Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

2. Ronan

Chapter 2

Ronan

Arm, mouth, tongue?…?fuck it all the limbs

I t’s moments like this that spark a jolt in my stomach, the anticipation rising higher, clenching the muscles tighter. It fuels the adrenaline pulsing through my body to keep going. My one goal, my only motive, is to rescue the person from the tragedy that results from the hands of sick fuckers that have nothing to do.

Dark surrounds me and I adjust the vision goggles, as I peer around the area that seems abandoned, detecting anything that moves. I won’t fire off without knowing for sure it’s not the hostage.

I don’t glance over my shoulder to see if Mal and Boone are a few feet behind me because I know they are. I can’t hear them, but they are there, lurking and ready to evade. Extensive training is an advantage—it allows us to sneak up on the prey without a peep being heard.

I raise my gun, cocking it. I flatten my hand on the steel door, opening it slowly with one push to avoid the screeching sounds from the overbuilt rust forming on the hinges. The unpleasant stench of stale dust and rotting wood stings under my nose as I amble my way through the door. I extend my hand back looking forward, and when the door weight lifts from mine, I continue.

“God, it fucking stinks in here,” Mal utters through the earpiece.

I shrug, focusing my attention. “You’ve smelled worse,” I mumble.

The building is nearly a century old; the walls are crusted and gray with caked up dirt and grime between the concrete. It’s a wide space, and up ahead is a narrow staircase that leads to the target.

I twist my head slightly over my shoulder, gesturing to the stairs. Then, I place my fingers to my lips with a ‘shhh’ motion. One thing I don’t want is anyone detecting us before we find them. It’ll only end worse for them.

With one foot over the other, I stroll up the L steps, crouching down with my gun leveled with my shoulder. I take my time staying under the radar since steps are thin plaited wood that shifts each step you take. Including scraps of debris and chipped pebbles residing across the stairs. They’ll think it’s probably a mouse if one is kicked, but I won’t take the chance.

As I go around the steps to the gap before getting to the next level, my body tenses as I spot a green shoe. I shut the night goggles off to inspect it closer. Dirt and dried blood is smeared on the shoe—I am guessing they dragged her up here. I bite down on my jaw, my grip on the gun constricting in my hand. Goddammit, the part that makes me sick to my bones. I let out a short, shaky breath to control the rage clawing at my chest.

They’ll die a painful death.

Voices chatter above, guns clicking and the pleading from the victim ringing in my ears loud. And it makes me want to bolt up these steps and get to her sooner. But I have to play it smart and safe.

“Please,” a frantic cry pleads out. “Just let me go, I don’t have anything.”

“Yeah, but your parents do. Your whole damn family does. So shut the fuck up before I blow your head into space,” the person spits out before hearing a loud slap echoing through the shallow walls along with another cry from the blow.

My neck stiffens as my movement picks up an urgent pace. Mal and Boone meet my marks by keeping up. Depending on the takers, most of the victims make it out unharmed, but some like this group are brutal. They abuse, assault, and even kill the victims. Similar to my situation.

I purse my lips, rounding the corner, the rocks and dirt scraping under my boots. The voices grow closer and clearer, my heart pounding louder and louder. I glance at Boone, gesturing my head up to the next L shape steps. It seems they are up there, from the way the dull light cascades toward the top of the entrance. I take a step and another creak.

Fuck

It’s easy to stay quiet, but sometimes man-made creations and Mother Nature can be so fucking against you.

“Something there. Go check it out. And shoot anything moving,” one targets says.

Oh, they wish they could.

The person doesn’t question it and heads toward the entrance, where the steps descend. The sound of his gun cocking kicks my heart into a race. I slip the gun into my holster, then slowly slide the knife up and out.

Mal and Boone disappear back around the lower level. I know they aren’t too far. I can sense them lurking along with me. And if anything goes to shit, I have at least ten men outside ready and armed to dissect the mission. He slowly creaks to the steps, mumbling something under his breath. I shut my eyes, counting the beats of my heart, the rushing waves of my ears connecting with my blood, every drip and breath. I tip my body into recline. The skit of his boot veers around the corner where the dark shadows meet the steps. Once he moves past the dark spot, my hand wraps around his mouth, bringing the knife to his throat then slitting it. His body squirms in my stiff hold and crimson spills on my knife, filling my hand with liquid.

His muffled screams are not loud enough. Not beneath the gurgling from his own blood. His frame is large, so it takes a little more in me to hold him up. Then he limps in my body. Lifeless.

Boone comes from around the dark corner, grabbing him from me and dragging him away.

“Why hasn’t he come back yet? Elliot!” Their weapons begin clicking. The girl screams along with the chair, knocking onto the floor and scraping for our attention. We’re coming. Don’t you worry.

“Help! Help me,” her scream pours out and my throat tightens.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up!” I know this time, instead of a slap, he punched her by the loud thud.

“Two on your left and three on your right. And one directly by the hostage,” Chris calls out into my ear. He’s my guy with the other team that scopes the outside. Using ray vision to get a visual of the suspects in the buildings.

Gazing over at Mal and Boone, her lips snarled up and Boone stoic as usual; I nodded my head, confirming they heard the directions.

Then we storm the scene, aiming my gun at the two men to the left, shooting them directly in the head. The girl screams and watches two bodies next to her collapse before they can put their fingers on the triggers. Mal shoots the man on the right, along with Boone gunning down the other two beside him. Leaving the one and only man left.

Too goddamn easy.

“Oh, shit!” The man left standing grabs the girl roughly, swinging her to his body. She cries and continues screaming, blood leaking from her swollen lip. Her clothes are dirty and torn, with a large laceration slit on her shin. And there it goes, the one shoe on her foot. My eye twitches as my blood ignites at the sight. Now I have to chop off his foot just for that.

“Come one more step, and I’ll shoot her right in her pretty little face.”

My shoulders slack; a headache at the root reels in to make its way over. I sigh, placing my gun back in my holster, with Mal and Boone still pointing at him. We don’t shoot, especially if the target is in the asshole hands.

“I’ll kill her right here.” His hand shakes as his eyes dart around to his men who sprawled out on the floor.

I shake my head, letting out an exasperated breath. There’s that headache. I rub my temple in agony. “Why do they always make it so hard?” I ask rhetorically.

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re trying to hold off their death for a little while longer.” Mal lets out a chilling chuckle.

I nod, slowly advancing on him, even though he walks backward with the death grip on her neck.

Okay, his arm goes next.

“I’ll kill her,” another scream, spitting all in her face in the midst of it.

Mouth is after.

“Let me go and the bitch lives. I swear I’ll kill her.”

Tongue .

“Oh, I have no doubt you won’t.” I walk over the dead body. “But you’ve made one mistake.”

He trembles with sweat streaking down his cheeks, his arm loosening on the girl then shifting his body. I notice the movement that happens every two seconds from his nerves, and that’s when it’s time.

“You thinking there’s a way out of here without your brain attached to that floor?”

Boone shoots, hitting him in the kneecap. The shot catches him off guard, and he drops, shooting the bullet in the air. Mal runs over to the girl, grabbing her and moving her away from the scene.

I stand in front of him as he lays in the fetal position, holding his knee whilst reaching for his gun that fell along with him.

“Please man, I have a family,” he pleads, and it irks me even more.

I chuckle, truly chuckle because it’s so amusing, like watching a comedian on stage. “That’s terrible. Your family has someone like you in their lives.” My foot presses into his wound, a thick red liquid pouring out like hot lava. He hollers out, attempting to move my boot. He should’ve thought about that when he was planning a kidnapping to get money from someone else. There’s a consequence to everything. Some consider them to go to jail. Go before a judge, sentence them. My justice is?…

Well, we can see what that is.

Black fire erupts in my vision, and then my bullet pierces his skull.

So Idiotic.

Minutes later, Mal and Boone leave the scene and make sure the girl is safe and sound. I stay behind to have some fun and go forward with the promise to myself and to her. Afterward I’m walking outside, the cool tempered air swiping against my cheek as I wipe his dirty blood onto his filthy shirt before tossing it off to the gravel.

I look at the young girl in the ambulance, an EMT working on the gash riding up her leg. Her body shriveled and meek, fear combing every part of her tired body. I swear if I could, I would kill every last person who hurts young kids like this. She’ll need some therapy, but at least she’s not in their hands anymore. I stroll over to her, a blanket thrown around her shoulders, sitting on the backside of the ambulance. Her eyes widen with her body shaking; I lift my hands carefully in my steps for reassurance.

“You’re alright.” I step forward slowly at a no-harm pace.

She tucks the blanket between her arms, shifting. She’s probably no older than sixteen, much younger than I was, and that makes this shit so much worse.

“What’s your name?”

Rubbing her shoulder over the blanket she averts her watery eyes back to me. “Isabella.”

“Isabella, I’m here to help get you back to your parents. They are worried about you.” And they are. They’re the ones that gave me a call to search for her daughter, the video cameras around their house showed all the evidence that we needed to find the fuckers and extract her. They were brave enough to go to her home. Stupid enough to think they wouldn’t get caught.

Tears well up in her eyes, her irises pooled and poignant, yearning for the comfort that I genuinely cannot give to her.

“Are they coming to get me?” She sniffs tears streaming down her dirty face. The EMT finishes and walks off.

I nod, standing a little closer to her. “Yes, but first these guys are going to get you to a hospital.”

“No, they can’t! What if they come and get me again.” She burst out in tears again.

My shoulders are stiff. The part I love but hate the most. Once being a normal kid with nothing to worry about but friends and school only for their innocence to be taken and ripped from them. Only because their parents are rich or of high status. It’s not their fault their parents became who they are, and now they have to suffer the consequences. The kidnapping has increased, as if the fish are becoming less with no way to feed the sharks. It’s never ending, but I’ll keep at it until I’m dirt in the ground, surfing to dark eternity.

“No one is coming for you. ” My brows raise, but my hand stays in my pocket. I don’t want to make her even more uncomfortable with just a shoulder tap.

Her chest heaves up and down, darting her eyes to the building and back at me.

“I promise no one will ever hurt you again.” At least not in that way. Just the common heart break, maybe. I can’t stop an asshole boy from being a jerk, but I can keep you safe from the predatory fuckers that hold no bounds. “You’ll have round-the-clock security at the hospital until your parents arrive.” I accommodate my security team because who can really depend on the security at the hospital? Most hospital security personnel are worn, old, tired or out of shape, and that doesn’t give me the confidence that something else won’t happen whilst in their care. I point over to Boone and Mal and her eyes follow.

“With people that look like them.” I quirk a brow in hope she’ll feel safer. Though, truthfully, she’ll never restore that part of her. The innocence that gave her the naivety that helped her stay a child, to feel like a teenager. To know there is nothing to worry about besides annoying friends, their drama, and unnecessary homework. She’ll always remember this day, and it’ll haunt her forever.

Her head bobs and shoulders sink. “Thank you so much.” Her voice is shaky, her lip quivers, and her eyes low, but bright. I nod, pursing my lips before stepping back and walking off toward my truck. Footsteps descend from behind me, and I know exactly who it is.

“The boys and I are going out for a drink. You coming?”

I remove my gun from my holster. “No.”

Mal lets out a sigh. “Another rain check?”

“Something like that.”

“This was a good save today. We should celebrate.”

“Then you all should go do that. You’ve earned it.” I look at her while unstrapping my holster around me.

“Can you come just this once?” She does a pout face, which is horrible because it looks more like an evil witch than what the expression is intended to be. I look at her through hooded eyes, tossing my holster in the truck.

“You all deserve the win. Enjoy.” I say it because I mean it. They have earned it. Ever since getting my team together, we have stopped countless hostage situations and deaths, but it doesn’t disclose the fact that there is still much of it happening. I won’t waste my time cheering shot glasses of watered-down liquor only to realize and be reminded after the effects wear off with a splitting headache, of the horror happening. It’s why I don’t have fun . I don’t celebrate. There’s nothing to cheer for when the next person is getting snatched off the streets.

“Well, you know where to find us.” She pats me on my arm, giving me a light smile, then turns away to catch up with the others.

The minute I hop in my car, my phone rings, the name pops up on my Bluetooth screen. I shake my head with a smirk, ready to hear his bullshit.

I clicked the answer button. “Detective Gear. To what do I owe this nighttime pleasure?”

A grumble of annoyance vibrates from the other end. “Why do my men tell me the leftovers are shit to meat, like blocks of bricks?”

My brows scrunch. “Well, I wouldn’t word it that way.” I smirk, a vision of my arm swinging up and slamming down to chop off his leg. I shift into reverse.

“That’s exactly how they described it, and I can only imagine the gruesome mess that was left over.” He grunts in irritation, and that only tickles me like a feather.

“I got the job done. What more do you want? If you didn’t want me involved, then you wouldn’t have given my contact to the Sanchez’s.” Which I will get on his ass about later. I work underground, in the shadows; I don’t willingly give my number like we’re at a fucking bar.

“What I wanted was to bring the men into custody and have it done the right way. Not eventually sent over, cut into bits and pieces like beef cubes.” More of the shuffling with crunches of papers rustles in the background.

I put the car into drive and tear out of the abandoned lot. The red and yellow flashes from the ambulance disappear in the distance out of my rearview.

Cops and their fucking dignity . Normally, I would have my guys cleaning up the mess. Storing away the scraps into non-existence. “I did your job for you. I got the kid, and she’s safe.”

He lets out a frustrated growl, more papers scattering and into the phone. I grin, looking out onto the road. “I do my job well. I don’t need you for that.”

“That’s what you think,” I say out loud.

“And you’re lucky you’re the best and the law shits bricks when they hear of you, but I’m not. I’ll beat your ass, Alvarez. Then throw you in jail and swallow the damn keys.”

“Is that any way to threaten a friend, a partner?” I feed into his irritation; it’s hilarious that he thinks he can do it. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“Partners don’t go against direct orders. You continue to abandon the principle of their law, which makes it very difficult to decide which side you are on.”

“I’m on my own side. You know this. I don’t answer to you or your people in too blue tight suits that sit behind the desk with coffee and donuts,” I say, typing into the GPS the location.

“That’s a standard cliché,” he murmurs while I’m talking.

“I,” I stretch my neck, straining my jaw from the redundant words, “do what the fuck I want. And the only reason you know me is because of our history. If not for that, I wouldn’t do the due diligence and speak to you, nor entertain your threats. Do you think your Janet would be alive if not for me? Also, don’t forget who’s the one that put the word out for you, Detective . So, I suggest you settle your steam and talk to me correctly.” I despise bringing up shit I’ve done out of the goodness of my heart. Well, not the good, it was for my own ill intention. I laugh out loud as I think about it. But it worked out well for us all.

“Screw you, I would’ve made detective with or without your help,” he spits out.

“Again, that’s what you think,” I scoff. “Don’t pretend you don’t miss this lifestyle.” I vividly remember his first slaughter. Just one. But that’s enough to judge a man.

“Fuck you for bringing that up,” he scolds. “Listen, Alvarez. Do you know the lengths I have to go to clean up that mess? All the blood and bodies.”

“That’s for me to not know and for you to figure out.”

He releases an exasperated sigh; the sound of his lungs restricting stabs an irritant to poke at my ears. I’m ready to end this conversation. His threats are like ice under the sun. Sturdy at first, but once in contact with a burn that’ll scorch your fucking world—he melts. Talk shit on the phone, but if he sees me in person again, he’ll choke and die right there.

I scroll on my phone to click into a surveillance video as he continues to huff and puff from his lack of self awareness and shit for nothing ego.

Up pops the screen and I smirk. “And detective, you may want to keep me in your good graces. You never know what can be in that coffee of yours.” I glower, my smirk stretching as he puts the white foam cup to his mouth over a mess of papers stretching over his desk.

Soon as I say it, he chokes on the coffee, spitting it up over his papers, while looking at it in disgust.

Then he wipes his mouth, slamming his hand on the desk. The sound screeches through the speakers. “ALVAREZ!”

I click the end call, continuously shaking my head before spinning off into the night where other things await me.