Chapter 36 – Ava Jade
AVA JADE
M ickey’s sketches of the factory were fucking atrocious, but they would have to do. He confirmed it. The Kings were there. Holed up inside. He heard arguing inside and there had been at least fifteen cars parked along an old dirt service road leading up to the place.
There hadn’t been a Jeep, but that didn’t mean Carson wasn’t there. He had to be there. We had eyes on the only exit road branching off from the service road now, and only one car had left while two others returned since Mickey got back.
They were definitely camping out there and the only exterior precautions they were taking were a few trip wires and from what Mickey could tell, only one security cam facing the road.
The plan was simple, and we went over it for the fifth time since its inception.
“Pinkie, you’re coming in from the northwest with Greg. Mickey with Ryan from the southeast side.”
“And we’re hitting it direct from the southwest face,” Grey finished for Diesel.
“Right. Each of you chucks your grenades into the windows, here, here, and here on my mark.”
“That will filter them out through the front exit here where the rest of our force will be waiting,” I added, practically knowing the whole damn spiel word for word now. “Now can we go?”
“There’s one last thing.”
We waited, chomping at the bit to go outside with the others packing the vans full of everything we needed.
“Ava Jade, I’m going to need you to stay back with the other snipers.”
“What?” I demanded, my voice dripping venom.
“Look,” Diesel said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Before you go biting my head off, hear me out.”
I looked to my guys for help, but it didn’t look like I was going to get any.
“I’d bet my left nut that you’re a better shot than any of the others on your worst day. You’re a natural. I need that kind of skill at my back. I need someone up in the nest who isn’t going to take my head off trying to take out the enemy beside me.”
“And you trust that I won’t?”
“Well, if you keep looking at me like that, I might reconsider.”
“I don’t want to be way up on the hill, Dies. I need to be down there. With them,” I gestured to Rook, Grey, and Corvus. I shoved Rook next to me. “Say something.”
“It would be more fun if she was with us.”
Diesel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rook, that is such a shit argument I don’t even know where to start.”
“Corv? Grey?” I tried, but Corv was chewing his lips and Grey was toeing the carpet. “Seriously?”
Corv scratched the back of his head, where sandy blond hair had begun to grow back, covering the scars a little better.
I’d give him new ones if he didn’t pipe up.
“Sparrow, it’s not a bad idea. You are a crack shot.
Just yesterday you hit a rolling barrel at two hundred fifty yards and still managed to hit within the second ring of the bullseye.
You’re the best we have. Even better than Grey. ”
“Especially now,” Grey muttered, and I knew he was thinking about how his ability with the sniper had taken a hit with the loss of his eye. He had to handle the weapon on the opposite side, needing to learn it all over again.
“Not what I meant,” Corv said to Grey before turning back to me. “Think about it for a sec. If you’re up there, you can eliminate any threats that come at us before we can ever see them coming.”
“And if it gets too messy and you can’t get a clean shot on any of them, then you’re not so far away that you can’t run into the action,” Rook added with a wink. “I’ll save you a few.”
“I don’t like the thought of her being alone up there, though,” Grey said on a breath.
“She won’t be,” Diesel argued. “There will be two other snipers with her.”
I groaned inwardly, breathing deep to suppress the wrath building in the shape of my darkness as I thought it through.
Fuck.
I’d hit Lenny Ace straight through the heart at two hundred yards despite the wind rolling in off the lake.
It really was a beautiful shot. And honestly?
I’d bet Diesel’s left nut and his right, that I could do it again if I needed to.
Being able to watch over my guys while they were down there wasn’t a half bad idea, either.
“You have the comms, still?” I asked Grey, and he grinned up at me, digging in his black pack for them.
“Thought you said they’d be too distracting.”
Grey scattered the little ear pieces on Diesel’s kitchen table, and I lifted one up, inspecting it. “I did. But if I’m going to be watching from above, then it might be helpful to warn you if trouble’s coming your way.”
“You’ll do it, then?” Diesel asked, trying to confirm as the screen door banged closed and Pinkie appeared in the hall.
“We’re all packed up, boss.”
“Yeah, I’ll do it. But if it looks too hairy down there I’m leaving that fucking thing on the hill and I’m coming down.”
Diesel offered me a rare grin. “Deal. If the other’s come down with you just ditch all the ammo first, yeah? Don’t need our enemies using our own hardware against us.” Diesel’s brows drew, his gaze flicking back to Pinkie. “What is it, Pinkie? Why are you hovering?”
“The vet’s shitting a brick, Dies. You sure we need him with us?”
A muscle in Dies’ jaw twitched. “I’ll handle it. Go make sure the snipers packed Big Red. Ava Jade’s going to be up in the hills with them.”
“Nice,” Pinkie said. “I’ll go check.”
Diesel followed him out the front door while I turned the ear piece this way and that between my fingers. “How’s the range on these?”
“More than good enough.”
“Is he always such a buzzkill?”
“Might as well be his middle name,” Rook said with a rough laugh. “Where do you think Corv gets it from?”
Grey scooped up all the comms gear and deposited it back into his bag.
“Come on, let’s go gear up,” I said, my fingers itching for my blades as we left the house. One way or another, each one would kiss the skin of our enemies tonight. And one way or another, Carson Bates would be ours before the night was through.
“Should we do it now?” Grey asked as we stepped out into the night to a swarm of Saints double checking their weapons. Strapping on vests and other gear.
“Do what now?” I asked.
Rook caught my elbow, dragging me to the open back of a nondescript black van. “Diesel got a wide selection, but if there isn’t one here that suits you, you can borrow one of ours for now.”
“What are you talking about?”
Corvus stepped ahead of Rook, flipping back a swath of grey fabric laid in the bed of the van to reveal an arsenal of handguns.
Grey wrapped his hands around my shoulders from behind, looking over my shoulder at all the weapons. “Call it an early Christmas present.”
A thrill went through me and I found myself grinning. “I get to pick one? Whichever one I want?”
“Yep,” Grey said in my ear. “Personally, I’d recommend the Smith & Wesson or the Colt 1911.” He indicated two near identical guns save for the difference in grip. One had a reddish colored diamond pattern grip that looked to be made of horn while the other was a lighter oak-looking wood.
“You know I’m a sucker for a Browning,” Rook added, lifting a gun from the cloth that looked similar to his own, save for the darker grip. He disassembled it in a matter of seconds, checking the parts before clicking it all back together and handing it to me. “Looks solid.”
“She can’t go wrong with the Beretta or the Colt,” Corvus spoke up, passing me another in my other hand. This one was a simple black number, sleek and smaller than the Browning. I tested the weight of each in my hands, truly feeling like a kid on Christmas fucking morning.
I set both down, deliberating, my eyes raking over the options until one caught my attention.
The black cherry grip with a carved out starburst design was so unique by comparison, and I lifted it, feeling its weight.
A winged pewter medallion in the middle of the grip reminded me of my Crows. It felt like the right size.
“Your girl has expensive taste,” Diesel said, coming up behind us. “Not going to lie, I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t choose the Wilson Combat. It’s a beauty.”
“Yeah?” I asked, holding it at arm’s length to look down the sight, ensuring I wasn’t pointing it at anyone. It was heavy enough that I knew the mag was loaded, but the safety was still on.
“Yeah,” Diesel echoed. “It’s a solid choice—basically what would be born if the Colt and the Browning had a baby. Here.”
He reached around me to grab two extra mags. “They’re a fifteen round capacity.”
I took them from him, hating how this man could make me furious one minute and then like this the next. “Thanks for doing this, Dies. I appreciate it.”
He nodded. “Of course. ’Bout time you had your own weapon aside from your blades. Here, I grabbed a couple holster options for you. Thigh, ankle, or chest?”
Considering I already had my blades across my chest and strapped to both ankles as well as my belt and one thigh, there was really only one free space. “Thigh,” I said, but Corvus took the strap from Diesel before I could reach out and grab it, kneeling at my feet.
“Spread your legs for me, Sparrow.”
Yes, sir.
He set to fastening the straps in place, anchoring them to my belt, attaching the gun holster, positioning it just right. “Gun.”
I handed it to him, and he slipped it into place. “How does that feel? Good?”
I swallowed hard, tongue-tied, making Diesel clear his throat and excuse himself. “Yeah,” I answered finally. “That feels perfect.”
He gave my thigh a squeeze before rising back to his feet. “It suits you.”
I ran my hand over the grip. “Yeah. He’s a beaut.”
“He?”
“Oh yeah, definitely a he . Jealous?”
“If you keep stroking it like that, I might be.”
I laughed, realizing there were several other Saints looking my way. Some appraised my new weapon with admiration, but most wore grave expressions. Especially the newest recruits.
“This is going to work, right?” I asked my guys, keeping my voice down.
Rook nodded. “Yeah, Ghost. It’ll work.”
There was no other option.