don’t normally scoop up clothes from a random bathroom floor, you know.”

  I snort at her. “Thanks.”

  Sometimes, I really wish I wasn’t cooped up in this small car with a girl like her.

  Then again, I guess it’s just what I needed to make my life seem like less of a blur.

  Now all I need to do is figure out where to go.

  Naked.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dixie

  We’ve been driving for hours now, and I have no clue where he’s taking me. Every time I open my mouth to ask him, he gives me this death stare, and I immediately close my jaw.

  Fuck me, I don’t remember Brandon Locklear being this intimidating.

  Has my memory failed me? Or am I turning into a pussy? Considering how I cowered behind him when his uncle’s men started shooting at us, it’s probably the latter. Shit, I still get goose bumps on my arms when I think about it.

  I never expected them to open fire like that. It’s as if they didn’t give a shit whether he survived. Not that I care or anything, but … they’re his uncle’s men. His fucking uncle. And none of them seemed to give a rat’s ass whether he died.

  Is that how you deal with family? Not in my book it isn’t.

  Then again, the Locklears are anything but normal.

  Suddenly, my stomach roars out loud. From the corner of my eyes, I can clearly see him glare. Then he chuckles, shaking his head. I’m mortified.

  “What?” I snap, my cheeks glowing.

  “Nothing,” he says.

  “Fucking hope so,” I say.

  “You always this hostile?” he asks.

  “To the man who killed my fucking brothers?” I retort. “Oh yeah, definitely.”

  With a glazy stare he says, “Oh yeah, definitely … I forgot.”

  My eyes twitch, and my nostrils flare. Jesus help me not to set this man on fire right now.

  “You forgot you killed my brothers?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “I forgot hating is your hobby,” he says with an added fake smile.

  “Only when it involves a specific type of asshole brand,” I say. “Or, in other words, anyone whose name ends in Locklear.”

  “Anyone? No wonder … that explains a lot,” he says, rubbing his chin.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He shrugs.

  I make a face. “You can’t just throw shit out there and not expect me to want to know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “You can’t expect me to believe you don’t know shit either,” he retorts.

  “I don’t,” I say, crossing my arms.

  I don’t know what he’s talking about or why he’s always the one acting all upset. It’s as if he thinks I did something to him when he’s the fucking murderer. I didn’t do anything to him except break up with him. That’s nothing compared to what he did.

  “Fine,” he says, looking away.

  “Fine,” I reply even louder, looking away too.

  The tension is so sharp right now it feels like a hot iron poking in my back, but I try to ignore it as best as I can. I’m so pissed off right now, and I don’t even know why I care to begin with. He ruined my life, so I shouldn’t give a damn what he thinks or how he feels.

  Yet the more he snarls at me, the angrier I get, and the more I wanna yell at him.

  “You know, you could at least show a little bit more gratitude,” he says.

  “WHAT?” I lean out of my seat just to look him in the eyes. “You did not just say that.”

  He turns his head toward me, and with the most serious face in the world, he says, “I saved your ass back there.”
>
  “So?” I frown.

  “I could’ve just left you there in that motel room. My uncle would know just what to do with you,” he says, smirking like an idiot.

  Damn, I really wanna bash his face into the windshield right now, but that would probably be my end too, and I don’t intend on dying yet. Not when I’ve just escaped death. But boy, does he love rubbing it in.

  “Like you haven’t already made me pay for saving me,” I spit. “What else do you want me to do?”

  “Be a little less bitchy maybe?” he says, cocking his head.

  I narrow my eyes and pause for a second, trying not to explode. “Sorry, not possible.”

  I’m honestly trying not to sound sarcastic as fuck, but I can’t help myself. Brandon Locklear brings out the worst in me.

  “Figured,” he says.

  My nails are digging into my skin right now. “You just want me to hate you, don’t you?”

  “Why do you ask?” He raises his brow at me in such an infuriating way. With that chiseled chin and neatly trimmed stubble on that goddamn face, he is so fucking distracting I can’t even think straight.

  “Well … because. You’re constantly trying to get under my skin,” I reply, shaking it off.

  “Your skin or your clothes? Big difference. And I already partially got there,” he says, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips while he’s looking straight at me. “And I’m only interested in the latter … to make you pay, of course. Since you decided to ruin my life as well.”

  I swallow and reach for the button that turns on the air conditioning. It’s so fucking hot in here all of a sudden.

  But the moment I touch the button, so does he. Our fingers collide, and we both jerk back instantly. His eyes widen, and then he turns his head away from me, so I do the same to him.

  Jesus, I can’t stand to look at those dark chocolatey eyes that demand attention wherever they set their gaze on.

  After briefly closing my eyes, I suck in a breath and tell myself not to let him distract me again. Talking with the devil will do me no good. I gotta focus on getting away. That’s it. He’s nothing to me. Brandon has no place in my memories nor in my present or future plans. I have to eradicate him from my mind, my life … and from this planet.