37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Dax
Eight of the most highly trained independent contract infantry were stationed outside of the old building of Ferraro Delicatessen.
The outside looked pretty much exactly how I remembered it, except there were no longer tables outside or red peonies in planters.
The sign’s lights were burned out, and all the windows were boarded.
Two bulky guards were stationed outside the doors, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably. If those two were any indication on what was waiting inside this building, then Wrangler would be well-prepared for a fight.
Getting Lucy out of there safely was gonna be a challenge. These two were definitely armed, and the guns were always bigger the closer we got to the epicenter of an operation like this.
I wore a headpiece connected to Emile, who was a block down the street in a surveillance van equipped with enough ammunition to take down the whole city.
Clay flanked my side as I signaled toward one of the snipers hidden behind a parked car that looked like it hadn’t been moved in months, the hood covered with grime and leaves.
The faint pop of a muffled MK 22 sounded off in two instantaneous beats, and the guards toppled to the ground with heavy thuds. Two of CIPHER’s guys swooped in to immediately cover the bodies in tarp and hauled them into the back of a nearby box truck.
I pulled my black ski mask over my face like a second skin. Clay and I sprinted to the building. This was where we’d agreed to split up. He’d take the front entrance, and I would go around the back, where I knew the delivery entrance was.
He gave me a silent salute, and a wave of appreciation rippled through the muscles in my chest as I jogged around to the back of the building, sliding my body inside the thin gap between it and the building that ran parallel to it.
I was wearing a bulletproof vest under my T-shirt and leather jacket, so I felt a little bulkier than usual.
I was also carrying two pistols and a rifle, which was poised at my side as I inched through the crack.
When I made it to the opening behind the building, I turned swiftly to see two more guards were camped near the dark, dimly lit rolling door.
One of them spotted me immediately and shouted, raising his pistol toward me and firing off a shot, which hit a nearby trash can.
Electricity charged through me as I sprang forward, ducking and aiming my rifle at his head, blowing it off. The other guard stumbled as he lifted his gun toward me, and I took him down before he had time to pull the trigger.
My heart beat steadily in my chest as I stepped over the first guard’s crumpled body, making my way to the rolling door in the humid nighttime air of June in New York.
I reached for the latch at the bottom of the door and hauled it upward, my memory flashing back to the hundreds of times I’d done the maneuver before.
I’d open that door to take in bread deliveries, produce orders, and backstock of supplies.
There was something very uncomfortable about being here now, which was heightened since the one thing I cared most about in this world was somewhere on the other side of this door.
I swung the door up and, as I’d expected, was greeted by a dark hallway.
A long-lost, familiar scent rose through my nose.
Granite and musky wood. For a second, I thought I smelled the faint aroma of garlic and tomato sauce that used to mingle through it, but I’d only imagined it.
Now, it was marred by dust and the unmistakable scent of death and decay.
I stepped through the delivery door and onto the creaky, damp floor. I pressed my back against the wall, stealthily making my way through the dark with nothing but the maps of my memory to guide me. I hoped the floorplans I’d given Clay were enough to help him on the other side.
I passed by where I knew the walk-in fridge was located. There were no lights on it to indicate it had been turned on, and I had a stark inkling I knew where that rotten smell was coming from.
Just as I was about to round the corner, I saw a headlamp sway in my direction. Wearing it was a guard with a semiautomatic, and I crouched low to the ground. Hiding with my back flat against the wall, I watched as the light started to shine through its cracks.
When I heard footsteps approach at a steady pace, I waited until I saw the guard pass me. Then, swift as a fox, I rose up and brought down the butt of my rifle straight on top of his head. I caught his arms as he fell unconsciously toward the floor, setting him down as quietly as possible.
Seconds later, I heard the pop of bullets being fired in the distance. My pulse skyrocketed, and I hoped they had come from Clay’s gun and not someone else’s.
It was so fucking hot in here, my shirt felt damp against my back with the added layers.
I was close to where the delivery hall ended with a door that opened into the back prep kitchen area of the deli. My eyes had adjusted a bit in the dark, but I couldn’t see very far in front of me, and I chastised myself for neglecting to bring night vision goggles.
I stopped in front of the door, taking a deep breath.
I’d done this a hundred times, but it had been years. And none of those times had so much been at stake.
I did what I knew how to do. I channeled the rage and pushed through the door.
Right in front of me were the shadowy outlines of four large guards who looked like they were armed to the teeth from the back.
They were all turned around, looking like they were about to head out toward where I knew the open area of the deli was located.
I held the door open behind me, trying to keep it from making any noise.
Just as I felt it close in the gap of the doorframe, I took a step forward and my foot connected with something hard and metal on the floor.
Fuck.
The noise was deafening on the tile floor.
“Hey!” One of the guards shouted, and all four of them turned around, their headlamps shining on my face. I bared my teeth in a wolfish grin that they couldn’t see beneath my mask.
They started firing at me immediately, and I shot back.
I felt one of their bullets plummet into my vest, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I stumbled backward, but arched, whipped back around and shot two of them in the face through their bandanas.
As one of the others reloaded, I pounced on him, gripping my long-edged knife from its sheath on my leg and slitting his throat.
Blood gushed from a deep wound, and he dropped to the floor with a gargling sound. The other was inches away from me, jerking his gun straight up but I swung around and knocked him in the side of the face with mine. He hitched backward and I shot him as he fell to the ground.
I heard bullets ricochet off metal, and I didn’t waste any more time, leaping over the guards’ bleeding bodies, racing toward the sound.
Several metal racks were positioned between the kitchen and where I heard the noise coming from, the same ones my dad used to stock with chips and snacks back in the deli’s heyday.
I zigzagged through them, more shots being fired as I pushed myself forward. I was met with a black tarp hung up from the ceiling like a heavy curtain, and I reached down to grip its edge and rolled myself underneath it.
Darkness concealed me, a red light positioned several feet away. Directed at—
My stomach dropped.
The scene in front of me sent my blood curdling in the hot room. Gone was the deli counter, once filled with artisan cured meats and other prepared foods that the entire neighborhood loved.
Three metal cells were lined up against the black brick wall, my mother’s mural beneath the paint invisible to the blind eye.
A red stage light was pointed at the one in the middle, and inside it stood Lucy.
Her blouse hung from her shoulders, her chest barely covered by the lace of her black bra.
The light bounced off her skin in a scarlet sheen. She was covered in blood.
My heart rattled against the bones in my chest, pumping hot wrath through my veins.
Chase hovered behind her with a death grip on her waist, a jagged knife positioned right against her throat. To the side, a figure in a baggy suit was strewn on the concrete floor next to the discarded black cowboy hat from the security videos.
The bodies of two guards were crumpled in the corners of the prison. To the left, I noticed a hagged looking, barely clothed blonde woman huddled against the wall, trying to remain unseen.
The blinking light of a camera was positioned on a tripod facing Lucy’s cell, a laptop flashing with an onslaught of message feeds coming through that I couldn’t read from where I was hunched down.
My jaw clenched as my eyes locked on Clay, who was standing a few feet away from the cell, his rifle aimed between the iron bars at Chase, who used Lucy to shield his body.
None of them noticed me as I melted into the shadows.