Chapter Twenty-Four
S ticking to the shadows, I scanned the beach and the dock as I jogged toward the east side of the island. The three guards on dock patrol stood with their backs to me in front of the speed boat I wanted to use. All of them were ignoring their posts as they talked to each other.
I fell back into the shadows.
If I was lucky, they’d still be fucking off when I came back.
Wanting a goddamn smoke, but not willing to risk tipping off my presence by lighting up, I moved along the shadows of the mangroves. I needed to locate the other four guards before I took out the three on the dock.
I spotted the first guy, thankfully before he saw me. Fucker was half hidden in the mangroves, scanning the water like a fucking cranker. Worse, he was right in front of the pilings where Preston was supposed to leave my shit.
Goddamn it.
I stepped out of the shadows with my rifle pointing down. “Hey.”
The fucker spun and aimed. His eyes wild, he didn’t say shit.
“Lower your fucking weapon. I’m Ty.”
“I know who you are,” he said carefully with a Spanish accent.
“Then why the fuck are you aiming at me?”
He slowly lowered his weapon. “There was something in the water.”
Motherfucking shit . If it was Preston, he wouldn’t have gotten close enough to leave me my dry bag with this fuck standing right here. I scanned the waters looking for a boat, but didn’t see shit. Looking back at the guard, I barked out a question . “Then why didn’t you shoot?”
“I—”
“I didn’t hear any shots fired,” I interrupted, moving toward him. Fucker was tall, but skinny like a goddamn junkie. “I asked you a question. Why the fuck didn’t you shoot?”
Averting his gaze, he waved toward the water. “I did not see what it was. I heard—”
“You heard what?” Purposely cutting him off in a dick dominant move, I tipped my chin toward the water. “You hear shit, your first reaction should be to fire. This isn’t fucking playtime. You have a job to do. Did you, or didn’t you see something?”
“I told you I heard something,” he bit out before making a crucial mistake. Turning his back on me, he pointed at the pilings. “There was—”
He never had a chance.
One hand to his chin, the other to the back of his head, I twisted up and sideways.
His neck snapped, and he dropped to the ground.
One down.
Stepping over his body, the fucking cell vibrated in my pocket.
I pulled it out and answered. “What?”
“Is Santos behaving?” Dante asked.
“You shouldn’t let him use your leverage as a fuck toy.”
Pause. Then he laughed.
“What do you want? I’m busy.”
His laugh died. “Doing what?” he asked suspiciously.
“Introducing myself to your shit staff.” I spotted two more fucks behind an outbuilding passing a joint. “I’m worth five of these assholes.”
Dante let out a derisive sound. “Doubtful.”
“Yeah? I’m watching two of your junkie motherfuckers getting high as we speak.”
“Who?” he barked.
“Does it matter?” I glanced at the time. Seven minutes. I’d told her ten.
“Put the phone on speaker,” Dante ordered.
I hit the speaker and stepped out of the shadows. “Hey,” I yelled.
One of the fucks jumped, and the other dropped the joint, stepping on it and rattling off an excuse in Spanish.
Glaring at them, I held up the phone. “Dante wants to talk to both of you.”
“Who am I speaking with?” Dante demanded.
“Fernando,” one muttered.
“Carlos,” the other added.
“What are you two doing?” Dante asked.
“Just taking a break, boss,” Carlos answered. “We’re good. Everything’s quiet. We’re back on watch.” He palmed the rifle hanging from the strap on his shoulder. “We got it.” The fuck didn’t even put his finger on the trigger guard.
“How many did you say, Asher?” Dante asked me casually.
“Five.” I knew what the fuck he was getting at.
“Prove it,” Dante demanded.
Quick, precise, I fired two shots.
Fernando and Carlos dropped.
I took the phone off speaker as a third guy came running around the back of the building yelling for his dead buddies.
Aiming, I fired off a third shot.
His yelling died with him.
“You’re fucking welcome,” I told Dante.
“I expect you to prove you’re worth four of my men now,” he stated, all business. “If not, I’ll extract four people from your life.”
He could fucking go ahead and try.
Someone in the background on his end called his name, saving me from telling him to count his days.
Dante ignored whoever it was. “Protect my paycheck, Mr. Asher.”
“Pay me and I will,” I clipped, keeping the lie going. “I have to go. I’m on patrol now.” I hung up.
Grabbing two extra pieces off the dead fucks, I jogged back to the main house.