One Last Bullet: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 3) (21 page)

32.

19:13

I’m leaning against the wall just outside Trent’s box, listening at the door as Josh plays his part beautifully. He’s simply to wind Trent up enough for him to get distracted, so I can make my entrance and put the next phase of my plan into action. And from how it sounds in there, I figure the room’s just about ready for me…

I draw both my guns, checking the magazines are full and the safety switches are off. I stand in front of the door and take a deep breath. Everything we’ve done over the last few days… everything I’ve done in the past eight years… it’s all served as a prelude to this moment. I’m about to come face to face with Wilson Trent.

I can feel my Inner Satan snarling and spitting, pulling on its restraints and begging for freedom, so it could unleash its fury on the world.

Not quite yet…

I kick the door open so hard it almost flies off its hinges. I stand in the doorway and quickly survey the room. There are five bodyguards, each with their hands tucked inside their suit jackets—presumably reaching for their guns. Behind them, Josh is standing just behind Wilson Trent, close to his side and holding a knife to him.

“Yeah, we haven’t met, so let me introduce myself…” says Josh. “My name’s Josh. I believe you know my friend?”

My gaze settles on Trent, and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment. How easy it would be to put a bullet in his head right now… But that’s not the plan. Besides, it could easily go through the glass and out into the surrounding crowd, and I’m keen to avoid any unwanted casualties... or attention.

“Not interrupting, am I?” I ask with a wicked smile.

“You…!” seethes Trent through gritted teeth.

“Me…”

One of the bodyguards twitches, their gun hand moving a millimeter inside their jacket. I have both guns on Trent, but I move the one in my right hand and aim it at them.

“Don’t be doing anything silly now, boys,” I say. “Your lives depend on it.”

I look over at Josh and nod imperceptibly. He moves away from Trent and stands in-between the bodyguards and me.

“Alright ladies, hands where I can see ‘em,” he says. It takes a moment, but they comply, much to Trent’s dismay, though he remains silent.

Josh moves to each one individually, lightly frisking them and taking their guns. The first one he takes, he slides into his waistband at the back. The other four, he throws across the box into the corner.

“All clear, Boss,” he announces after a few moments.

I haven’t looked away from Trent since I entered the room. My entire body is tense and on edge. It’s not that I’m not relaxed under the circumstances; it’s that I have to physically restrain myself from rushing over and blowing Trent’s head off. That’s not the plan. The plan is to break him. Make him suffer. And suffer, he shall.

“Good man,” I reply. “Now, Trent… where should we start?”

His unwavering gaze does its best to bore a hole of hatred right through me, but I see in his eyes that he knows he can’t intimidate me, even if he doesn’t fully understand why.

“How about I kill you with my bare hands, you arrogant prick?” he snarls.

I smile. “Don’t confuse arrogance with simple knowledge. I’m confident purely because I know things about this situation that you don’t. The fact I’m better than you in every single way is beside the point.”

It’s Trent’s turn to smile. I know what’s coming. He’s going to antagonize me, try to force me to make a mistake. I’m not going to like it, but I’ve prepared for it beforehand—as has Josh.

“I did it, y’know?” he says. “Pulled the trigger, I mean… I put a bullet into your wife’s face and made your daughter watch. Then I made her beg before all my men emptied their clips into her. I tell you, she bounced around that kitchen floor like a ragdoll after every shot…”

My jaw muscles ache as I clench and tighten them. He’s standing in front of me, grinning with fond recollection at how he murdered my family. I can feel my blood boiling underneath my skin, succumbing to an anger and rage I’ve never even dreamed of being capable of. My face must be telling quite a story, as the five bodyguards, and even Josh, all take a step back, giving Trent and me some room. They all exchange worried glances with each other, and then look at Josh, who simply shrugs. He has a vague idea what’s going to happen next, and he knows to stay out of the way.

With both my Berettas aimed squarely at Trent, I can feel myself starting to shake as I struggle to hold back the demon within. I take some long, deep breaths, trying to settle the kick of adrenaline that’s surging through me.

“And to think,” Trent continues. “That all happened… because of
you
!” He points his finger at me, jabbing the air as he explains. “
You
got your family killed because you took my son away from me!”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” I reply, breaking my silence with a calmness that even surprises me. “You didn’t even
know
your son. He hated you and wanted nothing to do with you. He didn’t even have your name. I did my research—you hadn’t seen him since he was three. You banged some random whore one night and got her pregnant, then walked away from her and Darnell Harper when she demanded you help raise him. Let me guess, you killed her and left the boy in foster care? A victim of this country’s broken system. No wonder he grew up to become such a worthless little bastard. I did the world a favor blowing his goddamn head off. And yet you use him as justification for killing my wife and daughter, who I loved with every ounce of my being. You want the truth? Yeah, you broke me. You took my soul and killed Adrian Hughes in the process. After a couple of years of searching, Adrian Hell found me and turned me into the monster I am today. I can end you with a click of my fingers, you fat piece of shit.”

Trent looks both angry and, for what I imagine is the first time in his life, a little afraid. But he holds his ground and my gaze, and speaks without skipping a beat.

“You don’t intimidate me, Adrian. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve seen it all. I don’t even think you’re that good a hitman. That bitch I hired to take you out came damn close more than once. If you were as good as you think you are, she’d never have gotten near you.” He chuckles to himself, gaining confidence with each word he utters. “And you’re gonna what? Click your fingers and finish me? Surrounded by sixty-five thousand witnesses? Go right ahead, you fuck!”

I smile. Then I slowly holster one Beretta, followed by the other. I put my left hand in my pocket and lean left against the doorframe. I casually look over at Josh, who’s doing his best to hide his excitement over what’s coming.

“You got anything you want to say to any of your boys here?” I ask, gesturing with a nod to the five men in the room.

“Ha! Why? You intend taking them all out with your bare hands?” he replies.

I look over at the five bodyguards, who are shifting nervously on the spot. I look each one of them in the eye with an apologetic expression. Josh takes a small step away from them, leaning against the far wall of the box. I look back at Trent. He frowns at me in disgust, not buying into the little show I’m putting on for him at all, which makes this whole thing even sweeter…

I wink at him and click my fingers on my right hand. His five bodyguards instantly drop dead on the floor.

Trent’s jaw hits the floor a moment after the bodies do. I stand up straight and draw one of my Berettas again, taking aim at him. Josh steps over the pile of corpses and stands by my side.

“Wha… how… what the fuck just happened?” asks Trent, completely dumbfounded.

“Simple—I just killed five of your men by clicking my fingers,” I reply.

“Oh, oh, can I have a go?” asks Josh excitedly, before making a point of moving his hand around like a magician and then clicking his fingers. Trent frowns with more confusion.

“And what the fuck are you supposed to have just done?” he asks, regaining some of his composure.

“Me? I just robbed you of two hundred and fifty million dollars,” replies Josh with a smile.

Trent’s eyes go wide. I think under normal circumstances, if someone had said that he’d have laughed them out of the building, but given what he’s just seen me do, he’s probably more inclined to believe him.

“You’ve
robbed
me?” he asks him.

“Of every last penny, you sanctimonious nutsack!”

“You see, Trent,” I say. “This is what happens when you make an enemy out of me. I don’t just get my revenge—and Lord knows I’ve been dreaming of doing
that
for the last ten years of my life… but I also beat you. I outplay you every step of the way and take everything you’ve ever had in this world away from you. Your power, your money, your bodyguards… everything. I’ve systematically picked you apart, and now you’re standing in front of me, an absolute nobody with nothing to live for.”

That
is a no holds barred lesson in antagonizing someone, and he just got schooled.

He lets out a cry of unbridled fury, like a warrior on the battlefield standing over a fallen adversary. Given his height and weight, I’ll admit his rage is an impressive sight. I can see out of the box and, in the general crowd, a section has stopped and turned to look, to see what the noise is.

I expected some kind of retaliation from him, obviously. But I honestly never thought he’d react like I would… He charges me, ducking down to his left, and dropping his right shoulder as he does. Despite his size, he’s fast, and he’s on top of me before I realize he’s moved. He slams into my gut and sends us both flying backward out of the box and into the corridor. He’s knocked the wind out of me, and I’m lying flat on my back coughing; my gun’s flown out of my hand and is out of reach.

Trent leaps to his feet and runs back into the box, tackling Josh as well. I sit up, regaining my composure as I look on. Despite the few blocks he’s managed to get in the way, Trent has overpowered Josh, slamming his large fists into his head and body before grabbing him by the throat and hurling him almost single-handedly through the glass and out of the box, into the crowd below. That’s a good ten foot drop! I can hear screams from the crowd outside, which grow louder and louder like a wave.

“Josh!” I yell, scrambling to my feet and running at Trent, who turns around just in time to catch the right elbow I’m throwing at full speed. It connects with his jaw and sends him crashing to the ground.

I can’t afford to give him a moment’s reprieve… I’m sure Josh can handle himself for the time being.

I pounce on Trent, straddling his barrel-like chest in a full mount position, and proceeding to hammer down blow after blow on his face and chest.

“Fuck you, Trent!” I scream. “This is for my family, do you understand me?”

I emphasize every other word, timing them with my punches for added effect. I unload punch after punch until my knuckles bleed. His face is starting to swell underneath his eyes. His nose is broken and a couple of his teeth have gone flying out of his mouth, but I’m still bombarding him with my assault. I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain in my hands, determined to pummel his head into a bloody pulp.

My arms are tiring, and I’m out of breath, so I pause for a moment, letting out a similar, guttural war cry to what Trent had done moments before. I sit up straight and look up, resting back on my haunches. I close my eyes as I try to catch my breath.

I fly forward, feeling a pain in my back. Trent must’ve brought his knee up and slammed it into the base of my spine. It takes me by surprise, as I didn’t expect him to have any more fight left. I hit the wall beneath the window with a grunt.

“Shit…” I murmur.

I drag myself to my feet and turn just as Trent charges me once more. I have no idea how he’s even still standing, let alone fighting back. He tackles me again, and we both topple over the edge and fall out of the box, down into the crowd.

We land among a large group of people, which cushions our fall somewhat. But this causes a domino effect and innocent football fans are flying in every direction, falling down the steep steps that lead to the different levels of the stand. It’s a total frenzy around me, and it takes a moment to fight my way through the masses of people just to get to my feet.

As I stand, Trent does the same. Shards of glass are sticking in my back and legs from the fall, but I quickly pull them out, ignoring any pain. I’ve got more important things to deal with.

Our eyes meet across the crowd, and we charge for each other once more, as best we can in the chaos. Over Trent’s shoulder, on one of the other stands, I catch a glimpse of security guards running toward us, and a quick glance across the field at the large TV screen shows our fight is being broadcast to the entire stadium. Over the screams of people nearby, I can faintly hear the cheers and jeers of people urging us to keep fighting.

It’s always confused me how people can have such a blind fascination with violence, seemingly to the point where they’d happily endanger themselves purely to get a glimpse of it.

We thunder toward each other and meet in the middle on one of the staircases that separates the rows of seats, about halfway up. I think he’ll lead with a desperate straight right punch, so I immediately duck down. A right hand flies over my head, and as his momentum carries him past me, I stand and step to the left, throwing a left hook into his ribs, just under his armpit. The impact knocks him off-balance and he falls, prompting more screams from the crowd as they watch his body tumble and bounce down the concrete steps, coming to a sickening halt as he hits the wall at the bottom rolling down the steps. People are simultaneously trying to get out of my way as I walk slowly down the steps after him, at the same time as trying to stay close enough to me to see what’s going to happen next.