Chapter Fourteen

 

RYAN

 

The job was already going to be tough, and I already knew what a challenge it was going to be. That was before, of course, we had two cops on the team.

Then again, I put them there. It's a risk, and a big one, but I'm willing to take that chance. Especially if it means I can get a good view of what they've got.

Putting Davis with Spider is going to be interesting as well. I don't think she realizes that I know—not yet, anyway. Nothing can stay a secret forever, but I can keep it a secret as long as possible, anyway.

One of them is no-doubt going to try to pass a message to the other. When they do, I just have to intercept it. Then, we'll see what we have to do next. What kind of tools they give us to work with, so to speak.

I take a deep breath. No problem. I can handle this, and I had God damn well better handle it, or things are about to go completely sideways.

The one thing I know for sure, as I strap the gun onto my hip and look up into the mirror: I'm not going back to prison. There's no chance of hell that I do that.

Davis's gone, but she'll be back. She'd better be back, or things are going to get ugly between us. Then again, things were already going to get ugly between us. The only question is when.

I get onto the Indian, ear-phones in my ears, and wait a minute. Just in case she's planning to come by the house. The sick, twisting feeling in my stomach hits me before every job. I don't mind the risk, but I can't stand the way it hits me.

Then the guitar kicks in and the drum hits hard and I kick the Indian to life beneath me. Its engine roars out, but I can barely hear it through my music. I roll onto the road and head into the part of town where people put things that aren't supposed to be found.

The industrial district is where we do almost all of our business, legal or not. Our business or not, for that matter.

That does little to change the fact of the matter. The place is empty. Always is. Logan pulls in behind me as I turn into the area. I pull my hand off to wave. Spider pulls up next, then Rob Green. Davis's nowhere to be seen, but then again she's not riding a bike, so it might be a little weird for her to be right there alongside us.

I see her car the second we pull into the lot. She looks like a tourist, sitting there. She's got her phone out, jabbing away at it, looking confused. It's a better cover than most, I have to admit.

She looks up as we pull into the lot, and for a moment I wonder if the look that passes between her and Spider has any significance. Anything other than recognition, anyways.

It doesn't. Couldn't be. But they're acknowledging each other, which is something by itself.

She pulls out of the car. She's dressed light, which is probably for the best. I don't miss the blocky shape of the gun that's on her hip, hidden as it is by her jacket.

No words are spoken. They might give us away, and as quiet and dead as the place looks now, it's not empty. They've already heard us coming, and they know we're not whoever they're expecting.

We'd have pulled around back, if we were. I wave for them to follow, pulling my gun free, and I check the front door. Locked. I wave Rob Green over, and he opens it. Quick as can be.

The door's heavy. I make sure to hold it while the others file in. The whole place is dark. I close the door real slow-like. It would have slammed behind me if I wasn't careful. Good thing.

I motion them forward, keeping a close eye on Spider. Davis follows close by, at my elbow, her weapon drawn and pointed down.

I see the first Crazy Horse a split-second after Logan does, and he's down after a shot fires out, my ears ringing even through the earphones that serve as ear-protection.

He drops to the ground. If they didn't know we were here, they definitely do now. They've abandoned any attempt at keeping quiet, instead opting to cry out to each other, signal where they are.

It doesn't take them long to figure which guy is dead, and I know they're not going to take much longer after that to start converging on our location.

The guy's got an automatic. I hold it up to show everyone. Everyone knows what it means. They hunch down behind cover. I hand the sub-machine gun to Logan. His kill, his gun, I figure.

The place is still dark, and we're still in a shoddily-constructed hallway the cordons off the office area from the main warehouse. Something moves in the dark, and I shoot.

The muzzle flash illuminates the hallway for a long instant, and I can see the guy go down. I'd like that automatic in his hands. Hell, I'd like it if the guys at our own warehouse had automatics like that.

All we can put together is a hodge-podge of whatever the client doesn't want, most of the time. Nothing like the matching gear they've got here. Nothing near as new, either. Not for our personal supply.

I can't afford to go grab it, though. They're going to figure out, and soon, that you need to move in pairs. Well, that's the bare minimum, anyway.

If the pair was just a little split, they'd just have to wait once they saw their friend go down, and I'd be an easy target there.

We settle in and wait. Ten seconds turns into sixty. A minute turns into two. They're waiting for us, and we're waiting for them.

Whoever is on the move has a disadvantage. The ones hiding will have cover, they'll be able to see the other side.

I don't like having to be the ones to make the first move, but the alternative is to wait for the cavalry to arrive, and that's not going to happen. No chance in hell.

I start moving first, and the others follow behind. Right before I get past the corner, I look back at the group. Davis's still with us. After the first two went down she seems to have cooled it a little.

I grab the guy's ankle, pull him back towards me. The MP-5 in his arms comes with him, and I pick it up. I check the safety, check it's loaded. I already have it pointed into the darkness when I step around the corner.

A shot rings out, thuds into my chest. I go down hard, the pain exploding through me in spite of the bullet-proof vest I'm wearing. I press the trigger of the automatic in my hands and it jerks alive, spraying three shots in the direction where the first bullet had come from.

I can't hear the body hit the floor, but I see a crumpled heap of guy, sitting there in the darkness.

Rob Green grabs me, pulls me back, just in time to see someone else moving to take the guy's place. A shot rings out, but I'm free of the wall now, and the shots smack into the thin plywood walls instead.

I take a deep breath. I don't know how many are left, but I know it's at least one, and I know we've got to get this over with, and fast.