My fists tightened. I turned on him, locked onto his cold eyes, and growled, 'We don't need to kill them. They've got nothing to do with our mission.'
He bared his neat white teeth in a lazy smile. 'What's wrong? You can't bring yourself to shoot them?'
I let out a hard little laugh. The driver's crying went up a notch; I glanced at him—his trousers were wet, his whole body trembling.
I faced Ashur again and said through my teeth, 'My mission was breaking you out. I'm done with the Organisation. I'm not killing people for nothing—at least not when they can't cause us any trouble.'
Still aiming at the pair, he dipped his head closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
You always get hurt by the one you thought c… couldn't hurt you.' He tilted his head a fraction and gave a mild smile. 'Never f… forget that.'
I rubbed the back of my neck, cut a glance at the two men, then growled at Ashur, sharp and steady, 'Either way, we don't have to kill them. They're not a threat to us.'
He smirked and flicked a look at my set expression. 'I'll do whatever best protects the mission.'
He glanced at the pair. 'For now, I won't kill them—because the hassle of their bodies would be b… bigger than the hassle of leaving them alive.'
I nodded and let out a breath. The last thing I wanted was another corpse.
Ashur strode to the driver. The poor sod nearly had a heart attack with Death's shadow falling over him. Ashur caught him by the collar and hauled him up, then nodded at the wet stain on his trousers. 'Should've sold nappies instead of dolls… m… more your line of work.'
The man just bobbed his head, face crumpled with fear.
Ashur turned to me. 'We're up front. Keep this one here—tie his hands with something.'
I nodded. He dragged the weeping driver away. The man's feet scraped the floor, and Ashur hauled him by the arm like a sack of potatoes. A moment later, the metal doors clanged and locked from outside.
I tore my gaze from the doors and fixed on the big, bearded bloke bleeding from his scalp. 'Over there. Now.'
My tone was flat, commanding.
He shuffled to the corner of the bay. I scanned around—nothing to bind him with. The van jolted; a car door thumped shut—Ashur had got in.
I stooped, snatched the man's phone, switched on the torch, and threw the light across his face. Staring into those bright, glassy eyes, brows knotted, I warned, 'You move, I'll put a bullet in you.'
Curled up with his knees to his chest, he whispered, 'But you're not like him.'
I gave a thin smile and, still propping my aching back against the cold metal, said, 'No one's like him. Doesn't mean I'm any less ruthless.'
The engine rumbled to life, the ribbed floor buzzing under our feet, and a few seconds later we were rolling. I slid down the wall and sat. 'Now shut it—I'm trying to rest.'
Keeping the gun in one hand, I flicked his phone to flight mode.
His eyes dropped to my leg. 'You've been shot? That could get infected.'
I smirked and studied him properly—early thirties, maybe; tattoos up his forearms, long hair fallen loose around a wide face. 'You're worried about the person who kidnapped you?'
He shrugged, let out a short laugh, stretched one leg, and hunched his shoulders. 'You stopped them killing us.'
I looked down at my loosening dressing. The wound had opened a touch, but not badly. 'You should rewrap it. Blood loss will weaken you,' he said.
My brows shot up. Sympathy—for your kidnapper?
'What is this—trying to be a good man at the last minute so you make it into heaven?'
He actually smiled. 'No. I've never been a good man. I only just got out of prison and started this job. I just don't think you're as scary as you pretend.'
I cocked an eyebrow, let out a tired laugh, and stared at the teddy bear by my boot. Am I softer than I look? Maybe not until recently. Two things had dragged me off course: a mission in Russia… and the moment Steven died in front of me. By my hand. Since that day, I hadn't wanted to kill—unless I had to. Unless they deserved it.