Blade (The Alpha Elite #11)

Chapter Seventy-One

Blade

R eplaying every damn word I’d said to her and fucking regretting them, I drove down a residential street. Parking two doors down from her place, I scanned the older neighborhood of rundown houses.

Hers was the worst.

It was also the only one with interior lights on and music blasting at this hour.

I called November.

He answered on the first ring. “I have you on satellite. Women were cleared from the premises twenty minutes ago. Fifteen heat signatures on-site. Five in the living room, four in the kitchen, six in the basement. Your contact is coming up on your six. Black Mercedes. Sweep team’s on standby.”

“Copy. You have ID confirmation on all fifteen?”

“Affirmative,” November replied. “Same targets I texted you headshots of.”

Fuck. “The shooter from Little Havana’s missing from those.”

“He hasn’t returned from Miami yet, but he won’t be a problem.”

“Meaning?” The Mercedes pulled in behind me.

“Part of the deal Alpha cut with Rawley.”

“You trust a fucking trafficker?” Jesus Christ.

“No. Contingencies are in place.”

Good. I gave him a heads-up on the one change to his plan I was implementing. “Sweep team’s going to have to make another pass tomorrow. I’m leaving Ashland in place, incapacitated for twelve hours while I retrieve the brunette. She’s going to have final say.”

“Blade—”

“Not discussing it,” I warned.

November hesitated. Then his monotone filled the line. “Copy. Call if you have any problems. I’ll alert the team and arrange for surveillance while you’re retrieving the woman. Sitrep once you’re back in the air.”

“Copy.” I ended the call and got out of the rental the same time the driver got out of the Mercedes. Fucker looked eighteen if he was a day. “You Rawley?”

He smiled. Gold teeth. “Yeah. Alpha didn’t say you were a big motherfucker. You fight them Taliban too?”

Fucking Christ. “How old are you?”

He laughed. “Thirty-six, motherfucker. You?”

“Bullshit.”

He grabbed his junk. “Ladies keep me looking young. You know what I’m sayin’?” Sizing me up, his expression turned serious. “Nah, motherfucker, you don’t know shit. You ain’t gettin’ any.” He shook his head. “That’s a damn shame, though. You keepin’ us a free fuckin’ country and all that, and you ain’t gettin’ no pussy for it.” He tsked. “Damn fuckin’ shame.” He glanced at the house. “We gonna drop these fuckers or what?”

“You’re not going to do anything but wait for me to come back out. Then you can move in, grab the product, and exfil.”

“Nah, motherfucker. I ain’t hangin’ like that. My territory, my crib now. I’m goin’ in, same as you.” He lifted his shirt to show me his piece idiotically shoved into the front of his jeans.

“Not your fucking house,” I warned. “This was negotiated.”

He laughed. “ Shit . I’m just playin’ you, Taliban Terminator. Relax. I got you. Your lady is cool. We cool. I won’t even look her way. This crib’ll be dead to me after tonight.” His expression turned serious again as he casually palmed his Glock. “None of my brothers gonna look her way neither. They do, I’ll handle ’em.” He tapped his temple with the barrel of his 9mm. “You feel me?”

I stared him down so he could fucking feel me.

He nodded. “I got you. Alpha good people. I ain’t got no beef. We cool.” He leaned back on his ride and crossed his arms while still holding his Glock. “Go do your thing, Terminator. I’ll be waitin’.”

For half a second, I contemplated the tradeoff of having him on scene versus witnessing me going in and coming out.

He smiled. “I know what you’re thinkin’.”

“No, you don’t.”

He chuckled. “You think I don’t know this play? Witness, accomplice—accomplice, witness? Big difference in lockup.”

I didn’t say shit.

He shook his head. “I ain’t no snitch. Besides, Alpha knows where me and my baby mama live.”

Didn’t ask how. Didn’t want to know. “Eight minutes.” I checked the larger magazine in my Sig that I’d switched to. Seventeen plus one in the chamber.

“ Shit . Eight minutes and one fuckin’ clip?” Rawley smirked. “Damn, maybe you are gettin’ pussy, motherfucker.” His tone went all business. “There’re fifteen of Ashland’s boys in there. All of ’em armed. Probably all fuckin’ high too. Ashland ain’t got no control.”

“Eight minutes,” I repeated, screwing on my suppressor. “Then you’ll have ten to get your shit and clear out.” I moved my backup 9mm from my SOB holster to a thigh holster.

Rawley cocked his head as he watched me. “Okay, dawg, I got you now. Goin’ all guns akimbo. That’s some straight-up military shit right there. And don’t sweat it. Alpha told me I’m in and out. That’s why I got my crew with me.” He smiled. “But we won’t need half of that.”

Not bothering to tell him dual-wielding wasn’t a fucking military tactic, I turned toward the house.

“Hey.”

I glanced back.

“Good luck, Terminator.”

“Don’t need it.”

He laughed, and I moved.

Six minutes later, there were fifteen dead drug pushers and one runner pissing himself as I held a gun to his head while driving my blade into his ankle.

Too stupid or too high to get off the couch and fight, the piece of shit yelled out in pain. “What the fuck, man? Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah.” I yanked out my knife and shoved him to the floor. “A fucking rapist.” With two swift strokes, I carved one-inch-deep linear cuts across his chest.

He screamed like a pussy.

One kick to the head, and the piece of shit was unconscious. Giving him more leniency than he deserved, I zip-tied his hands and legs then hog-tied him.

On my way out, I did a full sweep of the place. It was fucking trashed, but there were a few framed pictures still hanging in the main hall. I paused for a second to look at one of them, then exfilled.

Eight minutes later, I was back at the rental.

Rawley grinned. “ Damn , Terminator, you weren’t playin’.”

“Leave Ashland alive,” I warned. “I’m coming back.”

Rawley’s smile dropped. “For real?”

“Twelve hours. He better be fucking breathing.”

“Dawg,” he drew out in warning. “That ain’t part of the deal. You drop Ashland and his crew, your lady walks.”

Reining in my fucking rage at hearing him mention the brunette, I set him straight. “I didn’t say indefinitely. I said twelve hours.”

Rawley stared at me a beat, then nodded. “A’ight. I feel you, Terminator. Ain’t nobody gonna fuck with him for twelve hours. But after that, he better be….” Holding his Glock to his head again, he mimed a shot. “Tell Alpha to send me proof when it’s done. Real proof, dawg. Otherwise, I’m comin’ back.” He smiled. “I know you military brothers. You make shit disappear worse ’an us.”

“Copy on confirmation.” I’d figure it out if she wanted the piece of shit left alive.

Rawley laughed. “ Damn , Terminator, you are one detached motherfucker. You sure you don’t wanna join my crew? I’ll make sure you’re drownin’ in pussy.”

Not bothering to glare at him, I got in the rental.