41. Forty-One
Boots are laced.
Vest is secured.
Knife is strapped to my leg.
I’m as prepared as I ever could be.
It’s the sixth time I’ve checked everything, but it’s the only thing I can do to keep my hands busy and my mind from spiraling.
Dane, Silas, Ray, and I sit silently in the back of the cleaning van, waiting for Tucker to bring us into the compound, waiting to make our move. My hands are shaking. They have been ever since Tucker left his room this morning, his normal brilliance dulled with stress. His outfit, a light blue polo shirt and khaki pants, leaves him so much more vulnerable than I am.
They’re all so much more vulnerable than I am.
Tears prick in my eyes when I remember the flash of fear crossing over his face. His terror was there and gone in a second, replaced quickly with a small reassuring smile, but it did nothing to ease my mind.
The anxiety winds and tightens around a ball of sour and bitter anger in my chest. I’m the one who should be unarmed. I’m the one who should be unprotected. Yet he’s driving. He’s the face of our fa?ade. He’s the one who will be hurt if this goes wrong, and I’m sitting in the back seat, checking my layers upon layers of gear, swaddled and protected for absolutely no reason.
I look at the three men with me in the back of the van, all of us separated from Tucker by a barricade of cleaning supplies. We’re all concealed, all protected during the first phase of this job, and we’re all radiating tension.
Ray’s eyes continually flick to the front of the van and linger for just a second too long. Silas rests one hand on my knee, his fingers fidgeting and tapping with an unsteady rhythm. Dane alternates between staring off, his eyes unfocused but his mind clearly running overtime, and checking his watch making sure we’re following his timeline to the second.
No one is speaking. No one is really looking at each other.
The van slows, and I lean against the wall, mentally revisiting the map of the compound. There should be a gate coming up ahead, as well as a guard shack with only one guard, if Dane’s planning is correct. Everything in me itches to look out the small peephole drilled into the wall to see what’s happening. Where we are and who might be ready to harm my men. But I sit tight, my tense muscles anchor me in place. I grip tightly to the edge of the seat beneath me in a useless attempt to stop the trembling.
I hold my breath, trying to will myself invisible when Tucker rolls his window down. Despite the makeshift wall obscuring my view, I can’t help but hone in on the small slivers of Tucker I can see. His elbow. His shoulder.
“Good morning,” Tucker says brightly, every bit the eager replacement he’s supposed to be.
I can’t make out the deep voice that responds, so I close my eyes, silently begging my ears to do better.
“Yeah, Tammie called out today, but she asked me to say hello.”
Another indistinguishable comment from the guard and my heart stops in my chest when I hear a soft inhale from the front seat.
My eyes snap open.
What’s happening? Is he okay?
What the fuck do I do if he’s not?
But then laughter, loud and boisterous, comes from the front seat. My body relaxes into Silas as relief floods me.
“Yeah, man, I’m going to let you tell her that. I’m not risking it,” Tucker manages the words through a few chuckles and a second later the distinct sound of the gate sliding open drifts back to us.
He says a cheery goodbye to the guard, and it’s never been more clear to me why he was sent into the labs, why he was the one to charm his way into Omni and get me out.
My breath leaves me in a quiet, grateful huff, and I risk a glance at Ray. His head is bowed down and he’s bouncing his knee, but there’s a trace of a smile pulling at his lips, visible just for a moment before he pulls the knit half-mask over his mouth and nose.
It’s as if he’s pulling on a new personality. Once his face is obscured, he settles into himself, steadying his small anxious movements and squaring his shoulders. Gone are the jokes, the flirting, the cockiness I’m so accustomed to. In his place is a brutally serious man ready to do anything to get this job done. To secure the hard drive and protect his team no matter what.
His intensity sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s nearly enough to distract me from my own tension.
I adjust the knit mask covering my own face, feeling like I slipped into a new persona too. The terror slowly subsides as I remind myself we will be okay, that we’re prepared for whatever may come.
This isn’t a Tank. I’m not defenseless. I’m not alone.
I’ll be walking into a building, by choice, and I’m doing it to help the men who took me in. It doesn’t matter how this arrangement came about, I am deciding this. I am choosing to throw myself into this dangerous place. I am in control of what comes next, and maybe that’s the difference.
Silas gives my leg a tight squeeze before pulling away, and despite the loss of his touch I feel a wave of calm start to wash over me. I’m ready.
We’re all ready for this.
If we weren’t, Dane wouldn’t be letting us make this move.
The van tilts, and I know we’re pulling into the underground parking garage. The air already feels heavier, like even the oxygen around us is holding its breath, waiting to see if we’re all going to make it out of here alive.
There’s a moment of pause after the engine cuts out, just a moment, before Tucker unfastens his seatbelt.
Be safe, I silently encourage.
Tucker gets out and removes the cleaning supplies from the passenger seat before striding off alone.
I finally allow myself to turn, centering myself in front of the peephole and watch his unguarded back disappear into the building. I stay there, peering out for every millisecond I can, keeping my eye on him until he’s fully out of view, as if through my observation alone I can keep him safe.
I shuffle back down to my seat, moving as quietly as I can, and wait.
The next five minutes are the longest I’ve ever had to sit through. Each second that passes without the sounds of gunfire is a blessing.
All I can do is stare forward with my forearms resting on my knees, silently drilling myself over and over again on every step, every redundancy outlined for us. Reviewing everything that could possibly go wrong and how we get around it. How I get around it.
I just need to get into the vault, find the hard drive, and get out before I pass out.
Easy. It’s going to be easy.
“Let’s go.”
Dane’s terse voice breaks the silence, and we’re all moving without another word needed.
The cameras should be down by now, thanks to Tucker, but we still have to worry about anyone who might be walking through the building. Any staff or stray guards falling behind on their scheduled rounds would complicate things before they truly started.
We stalk through the service corridor before emerging into a grand, wide-open room. I’m struck by the opulence of it. The tapestries. The art. The gold foiled columns. All of it screaming wealth and grandeur.
It’s horrifically ugly, but it sure as hell gets the point across. A petty part of me wishes I was dirtier, that I could track mud over the pristine marble floors.
I’m grateful for the small distraction. When I’m thinking about tearing up the velvet curtains, I’m not worrying for the safety of my men, and anxiety isn’t shredding my insides about how everything could go wrong in an instant.
We move through another ornately decorated and soulless room, as we continue on the mapped-out path to the vault. It has been utterly silent in the building, even our feet fall without making any noise.
So when the sound of boots hitting marble echoes through the halls, my heart plummets.