Chapter 67
Warlord didn't even have time to steady his footing before the cold, familiar weight of a steel barrel pressed against his temple. The salt spray stung his eyes, but his gaze remained rock-solid as he looked up into Jarvis’s stunned face.
“Who the f*ck are—”
Jarvis never got the chance to finish. With a speed born of a thousand life-or-death skirmishes, Warlord’s hand shot up, his palm slamming into the side of the weapon to redirect the line of fire.
The gun discharged, a deafening crack that sent a round whistling into the dark Atlantic sky, but Warlord already had his other hand locked onto Jarvis’s throat. He surged upward, using his massive frame to drive Jarvis back against the side of the Jeep.
The deck of the Obsidian was a nightmare of shifting weight and slick met
