Twenty One #2
“Already on it,” Miami said. His tone shifted, sharpened.
“Okay. Listen up. Street side first—two black SUVs parked a half a block down from the loading dock entrance. Four guys in suits smoking near the rear entrance. That van that disappeared from earlier? It’s back, closer this time.
Right by the service gate. I’m counting at least nine heat signatures clustered around ground level over there.
Pretty sure they’re a Vincino and cartel mix. I also see two Serpent cuts too.”
“And inside?” I asked.
There was a pause. I could picture him leaning in toward the monitor, his face lit ghostly by the security feeds blue glow.
“First big lobby is clear," he said. "No movement. Just dust and whatever you’re breathing in up there. Second level mezzanine, also clear. But… stair cam on fifteen just picked something up.”
That made every nerve I had stand on end.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“Vladimir,” Miami said. “Tall, beard, stupid expensive looking overcoat. He’s got four guys with him—two suits, one Serpent, one cartel. And he’s got two women.”
My jaw tightened.
“Details,” I demanded.
“It’s Romans wife and daughter, zero doubts,” Miami said.
“Condition?” Valkyrie asked, voice clipped.
“No visible blood on them,” Miami said. “Hands bound in front with zip ties. No gags. They’re walking, not being dragged.
Vlad’s got his hand on the wife’s arm. Serpents on the daughter’s shoulder.
They’re heading into what looks to be a service corridor…
hold on. An elevator. They’re bundling them into a service elevator. ”
“Which one?” Blackjack asked.
“Service one on the north side,” Miami said at once. He was in his element now. You could hear it. “Not the main guest elevators. These are behind the walls. It runs from the basement to level fifteen with access to a back hallway just behind the main lobby on ground level.”
“So, they’re coming down,” I said.
“Yeah,” Miami said. “You’re on twelve. They’re three up. I see the doors closing… There. Elevator’s moving. Down. Fast. They’re bypassing stops. Headed straight for ground level probably.”
“Probably want an easy exit,” Spade said. “Probably headed for those black SUVs on the street side who will move up once they’re brought down.”
“Jersey,” Blackjack’s voice crackled in through a second channel. “We’re in position on the street side. We’re stacked up and can jump on those SUVs if they get close. We can stop them from getting in. Force them back inside the building.”
I looked at Spade and then Snake Eyes.
“If you can force them back inside, and we can get down in time, we could cut them off on the boardwalk side.” I thought more about this for a second. “Miami. Is there a service elevator on the south side too?”
I heard static, then Miami’s voice. “Yes. Down the hall from the security office.”
“Let’s act fast then. Jersey,” Blackjack said.
“You and Valkyrie take off. Take the other service elevator down to the lobby and intercept that elevator if possible. If you can’t and they head to the back, we can cut them off.
We’ll take this side. Miami,” Blackjack took a breath.
“Keep on the cameras. Direct us to what you see. If you see them headed boardwalk side, let us know. We have to stop them before they get into a vehicle. If they leave, the entire strategy of this war shifts. If there’s a chance we can get the wife and daughter clear before this turns into a circus, we need to do it. ”
Valkyrie looked at me. The look in her eyes probably matched mine.
“Move fast,” Blackjack said. “Snake Eyes, Priest—you stay there and babysit the ops room. Keep Miami’s feed running. Spade, Turnpike, keep moving up and clear the rest of the building. We don’t want any surprises coming down on our heads just in case.”
“Copy,” Snake Eyes said.
“Got it,” Spade echoed.
Priest just grunted. He’d already started poking through the dead Serpent’s pockets.
My pulse kicked harder.
Two of us. Lobby. Vlad, four armed, and however many more floating around down there.
Miami must’ve felt the weight of it through the line.
“Elevator just passed eleven,” he said. “If you want to meet them when the doors open, you better move your asses now. I’ll guide you. Turn right outside the office. Elevator is just two doors down on the left. It should end up spitting you out at the other end of the service corridor downstairs.”
“On it,” I said.
Valkyrie was already moving.
We cut across the hall, boots sliding slightly on dust. I yanked the door open and peered in. The elevator sat right in front of us. Work lights hanging on cables above us spilled harsh illuminations.
“Miami,” I said. Don’t fail us now or I’m cutting your other leg off,” I muttered, starting forward.
He laughed. “Love you too, sweetheart.”
We ran to it. The doors opened quickly. My fingers pressed the close door and ground floor button even faster. A second passed before the doors responded, closed, the elevator shifted, and we started down.
Eleven.
Ten,
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
“Their elevator’s about to pass two,” Miami said. You’ve got one advantage—they don’t know you’re right on their tail.”
We hit three.
“They’re at ground.”
“Son of a bitch,” I breathed.
My heart pounded. Sweat slicked the back of my neck.
My eyes were focused on the doors. As soon as the chime rang out and I saw them begin to open, we burst out.
The hallway was narrower here, walls already covered in drywall and primer, parts of the ceiling still open. Rolls of carpet leaned in clusters. A stack of boxed light fixtures sat near a corner. Nobody else was in sight. I remembered us clearing this earlier.
“There,” Valkyrie said, spotting a door that had to lead back to the lobby.
When we reached the door, we heard voices on the other side.
Voices and muffled footsteps. A woman’s sharp inhalation. A man’s low command.
“Ready?” I mouthed to Valkyrie.
She nodded once.
I carefully opened the door and we entered the lobby.
The space looked different from when we first came in. Same tall columns, same unfinished floor, same huge run of glass facing the boardwalk. But instead of just dust and abandoned tools, there were people here now.
Vladimir stood near the middle of the room with Roman’s wife and daughter flanking him like props.
His coat was dark and long, open over a dress shirt and vest. He held a pistol in his right hand, the barrel pointed casually at the floor, like he thought pointing it at someone would be gauche. His left hand rested on Roman’s wife’s arm.
She was pale, eyes wide, breathing too fast. The zip ties on her wrists cut into the skin above the pearl bracelet she still wore.
Gianna stood on his other side.
Dark hair loose around her shoulders. Black jeans. Boots with heels made for wine tastings, not sprints. And a leather jacket that looked too heavy for someone her size, or for the occasion.
Her hands were bound in front of her too. But her shoulders were back. Her eyes were sharp, scanning the room. Taking in exits and angles.
Four men clustered in a loose arc around them.
Two in tailored dark suits, their jackets open over shoulder holsters. One wore a Steel Serpent cut, his hand with a pistol in it. And one Bolivar member with a tattooed throat, shotgun resting across his palms like he thought it made him invincible.
We had maybe a second or two of grace while their attention was off us.
“On you,” Valkyrie whispered.
I stepped out from behind one of the front desks.
“Don’t,” I called, voice cracking across the space like a whip.
All seven heads spun.
I didn’t aim at Vladimir.
I aimed at the Serpent first.
He was the one who would react the fastest, trained for chaos. He died before he got his gun half up, the round punching through his sternum and knocking him backwards onto polished concrete.
Valkyrie’s shot took one of the suits in the forehead.
The other two moved—one toward cover, one bringing his weapon up. Vlad jerked Roman’s wife in front of him, half-using her as a shield.
Gianna stepped sideways, away from him, into a gap between two columns. It was small, but it spoke volumes. She knew cover amidst chaos.
“Guns down!” I shouted. “Now!”
The remaining suit dropped behind the front desk half-wall on the other side, firing blindly toward us. The shotgun guy swung his weapon around, pellets blasting chips out of the column I dove behind.
Valkyrie slid in beside me, her shoulder hitting mine.
“Miami,” I said, low. “What’s street side look like?”
“Still got a cluster of suits and cartel boys by that van,” he said. “They’re keyed up. Some of them just tensed, like they heard something. They haven’t moved yet, but… hang on. One just pointed toward the building. They’re coming in on foot.”
“How many?” Valkyrie asked.
“Nine I can count clean,” Miami said. “Could be more hugging the van. Add to that whoever’s left breathing in that lobby and anyone else they’ve got scattered around.“
“We’re on the move,” Blackjack voice suddenly said.
I mentally counted the rounds I’d just spent, subtracting for the two bodies.
Vladimir stepped out into our line of sight then, dragging Roman’s wife even closer. He still kept her partially between us and his center mass, but he didn’t cower. His eyes were bright. Almost excited.
“Devil’s Aces,” he called out. The accent thickened his words, made them feel oily. “I was told Roman might send dogs. I see he sent his wolves instead.”
“Let her go,” I shouted. I raised my gun, careful to keep my stance wide enough that I could pivot if the cartel member popped around the corner again. “Now!”
“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he said calmly. His pistol came up. Not at us—at the side of Roman’s wife’s ribs. Her breath hitched.
“Pretty sure I am,” I said. “A man like Tesauro isn’t going to be happy if you kill her before he gets to use her. That’s the whole point of this, yeah? To make Roman watch. To get something out of this.”