4. Vito
Vito
D riving past the ice cream bar while heading home for a few hours before the job with Bishop and Easton, I damn near cause an accident spotting my sweet sugar candy with an older woman as they’re handed ice cream cones.
Pulling off to the side of the road, I park illegally and watch them as they sit on a bench, enjoying their treat.
This was not what I expected to see, but it sure lights my ass up because any chance to land eyes on Stella is a good fucking day.
Her interactions with the woman are familiar, if not a little clumsy.
Like they’re getting reacquainted. The woman turns to face Stella, and I notice similar features, leading me to suspect they are mother and daughter.
A background check would confirm this; however, she seems the sort to be annoyed by the invasion, so I decide to hold back on it for now.
They stay seated until their desserts are finished, then begin walking the path along the beach. Watching until they’re out of sight, I hop back into my truck and drive slowly until finding them again, and park a block or two up so I can gaze upon Stella longer.
By the time the street lights illuminate and the sun sets, I’ve followed them three times before they turn back around. Once I ensure they reach their vehicle and are on their way home, I covertly accompany them to their single-story dwelling and watch as they get inside, safe and sound.
Leaving is difficult. What I want to do is knock on their door and claim my woman. I’ve waited for so damn long for someone like her, and the craving has turned into obsession. After tonight, my focus will shift solely on her for as long as I please, and that is something to look forward to.
Instead of driving home, I hit my storage unit to grab what I’ll need for this ambush tonight. Bishop confirmed they have everything we’ll need; however, I prefer my own tools of the trade.
After unlocking the door, I slip in and relock it before tugging on the dim light in the middle of the eight-by-eight unit.
All my weapons are licensed, but I’d hate for anyone to see what I’ve procured and try to steal them.
The biometric scanner on the door makes it difficult to break in, but nothing is impossible nowadays.
Grabbing a large duffel bag from a shelf, I prop it open on the makeshift counter.
First thing to go in is my HK416 assault rifle; this bad boy saw me through a lot of battles.
I gather a few ammo cartridges for it, pocketing them in the inside liner.
Next are two Glock 19s with enough ammo clips to initiate a siege.
Satisfied, I move on to hand weaponry. Strider knives are my favorites, so I pack four in the side pocket before searching for zip ties and a garrote that I haven’t used in years.
Pops of memory from a fight in the dark mountains of Afghanistan flash in and out as I finish packing my gear.
My team and I had been cut off from communication due to satellite movements in the area.
We spent ten hours in the pitch black, took out an entire group of men holding a small village hostage, with not a single shot fired.
That was one of my most memorable missions, one unrestricted by rules.
Our orders were to kill, not capture, after we received intel that this was the same savage group of men who set fire to an all-girls school, killing all 56 occupants after raping several of them.
There were three more missions after that one, all with similar outcomes.
Benevolent tycoons who thought their money would buy them out of any situation.
Diplomats who believed they were above the savageness of war.
And a group of doctors who had their feet cut off.
That one was particularly heinous because they were there to help.
Securing my arsenal, I snatch a Kevlar vest on the way out.
Pulling off the light before opening the door, I slip out as stealthily as I came in.
With everything locked up, I head to my truck, the night quiet as I open the back door, lift the bench seat, and store my bag, then make my way towards the Kincaid brothers.
“Hey, man, thanks again for doing this.” Easton offers a hand, and I take it before he shares the details of how this is about to go down. “You’ll watch our backs from the top of that warehouse; we’ll do the dirty work.”
Frowning, disappointment wallops my chest. “So, no blood for me?”
They share a look, and Easton responds, “I mean, I didn’t think you’d want to take that risk for shit that hasn’t got anything to do with you,” standing taller as he straps on his vest.
Giving him an annoyed look, I mutter, “I like the action too.”
“Dude, are you pouting?” Bishop nearly chokes on his laughter.
Tossing a water bottle at his head, he stops and rubs his temple. “I’ll enter through the back, catch the runners you two fools lose.”
Shaking their heads, they don’t argue as we finish prepping. We’re parked two blocks away, vehicles hidden from view, and locked up tight as we begin moving towards our targets’ building.
A bunch of amateurs, in my opinion. Two guys wander away from the front door, smoking and fucking around on their phones as we approach.
“Give me thirty seconds.” I rush around the building after ensuring there are no cameras to catch me, and set up a few feet away behind a dumpster. Pot shots will be my friend tonight.
It’s not long before chaos erupts. Gunfire lights up the windows, followed by yelling and pain-filled screams. Hearing the commotion getting closer, I click off my assault rifle’s safety, set my finger on the trigger, keep my eye on the door, and prepare for bodies to rush out to me.
The metal panel swings open, and two men stumble over each other, with four more barreling in hot behind them.
A grin splits my lips as I double-tap the trigger and both men fall.
The door begins to close just as another man comes through.
I hit him between the eyes as the other three finally catch on, trying to duck and run.
It doesn’t work. Their skulls explode with each shot.
Blood splatters against the outside of the warehouse as things begin to quiet down inside.
“Don’t shoot!” gets yelled a second before the rear door opens again, and Bishop tears out like he’s in a horror film—blood-covered, ripped shirt, psychotic smile. “God, that felt good.”
“Eh.” Shrugging a shoulder, I’m kind of sad I missed the close combat they seemed to enjoy. “Where’s East?”
“Clean up.” He turns and re-enters the building. Propping open the door, he points to the bodies I dropped and says, “We need to haul them back in.”
Grabbing the arms of one dead guy, I drag him inside, noticing a pile of bodies where Easton has collected them. “We burning them?”
“Yup.” It’s not an unfamiliar scene with the three of us. We’ve done plenty of missions like this in the past. Some in the military, and some hired out. “We’ve got about five minutes before sirens head this way. If you’d like to bolt now, we’ll talk next week.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Bishop and I finish lugging bodies in and cleaning up anything that’ll trace back to us before Easton pours gasoline on the bodies and then around the outside perimeter of the building. The drugs are buried under the dead, and in seconds, fire lights the night sky.
Could be beautiful, if not for the reason behind it.
I wonder if Stella would like a beach bonfire. Would she want to roast marshmallows or cuddle under a blanket? Things I’ll have to find out soon.