Chapter 17 #3
I pant out, “Who said I play fair? All it took was a threat, and they saw their money slipping away.”
The voices behind me grow closer as I run across the roof, jumping from one to another, when I notice a shadow to my left. I halt abruptly and spin to shove him off the roof before kicking the guy next to him to his death, too.
They howl all the way down.
“The balance of the universe hangs on a scale, and I’m doing my bidding, so consider us even.” My words quickly dissolve when a blade slices across my cheek, and I hiss at the subtle sting it leaves behind. “Watch it. I have someone who loves this face.”
My hands shoot forward to block his punch before I twist his wrist and shoot him with my suppressor. In quick succession, I fire and kill the remaining two in a row as they show up. The bullets pierce their skulls, and they drop down before the guy who cut my cheek rolls off the roof.
I run to a juncture between two buildings with a privacy wall, lower than the rest, and perfect for propping my rifle on. This spot is directly in front of the parking lot, which spreads across the center of the property.
I observe the vehicles and the fifteen people on-site waiting for more to arrive.
The buildings are arranged in a C-shape, with stone paths and overgrown vegetation surrounding them.
“So, I put a microphone in Devon’s jacket when I went to the coffee shop earlier,” Braxton says. “You were right. He never misses a day without their coffee. We’ll be able to hear what they say in a second.”
I rest my rifle, set it up, and scan the team through the scope.
On most days, they deal with drugs, but they also kidnap kids to please their bosses and get a bigger cut. The more they contribute, the larger their paycheck. These fools don’t realize that the more they involve themselves, the shorter their lifespan.
The vicious grins on their faces belong to killers, rapists, drug dealers, child molesters, and the list goes on.
“I have something to tell you.” Braxton pauses. “When I saw Devon at the coffee shop, he had a photo of your wife on his phone. He then got a call from someone, and said her price tag will earn the boss’s respect.”
The muscle in my jaw tics as I crack my neck. “He earned himself a bullet to the head,” I reply, waiting for him to switch the audio and connect me to Devon’s microphone.
“Yo, dude, we got new merchandise. What are you doing?” Devon, the frail, jittery dealer in this crew, says as he paces back and forth beside Mitch. His dark blonde hair sweeps across his shoulders while he nervously chews on his bottom lip. He is clearly unfit for this “lifestyle.”
He’s a liability, and he wants to kill my wife—what a joke.
Mitch flicks his eyes away from the cigarette and looks at him, appearing increasingly nonchalant. “Smoking.”
I almost chuckle at his answer.
“This dude,” Devon chuckles uncomfortably, shaking his head from side to side, sending a rush through my system. I like it when they feel uncomfortable. It alters my brain chemistry.
“Chill. You make everyone suspicious.” Mitch juts his chin toward the other dealers behind him, who watch them with pointed looks, their hands brushing against the guns in their holsters. But Rick, the head of the crew, is the one I don’t trust at all with his shifty eyes and evil smirk.
With a brief glance, Devon says, “Yeah, you’re right.” Resting his hands on his hips, he leans against the semi-truck beside Mitch.
That guy will ruin everything I’m trying to build if he keeps acting like he has something to hide. After all, we’re collateral damage.
I got lucky with this sloppy crew when their sniper went missing—he wasn’t that good anyway. They needed someone better, and they needed it fast; I happened to slot in perfectly.
Shame that they’re dead now.
Mitch has been working undercover for three months as a driver. We studied them carefully enough to know they will be killed after the transaction is authorized. Minh and Third Eye are very meticulous. No one has caught them because no one remains alive to sell them out.
Devon blurted that there would be another shipment of clothing to create a diversion. The stakes are high, as is the payment, which means everyone is on edge. One wrong move, and bullets will hurtle through the thin silence.
“Another Semi is entering the lot,” Braxton informs me through the earpiece.
Shortly after, an identical truck slowly parks next to the one Mitch is leaning against.
“They are waiting for approval.”
“And I’m waiting for their bosses to show up so I can put a bullet in their heads and run off into the sunset like the sweet princess I am.” I make Braxton laugh.
I have to keep my sense of humor if I want to survive this suicide mission.
It’s been two years since I last saw Winona.
I count every hour of every day, just like I did after she left Germany.
My only comfort is that I survived five years without seeing her.
I can endure, however long it takes this time, until I see her again.
I’m running on empty, longing for the sweet taste of her lips, knowing she’ll be waiting for me at the finish line. I want to smooch her with all the love that’s caged inside me.
Of course, I keep tabs on her without Romina’s knowledge.
Braxton set up cameras in our house and her car so I could watch her from a distance. I wouldn’t risk it.
Part of me hopes she gives Romina hell just to piss her off for me.
I bite my tongue to suppress a smile.
Mira, the only woman on the crew, stays in the corner where she can see everyone, her arms wrapped around her midsection as her eyes track their movements.
A frightened look crosses her face every few moments until she flares her nostrils and brushes it away.
She doesn’t belong here, and I hadn’t seen her around until yesterday.
Rick said she’s just a side project.
Whatever that means, I don’t like it. It sets off my senses before they go haywire.
“Mira!” Rick shouts like an animal, startling the crap out of her and sliding his burner phone into his front pocket.
“Come with me to the gravel path and scan the area to make sure no one followed. The third crew will meet us there. The rest should be on your best behavior.” His wicked smirk appears. “The show is about to go on the road.”
We have one idiot on edge, a cowboy, and a woman who remains a mystery to me, and right now, I don’t have time for that.
“Three vehicles are on their way.” Braxton gulps loudly, and I can tell the nerves have finally gotten to him. “They are on high alert. We should do this quickly and get out.”
I flex my hand and curve my finger over the trigger. “Copy.”
“Do you think they will be here?” Concern fills his voice.
I clear my throat and lick my dry lips. “They will. I need to get to him. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” Braxton repeats, and I can hear the smile in his voice, a quality I’ve come to value during the many months we’ve spent together. Trust isn’t something I give easily. It never has been. But for Winona, I had to do this.
Two cars cruise into the parking lot and stop a short distance from the others. Eight armed men quickly step out of the black SUVs and wait. One guard raises his hand, and everyone freezes before he opens the passenger door.
A dark Oxford shoe meets the asphalt before a tall figure in an expensive, tailored suit steps out.
Minh.
“A minor change of plans, guys.” An evil smirk crawls across his lips. “Third Eye will meet us at the next stop. Yes, you heard it right. If all goes well, you will be rich men by the end of this week.” The devilish gleam in his coal-black eyes matches his devious words.
Happy chatter and claps echo as Mitch quietly slips into the driver’s seat of the second truck.
That’s my cue to get in position.
Locked onto Minh’s head, I take a deep breath, and a Bodies by Drowning Pool blares in my earpiece.
I appreciate Braxton’s humor because it instantly puts me in the rhythm.
I pull the trigger, and that smirk is scraped off his face real fast as he drops to the ground. Everyone takes a collective step back and reaches for their firearms seconds before the bloodbath begins.
One drops dead. Two drop dead. Three drop dead.
Twenty-something guys fall to the ground one after another until the last one stands. Devon remains frozen in place, his eyes darting from side to side. I aim for the spot between his eyes and… bang!
No one threatens what is mine.
“There’s a fire escape to your right. Get down immediately.
I’m calling first responders to get to the kids, and we have to bounce,” Braxton instructs me, pounding on his keyboard with such intensity that it might break by the end of the night.
“There’s a vehicle still outside, along with Rick and Mira. ”
“Leave them.” I already knew this day would come. To reach Third Eye and that boss no one seems to know about, I need to become the plan.
Climbing down quickly, I run past the man I kicked off the roof, who is impaled on a sharpened spear, slicing through the air.
“What are you doing?” Mitch runs toward me.
“Get out of here,” I order, snatching the jiggling keychain from his hands and handing him my rifle.
“Go to Braxton and get out of here. That’s an order.” I unlock the chain from the truck door.
His brows knit together, concern flooding his expression. He looks at me and says, “Be careful.” With a final glance, Mitch sprints away into the darkness of the night.
As I unfasten the chain from the large doors, I pull one open.
A breath catches in my throat, and I can’t exhale until a small hand clutches my jacket to get my attention. A hundred terrified faces stare at me. The thought of all the horrors they have faced so far paralyzes me.
The rage sinks down my bobbing throat only to surge back up, exploding in my mind. It feels like someone has crushed it mercilessly.