Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

20. Venom

Chapter 20

Venom

E verything in me screams to raise my guard, but as if Ronan can sense my weariness, he stops mid-way before the door opens and turns to me, gazing right into my eyes. “I got your back. I’ll protect you, trust me.”

There’s not enough time to respond with something witty, like ‘I can protect myself.’ before he takes off into the house. However, his comment did give me some ease.

“The back is locked and caged. There’s no escaping.” Wicked’s voice speaks through the earpiece.

“Catch up with Boone, and we’ll see each other soon,” Ronan orders, pressing his finger to his earbud. Loud footsteps echo from the side double doors. Voices come through.

“The outside cameras are down. I don’t know what it is, but we are checking now. Yes, we will keep you updated.”

Our eyes shoot to each other, and we silently hide behind the wall, which cuts off the front door and the foyer. I press against the wall, gun to my chest, and Ronan follows but pressing into me . I peered up to see him looking off into where the voices were coming from. Determination and focus in his gaze.

Doors bust open, slamming into a wall from the brutal force, and the stomps closer and closer with squeaks against the white marbled floor.

“They aren’t answering their fucking headsets!” one guy’s voice booms.

“Mike! Pat!”

I’m guessing the other one is speaking into the microphone, hoping to get an answer. From the sounds of the feet, it could be about?—

“There’s three men walking toward us,” Ronan says low and calm, like he’s ordering a meal.

He glances down with a deadpan expression. I nod and once the men approach the wall, and we go for it.

“Mike and Pat are gone,” Ronan speaks with poison to his tongue. The men’s eyes widen, grabbing at their guns—but we’re faster. We pull the triggers on our Rugger .22, knocking off two men.

“Oh, shit!” The other dodges the flying bullets. Scurrying off back toward the double doors, but Ronan is fast. He doesn’t even run; his legs are long, making his strides wide and swift. He takes aim with one hand, then shoots the man in his calf. He yelps, falling to the floor. His crimson leaking out and staining the marble like red juice on a crisp white dress.

“Fucking shit man.” The man growls, cupping his injured limb. His gun lay next to him, and Ronan steps closer to the man, lowering his weapon. I stroll up to him, hovering over the withering man—who’s sweating like a pig. His brown face has paled from the shock and his lips are drying from breathing too hard. “Don’t kill me, man,” he begs, inching closer to his weapon.

Ronan lets out a low irritated sigh. Then he steps over his body, kicking the man’s weapon to him. “I’ll give you a fair chance.”

My brows fly up, with my mouth parting in fascination. A fair shot. Loud running steps are rushing down the long hall. I’m sure they heard the man screaming.

The man stares at Ronan like he’s deranged. I’m sure his life is flashing before his eyes. But he takes the chance, swiping the gun and pointing it at Ronan. Before he can even put his finger on the trigger, a loud sound erupts and his head explodes, splattering all his useless brain, painting the floor officially red.

“Shit,” I say, whipping my head around to see Boone strolling towards us while lowering his shotgun. Wicked walks besides him. “So much for fair chance.”

“What the fuck was that!?” The voices come closer, and my heart picks up speed. Other muffled voices lapping over each other frantically, and I’m anticipating seeing a group of large men rolling down the steps.

“Guess he got his head job.” She snickers. “No pun intended.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling, ignoring the stupid pun because, clearly, it was intended. Boone doesn’t speak, but his death stare is more intense than before. Like he’s ready to blow that shotgun right through me.

I thought we were good. Maybe Wicked got into his head or something. I shake the thought because I shouldn’t—don’t care. The mission is my priority and all I care about.

I look away, pursing my lips and releasing a breath. I switch my gaze to Ronan, who’s looking at the top of the stairs.

“They’re getting closer. Let’s go.”

I nod and we head to the double doors. Making our way inside the room, not locking the door behind us. There’s no point.

“Are we ready?” Ronan speaks, his attention now on us.

Mal throws her AK-47 over her shoulder, placing her hand on her hip with an eerie smile. “I was born?—”

“Don’t,” I say blandly, fixing the strap on my thigh that holds my knife. I’m over her cliché catchphrases and weird puns. They’re far from unique.

Mal looks over at me with a scowl and rolls her eyes. She switches her head back to the door, her ponytail slapping her on the side of the face. If she didn’t have garbage for blood, she’ll probably be someone I could like. She almost reminds me of a mixture of Eve and Kyra. Absolutely gorgeous—and deadly insane.

Rambling sounds of loud footfalls echo around the outside of the door. We all at once point our guns at the door, holding our stance.

“Come out, whoever the fuck you are,” a loud voice booms out. “You have no clue who you’re fucking with, coming into my place.”

It must be the leader, the one that was a part of the kidnapping with Ronan and Carter. My heart picks up its pace again, my sweaty hands tightening the grip on my weapon as heat forms around my head. I’m not afraid; I can’t help the nerves that fold through me.

Scarlette’s voice whispers in my head. We have each other.

“Anita.”

My heart jumps at my name coming from a man with that accent. The situation is dire, but he’s calmer than I imagined. I lift my chin, flicking my eyes to him. Those once-honey eyes that are now blacker than the gun he’s holding are transfixed on me, as if he can feel the rocky nerves and heat steaming off me. He nods, giving me a look of surety; it’s so strong and telepathic, like he’s saying he has my back.

And that . That does something to my pounding heart that now beats normally. It lowers my nerves and sparks my fire, and I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or ashamed. I ignore the feeling for now; swallowing down my pride, I nod again, looking back at the door.

“Come out now or die where you hide.” The man roars once more.

Boone walks up carelessly to the door, as if we have all the time in the world. He fishes for the lightning smoke grenade and plucks it off his pants. Then he halts, glancing back at us with a straight face. “It’s time to play,” he says in a sultry Manchester accent. He tosses the lethal metal up and down like a baseball.

And that alone releases the bane in me, like the stick flicking on the matchbox. I crack a grin, hooding my eyes as we all step back.

“I’m so ready,” Mal says, cocking her weapon. We each grab the vision goggles from our gear and place it on, securing it.

Boone kneels on the opposite side of the door, then he cracks the door open quickly, throws the device out, and shuts it. He retreats still low to the floor.

I grin wider, speaking under my breath. “Three, two, one.”

BOOM!

The outside shrieks with growls and screams from grown ass men. “Oh shit!”

We rush to the door, swinging it open, and we shoot and kill anyone in our sight. I toss my knife directly into a man’s skull. He goes down instantly. The surrounding area is smoky, and because the bomb gives off a shuttering white flash, it immediately blinds their vision.

Men are leaning over holding their eyes shouting, some are on the ground crying out. Others are flailing through the air in hopes of ridding the fog. It won’t work unless you are wearing one of these handy things on my face.

I catch Ronan and Boone both side by side, hitting and killing the men with their guns instead of just shooting them. A figure tackles me to the ground. An oomph escapes my breath, but I instantly push my knee up, jamming it straight in his ass to lift him over me. He’s big as shit, but my quickness throws him off balance.

He topples above me, letting out a spur of curse words. Regaining my balance, I flip out my poisonous knife, spin around, and kneel, swiftly swiping it, and slicing his jugular. I stand up, repeating my movement, attacking another member trying to shoot me.

I peer around, spotting a large man with restored sight, now charging toward Ronan, but he is distracted by two other men—that he is violently beating. I quickly dissect the situation. Boone is busy slamming his gun into men’s faces, and Mal is shooting others.

My heart picks up pace. I’m sure he’ll see the man stalking up to him.

The man pulls out a large machete, and my eyes widen. Ronan is snuffing out the last weasel, but he still doesn’t notice.

Shit .

Only I’m supposed to be killing him, not this asshole. Before I know it, I’m sprinting to the other side of the room with my dagger.

I run up behind him fast enough as he’s lifting his machete; panic attacks my heart once the sharp knife swings down. He’s so distracted by his thirst for Ronan’s blood that he doesn’t hear me shout.

“No!”