Unfinished Heroes: Sebring Part 67

"Knight has d.i.c.k to do with this," she retorted.

"That's not the Sebring I mean."

All over her body, her skin got tight.

"Nick's unhappy," Valenzuela said softly.

"I don't give a f.u.c.k about Nick," she shot back.

But it was a lie and they both knew it.

"That's your mistake," he whispered, standing. "Pretending that's true, that's been your mistake for years."

She felt her lip curl. "He'll be taken care of."

"Such bravado," Valenzuela muttered.

That was when every inch of her skin got cold.

"You've blown up all my labs, taken out or turned all our boys, Leary's running one of your f.u.c.king crews." Saliva filling her mouth, she swung an arm down to the body p.r.o.ne on the floor at her side, indicating a termination of her resources, the finality of which Valenzuela was sure not to have missed. "You don't eliminate something that's not a threat," she reminded him.

Valenzuela settled in like he was about to tell a tale and spoke again.

"You see, Georgia, I have a rather tenacious adversary. I'll need patience in dealing with them, and in the meantime, I need nothing further to take my attention. I also need not to damage relations with those who keep out of my way. I'm afraid, for you, it's important for me to keep the Sebring brothers happy."

"So you're telling me, Nick playing my sister...what? He's got some guilt and he wants me dead because p.i.s.sing you off got her dead? So to make him happy you're gonna take me out even though because of you I've got nothing?"

He shook his head. "Nick doesn't want you dead. He wants you neutralized."

So the invisible Nick Sebring was communicating his wishes.

f.u.c.king f.u.c.ker.

She should have taken care of him first. Unfortunately that had not been a viable option, considering at the time the House of Shade wasn't strong enough to withstand the onslaught from Knight Sebring and Marcus Sloan if she had.

Then he played her sister and when s.h.i.t got hot for him, he disappeared.

Months...nothing.

Now...

f.u.c.k.

She leaned back slightly and crossed her arms on her chest, drawling acidly, "Congratulations. Job done."

"It's me who wants you dead," Valenzuela stated.

Georgia Shade froze solid.

"You've cost me money. You've cost me time. You've cost me a.s.sets. All of that has value. I don't like losing things I value, Georgia," Valenzuela went on.

She stared at him, giving all she had to keeping her breathing even. She'd lost everything to this motherf.u.c.ker. She was G.o.dd.a.m.ned going to keep her dignity.

"But because he loves your sister, Sebring wants you neutralized, which means breathing," Valenzuela continued.

She let out a heavy breath, saying, "He didn't love my sister. He played my sister."

"He seems to be going far out of his way for a woman he's playing with."

"Then he's going in the wrong direction since, because of you, there's no sister to love."

Valenzuela's knowing smile sliced through her sternum all the way up her gullet.

A knowing smile.

What did he know?

He loves your sister.

Loves.

G.o.dd.a.m.ned loves.

In her current situation, the only thing that could keep her alive was the wishes of Marcus Sloan.

Or a Sebring.

No. Not the wishes of a Sebring.

The wishes of Olivia who would never want her dead.

f.u.c.k, Liv was alive.

This was Sebring.

She looked down at Gill and felt the dry sting her eyes.

It was all Sebring.

She looked back to Valenzuela to see his smile had died.

"Unfortunately," he kept going, "that doesn't work for me."

One of his men started moving toward her. She felt another approaching from behind.

She opened her mouth to shout.

She got not a sound out.

Fifteen minutes later, beaten b.l.o.o.d.y and bullet-ridden, Georgia Shade bled out five feet away from Gill Harkin's body.

She was found with the gun that murdered her man in her hand, powder residue on her fingers. His fingers were curled around the gun that had the clip that had been emptied into her body.

It looked like a lovers' spat gone terribly wrong in a ratty twenty-dollar-a-night motel in the middle of nowhere between two criminals desperate and on the run.

And the House of Shade was no more.

Eric Eric Turner prowled out of the motel room, phone to his ear.

He heard the connect and got the clipped greeting, "This number is only for emergencies. Please, f.u.c.k, do not tell me you're calling with the score of the G.o.dd.a.m.ned Broncos game like last time. I'm in Tennessee, not on the moon, and we got f.u.c.kin' DIRECTV with Sunday Ticket. I get the scores same as you do."

"I'm not callin' 'cause a' that. I'm callin', askin' you to please tell me that bloodbath is not you," he clipped back.

There was a beat of silence before Nick asked, "What bloodbath?"

Turner gave him short, curt details.

"f.u.c.k," Nick muttered.

Turner relaxed.

It wasn't Nick.

"Well, the good news is, Denver is gonna be a lot more quiet, Valenzuela won his war against the House of Shade. No more explosions. No more dead bodies," Eric noted.

"No more war," Nick concurred.

They were both silent.

Turner drew in breath.

"She's resting easy now, man," he said quietly.

For another beat, Nick didn't answer.

And the one word was weighty with meaning when he finally said it.

"Yeah."

Hettie was avenged. The bad guys got their due. Not how Turner would have played it, but that didn't mean it didn't happen all the same.

Moving them out of that heavy, he observed, "Now all we gotta do is sit and wait to see how Kane Allen and his Chaos crew deal with Valenzuela's s.h.i.t."

"That MC is solid, Turner, so I hope there are no more bodies. Least not ones from the wrong side," Nick replied.

"I hope that too. Though I'll have to get it through the grapevine." He glanced back at the open door to the motel room, now teeming with local cops and not-local Feds, feeling the twist of disgust pull at his mouth. "Done with this s.h.i.t."

Nick sounded stunned. "You retiring early?"

"Job offer. Better money. And what I'm gonna be doing, likely not gonna end up in some tatty motel miles from home starin' at a man with no face."

"Christ," Nick muttered.

"Not to mention, I got unfinished business I can't take care of inside. That snake's still in the garden, Nick, and I gotta get hold of the resources I need to deal with it. Those resources not bein' in the FBI. One of my team got dead because of that. Nearly two. She's avenged. But the job isn't done."

Even with Tucker and Sylvie Creed's best efforts, they still didn't know who'd turned on his team.

Eric Turner intended to find out.

"You need anything, you obviously got my number," Nick offered.

In the new world where he'd be dwelling, that would be a number Eric could use for a variety of reasons.

And he would.

"Headed to LA," Turner shared.

There was another beat of silence before he heard Nick Sebring bust a gut laughing.

That p.i.s.sed Eric off.

So he said not a word and hung up.

Half an hour later, free to do it now, Nick called him back from his old cell.

And the a.s.shole was still laughing.

Olivia Hands to the deck railing, I stared at the trees.

"That wasn't what I wanted to happen, Livvie," Nick whispered in my ear, his front to my back, his hands at the railing beside mine moving to cover them, instantly warming them against the cold.

"I know," I replied to the trees.

"Valenzuela dismantled her operations. She was expanding too fast. Getting c.o.c.ky. Making deals. She owed people money. She was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with Valenzuela every chance she could get. They were on the run. I communicated I wanted her shut down. Way the scene read, Harkin turned on her. Witnesses say-"

I shifted a hand and laced my fingers through his.

Nick quit talking.

"Valenzuela would have eventually made his moves. He was stronger. She had no chance." I was still talking to the trees.

"What I pulled expedited-"

I twisted my neck to look at him. He lifted his head and caught my eyes.