As he ground his knee into my back, keeping me pinned, the van suddenly began to slow.
Startled, I lifted my head halfway and stared at the metal doors in the dark.
We rolled to a stop… and my breath snagged.
Ashur took his knee off my spine, reached to the small of his back, and drew his gun.
I pushed up, pain biting, and shot him a hard look.
I was shaking with rage, but this wasn't the moment to fight.
His eyes flashed in the gloom. He raised the pistol and dragged a stack of boxes in front of us so we could hide behind them.
The driver's and passenger doors opened and slammed; heavy footsteps came our way, and a man's voice said, 'You heard that too? Might be an animal?'
Heart banging against my ribs, I shot Ashur a furious glance, snatched my pistol from the floor where it had fallen, and ducked behind the crates, breathing hard.
The rear doors screeched open, metal rasping on metal.
I peered through the gaps.
A tall, thickset man climbed into the bay, swept the place with his gaze, and rumbled to his mate, 'State of this.'
Suspicion drew his brows tight as he started towards us.
I held my breath and braced.
He took another step and thumbed on the torch on his phone. 'Robert…'
My shaky gaze slid to a shorter bloke standing outside by the open doors, a cigarette between his fingers.
He narrowed his eyes. 'Well? We going or what?'
The man in the black fur coat, hair tied back, was staring at a spot on the floor. He crouched. I forced my eyes down to see what he'd seen.
I could hear Ashur's steady breathing right by my ear.
I knew he was a viper, coiled to strike.
The man ran a finger along the floor; when he lifted it, I stared at the smear of red on his fingertip.
My eyes flew to my soaked bandage.
I dragged in a breath, frayed to the edge. Bloody hell—why did nothing in this cursed op ever go right?
He shot to his feet, shocked. 'We need to call P…—' he began, turning towards the bloke outside—
Ashur broke cover that instant, gun levelled, those terrifying eyes locked on the man. In the flattest, most implacable tone he said, 'Let's not waste the police's time.'
He kicked the crate aside and, before the man could speak, lunged and smashed a fist into his face.
The man hit the deck on his back; the bay shuddered with the impact.
Ashur dropped out of the van straight away—after the other one, so he couldn't bolt.
I scrambled up; pain flared as I booted the boxes aside and went for the fallen man.
He was sprawled on the ribbed metal, fumbling for his phone to ring the police. Blood slicked his temple; he looked dazed.
I kicked the mobile away, raised my pistol, and aimed. 'Don't move.'
He turned towards me, eyes wild, breath ragged, colour drained. 'I won't tell the police anything! Take whatever you want—take the van—just please…'
I flicked a glance outside; Ashur was hauling a skinny bloke—probably the driver—back towards the doors.
I looked down at the man again. In the dark, he held my stare, waiting, terrified.
I drew a deep breath and murmured, 'You just had to check, didn't you.'
The thought burned: this was on me. If I hadn't lost it with Ashur—if I'd kept control—maybe these two would've carried on with their night and never crossed our path.
I clenched my teeth till my jaw ached.
Or maybe it was on Ashur—like always—his bloody selfishness winding me up to breaking point.
Ashur shoved the driver into the bay and, scanning the street, he said, 'We're out of London, but we can't stay in here for long. We're still on the road.'
I climbed in after him. He levelled his gun at the driver, who'd dropped to his knees beside the other man.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. I wanted to smash my head against something.
Damn the Rose Organisation. Damn me. Damn Ashur. Damn everyone.
The driver burst into loud sobs; his whole body shook and one lens of his glasses was crazed into a spiderweb of cracks. The bigger bloke sat there panting, eyes glued to Ashur, panic written all over him.
Ashur's voice brushed my ear. 'There's a lake near here. We can d… dump their bodies… pack them in these toy boxes and chuck them in the water…'
I snapped my head towards him. Keeping my eyes on the two men, he said, cold as ice, 'Those boxes are too small for the big one. We'll have to see if there's a s… saw or a knife in their van.'
I blinked, stunned. A cool draught curled through the bay; maybe that was the only reason I hadn't burst into flames. I clawed at my hair again and shifted, pain flaring.
I looked back at them; both looked ready to drop dead from fear. The skinny one with the glasses held his hands up, pleading, voice shaking as he cried to Ashur, 'Please… I—I've got kids!'
Ashur cut me a sidelong look, then fixed on the man again. He leaned to my ear and, soft as wind over wire, murmured, 'Look closely… this is on you.'