Chapter 124: Fists And Plans

The arsenal room at ‘Spinning’ was a chaos of steel and sweat, Kane’s thugs circling Peter and Chris with weapons—baseball bats, brass knuckles, sledgehammers, metal rods. The air smelled of gun oil and stale beer, a flickering bulb casting jagged shadows.

“This ain’t good, Pete!” Chris grunted, fists raised.

“We’ve faced worse,” Peter said, voice steady. “Piece of cake.”

“Unite and conquer?” Chris asked, a spark in his eye.

“Unite and conquer,” Peter confirmed, grinning.

“Quit yappin’ and get ‘em!” Kane barked from his chair, Krig cackling beside him.

A thug with a sledgehammer charged Chris, swinging wild. Chris sidestepped, the hammer grazing his shoulder, and drove a kick into the man’s groin. The thug doubled over, and Chris wrenched the weapon free, cracking it across his face. The man crumpled. “One down!” Chris called, tossing the hammer aside.

The others rushed in, splitting the fight. Three targeted Peter, two went for Chris. Peter snatched a coil of rope from a crate, dodging an iron rod that whistled past his head. He looped the rope around the thug’s wrists, yanking hard to disarm him, then tied him fast and dropkicked him onto a table, wood splintering. “Stay down,” Peter muttered.

Chris weaved between his attackers, blind in one eye but quick as a blade. He launched a high kick, sending one thug sprawling, then grappled the second, slamming a knee into his gut. A punch to the jaw dropped the man, out cold. Chris panted, wiping blood from his lip.

Peter grabbed a baseball bat, facing his last two. He swung low, cracking their knees, then higher, snapping arms. They screamed, collapsing under a final blow to their skulls. The room fell silent, save for Peter and Chris’s heavy breaths.

They turned to Kane, fury in their eyes.

“Damn, that was somethin’,” Kane said, clapping slowly. “You pass.”

“Pass what?” Chris snapped, knuckles bruised.

“Jinx knows my gear’s for the best,” Kane said, leaning forward, his scarred face grim. “I don’t sell to weaklings. You two? You’re tough enough.”

“Now what?” Peter asked, dropping the bat.

“Krig, get the good stuff,” Kane ordered.

“Yis, brother,” Krig said, scurrying to a locked crate.

\---

Peter and Chris roared back to the warehouse, their car loaded with Kane’s arsenal—rifles, explosives, knives that gleamed with intent. The city’s neon blurred past, a radio faintly playing Sweet Child O’ Mine. Inside, Jinx lounged on a crate, sharpening a blade.

“Well, damn,” she said, smirking. “You survived Kane’s welcome. Bravo.”

“You knew he’d try to kill us,” Chris growled. “No heads-up?”

“If I warned you, you’d have chickened out,” Jinx teased. “Or gone in cocky. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun?” Chris shouted. “You think this is a game, you stupid—”

Jinx’s eyes flashed. She lunged, tackling him, her legs locking around his shoulders. She pinned his arms, drew her pistol, and pressed it to his temple. “Call me stupid again,” she hissed.

“Enough!” Peter barked, aiming his gun at her. “Get off him.”

“Not ‘til he apologizes,” Jinx said, twisting Chris’s arm.

“I’m not—” Chris started, gasping as she tightened her grip.

“You’re at my mercy, One-eye,” Jinx said, voice low. “Think you’re better ‘cause you’re a man? My whole life, men like you tried to chain me to a stove, scared I’m stronger, smarter. Say it.”

“Jinx, let him go,” Peter warned.

“Apologize,” she repeated.

“Fine,” Chris groaned, pain breaking him. “I’m sorry for calling you stupid. Won’t happen again.”

Jinx released him, offering a hand. He ignored it, standing alone. “You’re crazy,” Peter said, holstering his gun.

“Been called worse,” Jinx said, grinning.

“Enough games,” Peter said. “We’ve got weapons, gear, a plan. Can you two focus so we can save Sharon?”

Jinx nodded; Chris gave a curt tilt of his head. “Good,” Peter said. “Tomorrow, we get her out of the lion’s den.”

“I’ve got a way to clear the den,” Jinx said, eyes glinting. “A Trojan horse.”

“How?” Peter asked.

“We give Addicus what he wants—you,” Jinx said. “I call his man, say I captured you alive, demand he comes himself with extra cash. He’ll leave with his guards. While they’re gone, we sneak in, grab Sharon, and vanish before he knows he’s been played.”

Peter and Chris exchanged looks, impressed. “It’s smart,” Peter said. “But I want it tonight.”

“Tonight?” Chris balked. “We’re set for tomorrow. We need more prep—”

“We’ve got everything,” Peter cut in. “Guns, blueprints, your plan, Jinx. Sharon’s been in that hell too long. Tonight.”

Jinx shrugged. “Tonight, tomorrow—don’t care, long as I get to kill someone.”

Chris sighed. “Fine. Tonight.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, clapping his shoulder. “Jinx, call Will.”

“On it,” Jinx said, pulling a satellite phone from a box. She dialed, the line ringing.

“We need a far-off spot,” Chris said, rubbing his chin. “Buy us time.”

“They won’t make it back,” Peter said, voice cold.

“What?”

“Jinx tells them I’m there, gives a location,” Peter said. “But we don’t leave an empty building. We leave a bomb. Blow Addicus to hell.”

Jinx grinned as the line connected. “I like your style.”

“Target eliminated?” Will’s voice crackled.

“Better,” Jinx said. “I’ve got him alive. Tell your boss to come get him.”

The trap was set, but as Jinx hung up, a faint creak echoed from the warehouse’s shadows, like a footstep on loose boards.