39-Donovan/Javier

It started to rain twenty minutes after driving into the city, and a shot of thunder crackles in the air as I turn right onto Shorty's street. I drive past an unmarked vehicle parked a few houses down on the opposite side of her house.

I turn off the ignition and climb out of my car. The biting rain is relentless as it pours down on me like bullets. As I walk past the car, I glance over my shoulder and notice the driver is slouched over the steering wheel.

What the…

Maybe he's sleeping? And if he is, I'm going to kick his ass for not doing his fucking job of keeping Shorty and her family safe. Ignoring Javi's instructions never to approach the vehicle, I knock on the window three times.

"Wake up," I call out, but he doesn't move or respond. I try it a second time, but still no movement.

Something's not right.

I glance around for anything suspicious, but it's hard to tell with the heavy rain soaking me to the bones. Another roar of thunder cracks overhead, sounding like a gunshot.

I test the door handle before pulling it open. When I lean into the car, my breath catches at the sight before me.

"Holy shit!" I jerk back, hitting my head.

The agent in the passenger seat has his head up against the window with his eyes open and blood seeping out of his slit throat. I run my hands through my wet hair and glance at Shorty's house.

My lungs burn as anxiety grips me with a vise-like intensity, threatening to suffocate me. The warning signs are flashing before me like neon lights: Shorty is in danger.

I pull my phone out and call Javi.

It rings twice before he picks it up.

"Not now, Donovan. I have to—"

"Both agents are fucking dead!" I whisper-yell, pacing as I run my hands harshly through my hair.

"What do you mean dead?""Is there another word for it? I mean dead, like slit throat dead. Do you need me to say it in Spanish?" I slam the door shut, not wanting to stare at the dead guy any longer.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Shorty's. Oh, fuck. I need to get to her." My feet are moving before Javi can say anything else.

"Stop, damnit! Just stop!" he yells, but I keep moving toward her house.

"No! I'm not fucking leaving her alone anymore. I'm going after her." I run until I'm one house away.

"If you barge into her home, they will kill her."

My feet stop moving.

"I need you to get back into your car and wait for me. I have several agents en route, and I'm about five minutes out. Stay. Put," he warns, enunciating the last two words.

"I-I can't," I croak as the image of Shorty lying on the kitchen floor, stabbed nearly to death, takes over my thoughts. Lifeless. Blood seeping out of every wound.

A powerful splintering noise almost brings me to my knees.

"Shorty," I breathe and run toward the house.

"Donovan! Stop!" Javi calls, but I shut him out.

JAVIER

"Goddamnit!" I throw my phone on the dashboard as I turn the corner to Sadie's street.

"What the hell is going on?" Derik, my partner, asks from his spot in the passenger seat.

"My sister's boyfriend is a fucking idiot. He's—"

The sound of metal being crushed in a scrap metal machine forces my head to jerk and slam against the side of the window. Airbags go off, and glass shatters, flying from all directions.

"Fuck," I groan as my head feels like splitting in two. Blood trickles down the side of my face where I hit the window.

"Derik, talk to me, man."

"Motherfucker," he hisses in pain mixed with anger. "Yeah, I'm all right, bro."

I hear footsteps from behind us, walking toward our direction.

"Can you reach your gun?" I ask Derik.

"Yeah." He grunts.

To our advantage, the car didn't overturn. I remove my gun from my holster without sudden moves and click the safety off. The side mirror is cracked, so I can't see how many people there are, but by the sound of footsteps stepping over broken glass, I'd guess there are two, maybe three.

"The boss said to leave no witnesses," one of the men says as the voice sounds closer.

Over the years, I trained my mind to focus on my auditory skills while wearing a blindfold. The more I familiarized myself with my surroundings, I was able to distinguish the difference between male and female footsteps, distinctive smells, and sounds.

The other guy laughs and says, "Too bad he won't be around to watch us tear his wife apart."

My blood turns cold.

Derik's body tenses beside me.

Anger twists hot in my gut, like a blazing inferno that wants to burn from the inside out.

The rain pelts the ground.

Lighting splinters the sky.

Feet slosh in the puddles.

I close my eyes and sense how close the man is when his steps falter, and a strong smell of cologne and weed fills my nose. I hear a gun being cocked, and a shadow passes by.

Without hesitation, I raise my silencer and pull the trigger. The bullet hits the fucker between the eyes, and his body tumbles to the ground with a splash. Derik's gunshot follows, and another body tumbles to the ground.

Derik and I climb out of the car when our backup arrives.

One of the agents rushes out of his car and runs toward us with his gun in the air.

"Are you all right?" he asks after checking the pulse of the dead man at my feet.

"I need you to have agents pick up my wife at work. Call me as soon as she's in their custody," I bark.

He looks between Derik and me with confusion.

"Do it!" I yell as pain spears my head.

"Yes, sir," he complies and scrambles away.

I turn to the other agents, who are awaiting my instructions, when a gunshot pierces the air.