Chapter 20 #2
He stood with one shoulder against the wall, arms folded tight, eyes on the map behind Blackjack’s head like he could see the boardwalk building from here. The muscle in his jaw ticked once. Twice.
“We go,” he said finally.
Blackjack’s gaze slid to him. “You sure?” he asked.
“Roman’s right about one thing,” Jersey said.
“If Tesauro’s got his hands on the wife and the daughter, this isn’t just about money.
It’s about pride. Men like that do their worst shit when they feel insulted.
If we don’t at least look, he’s going to drag us into the fallout anyway when he starts burning things in response to whatever Tesauro sends him.
I’d rather be in front of it than behind it. ”
I nodded. “Same,” I said. “We’ve been playing catch up since this started. Feels nice to walk into the fire on purpose for once instead of just showing up to count bodies.”
8-Ball let out a breath. “Then the question isn’t if or when,” he said. “It’s how.”
Blackjack hit the mute button again.
Roman’s voice came back in mid-exhale. “—and in case you’re wondering, yes, I have already considered that you might say no,” he was saying. “If you do, that’s your right. It will just make the funeral more crowded.”
“We’re going,” Blackjack said, cutting him off. “We’ll mobilize and take a look.”
“Good,” Roman said. The word wasn’t warm.
Just satisfied. “You’ll take the boardwalk in from the beach side.
Fewer eyes that way. The construction site has two active entrances right now.
One on the street side for deliveries. One accessed from the boards.
My wife would have insisted on using the boardwalk door. She likes the view.”
“Any of your men still on the outer perimeter?” Blackjack asked. “Anybody we might run into that isn’t tied up in there or face-down already?”
“Two were posted a block down from the street entrance in a car,” Roman said.
“I’ve tried them. No answer. Either they’re smart enough not to pick up while someone’s pointing a gun at their head, or they’re already part of the décor.
” A pause. “I will not be sending additional men in your wake. Not unless you call me and tell me you want the building to come down.”
“You doing us a favor, or just afraid your boys might shoot us by accident?” 8-Ball asked.
“Both,” Roman replied. “You’ll go in clean. Anyone you see inside who isn’t recognizable isn’t mine. You’ll know my men. They all dress the same way. Understood?”
“Yeah,” Blackjack said. “Understood.”
“Then go,” Roman said. “Find them. Call me when you have something that isn’t guesswork.”
The line clicked dead.
Blackjack stared at the phone for a few seconds longer, then set it back down like it was something that might bite if he moved too fast.
“All right,” he said. “Dangers and constraints, let’s dance.”
“Nobody inside is guaranteed friendly,” I said. “Even if they’re wearing similar clothing. If Vladimir’s in there, he’s had time to seed people. We don’t know who to trust once we get in there.”
“And we still don’t know how to tell Roman’s ghosts from Tesauro’s,” Jersey added.
“If some of his men did manage to hide or hole up, they’re not exactly going to be standing under a sign that says ‘don’t shoot me, I’m on your side.
’ Sure, he says they’ll be recognizable.
But there’s still that chance they’ve swapped clothing or allegiances altogether. ”
“Roman basically just told us he doesn’t give a shit if a few of his soldiers get caught in the crossfire,” Snake Eyes said. “He wants his wife and kid back. Everything else is negotiable.”
“He’s not going to lose sleep over it,” Blackjack agreed.
“I am.” His gaze swept the room, lingered for half a second on Miami, then on me.
“I’m not planning a second funeral this week for one of ours.
If a Giorlando goes down in there because he popped up at the wrong moment, Roman can add that to his list when he starts tearing his family tree apart.
My end goal is every one of you walking back through that gate under your own power. ”
“Or crutch,” Miami muttered.
“Which brings us to you,” Blackjack said, shifting his attention fully to him. “I need you on the cameras.”
Miami’s mouth opened like he was about to start the same argument he’d had earlier. Then he closed it again. Whatever fight he’d had left for that got swallowed by the words Roman had just dropped into the room.
“What do we have access to?” he asked instead. Voice steady. Business.
“Roman’s tech guy will patch a feed through for you,” Blackjack said.
“I don’t know if we’ll have access to the construction site, but we can see the surrounding areas.
You’ll have eyes we won’t. I want you watching for movement.
Vans rolling up. Extra bodies slipping in.
Anything that smells wrong outside what we already know is wrong. ”
“Copy that,” Miami said.
Quinn squeezed his shoulder, relief and worry all tangled in the way her fingers dug in.
“Snake Eyes,” 8-Ball said. “Layout.”
“They’re building a vertical casino with an attached hotel,” Snake Eyes said.
“Street side is all glass and show. Boardwalk side’s more doors, patio space, easy access for the drunk tourists.
Ground level shell is finished. Windows and doors in.
Stacks up maybe fifteen to twenty floors at this point.
Inside’s mostly sheetrock and roughed-in wiring.
Some floors still bare concrete. Some already got walls up but no finish.
No furniture. No fixtures. Lots of empty space to get lost in or ambushed. ”
“And sound’s going to travel weird,” I added. “Hard surfaces. Long halls. You’ll hear something but not where it’s coming from until it’s right on top of you.”
“Stealth,” Snake Eyes said. “No disguises. No trying to look like anyone. Roman’s men will recognize us and let us pass if any of them are still breathing. Anyone else who doesn’t? They’ll show themselves by being confused. Or hostile. Either way, that tells you who they are.”
“Small teams,” Blackjack said. “We don’t need a parade.
We need eyes and guns that know where to point.
Jersey, you’re point. Valkyrie, you’re glued to his side.
Snake Eyes, Spade, Turnpike, and Priest. That’s your run too.
First wave. Myself, 8-Ball, Voodoo, Jabs and Ace on standby as second wave if you call and say the place is crawling.
That will leave Miami, Mirage, Roadkill, Jackal, and Badger here to hold the fort down.
” Blackjack then looked at me. “I’ll call Liberty shortly to give her an update on the situation. ”
I nodded, feeling my heart rate notch up into familiar territory. Jersey’s gaze flicked to mine, a quick, sharp connection. A silent we’re really doing this? followed by a silent yeah.
“Roman’s tech guy gets us the feed in five,” Blackjack said checking his phone to see a text. “Miami, you go park your ass in the camera room and pretend you’re playing a very morbid video game. Pull anyone you need to help you interpret what you’re seeing.”
Miami pushed himself up, Quinn bracing his arm.
“Got it,” he said. “If I see a parade of suits or serpents, I’ll let you know.”
Blackjack’s expression hardened. “Listen up,” he said, raising his voice enough that there was no mistaking the shift. “This isn’t a rescue mission in a Hallmark movie. This is a war movie. Trust your gut. It’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”
A little smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. Liberty’s voice echoed in that phrasing. Better to apologize than ask for permission. Always.
“With that being said,” Blackjack went on, “you shoot first, ask questions later. Anybody points a gun at you, you don’t pause to see whose name is stitched on their fucking underwear.
Nobody moves alone. Everybody keeps talking.
You see something off, you say it. Loud.
You watch each other’s backs. You don’t play hero.
You get an opportunity to take Vladimir’s legs out from under him, you do it—but not at the cost of one of our own. Clear?”
A chorus of low affirmatives rolled through the room.
I reached for the key at my throat again, thumb pressing into the metal hard enough to hurt. It grounded me.
“Then let’s go,” Blackjack said.
***
Gearing up is its own kind of ritual.
Back in the main room, the atmosphere had shifted.
Less lounging. More loading. Men moved with purpose instead of killing time.
Pistols checked and holstered. Shotguns racked.
Extra mags slid into cuts when possible.
The metallic clicks and snaps had a cadence I could’ve walked to with my eyes closed.
I headed for the side table where we’d started keeping shared gear. Jersey reached for the same box of extra mags at the same time I did.
Our fingers brushed.
It shouldn’t have felt like anything. I’d been covered in other people’s blood with this man. I’d bled with him. Cried into his shirt in a shower that felt like it belonged in somebody else’s life.
Still, something tightened low in my chest at the contact.
I pulled my hand back half an inch. He didn’t move away. Just held the box up so I could grab what I needed first, before him.
“Ready for a field trip?” he asked.
“You say that like we’re going to a museum,” I said.
“Maybe we are,” he said.
“Let’s make sure it doesn’t double as our mausoleum.”
He studied my face for half a second. “We’ll walk out,” he said.
“Confident.”
“Stubborn,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Miami crutched past us toward the little room off the hallway where they’d set up a bigger monitor and Blackjack’s laptop for camera duty. Quinn stayed glued to his side, hand on his back.
“Miami,” I called.
He glanced back.
“Stay vigilant.”
“I will,” he said. “And stay breathing. Somebody’s got to make sure Jersey doesn’t get lost in the pretty lights.”