Page 34 of Steel Vengeance

He didn’t want to do this in front of the kids.

Omari’s wife came out next, chatting with another woman. Sloane hadn’t mentioned there’d be another family with them. Great. That meant there’d be another man to deal with too.

He waited, but no men appeared.

Where the hell were they?

Finally, the kids piled into the car, and the wife said her goodbyes, getting into the front seat next to the driver. No room for Omari.

The SUV drove off, and Stitch let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The woman stayed behind on the sidewalk, waiting for her husband. A few more security guards stepped out, and then finally, Omari and another man appeared.

“Get out of the way,” Stitch grumbled, as the woman and her husband stood in his line of sight. With the wife and kids gone, this was his chance. He pulled his Glock out of his pocket and took aim, arm stretched just outside the shop door. No one inside had any clue what was happening.

“Move, dammit.”

After what felt like forever, the couple said their goodbyes and started walking down the street. Omari was now alone, except for his four guards, but Stitch had a clear shot.

His heart beat slow and steady as adrenaline flooded his veins.

This was it. The calm before the storm.

His pulse stayed even—he’d been trained for moments like this his whole life.

Then, a woman screamed.

The guards all snapped their heads toward him, hands going for their guns. It was now or never. He was just about to squeeze the trigger when Sloane’s voice hissed, “Not now. They’ll kill you.”

She yanked his arm and pulled him through the store toward the back exit. The guards were already moving toward the tobacco shop. They had seconds.

“Go!” she shouted. “I’ll meet you at my place.”

He didn’t have time to argue. He jumped on her scooter and sped off down the street. In his rearview mirror, he saw Sloane disappear into the crowd just as the four guards burst out onto the street.

By the time they realized what had happened, he was already gone.

CHAPTER 13

Stitch was angrier than she’d ever seen him.

Sloane walked into her apartment to find him pacing, fists clenched, his face stormy.

“Why did you stop me?” he snapped. “I had him. I was about to take the fucker out.”

Right now, he looked like Thor, god of thunder—bulging biceps and pure, pent-up rage. If she didn’t know him better, she’d be scared to death.

“And get yourself killed in the process?” She tossed her bag onto the bed and unwrapped her headscarf.

“That was a risk I was willing to take.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” She turned to face him.

He stormed toward her, blue eyes flashing fire. It took everything she had not to flinch.

“That’s not your call!” he growled. “It was my decision. Now I might never get another shot. My wife’s murderer is going to walk free.”

She froze.