Max and Mitch groan at the repeating conversation.
Harvey is their reliable tech wizard, but much to his word, his driving skills are on another level. He knows the backstreets, hiding places and shortcuts like the back of his hand. He leads them in and out of tight spots without a sound or alarm being set off—their constant eyes and ears while they’re on the field.
But like Mitch, he’s always talking nonsense.
“Alright, focus,” Christian pulls them together with a single firm command and within seconds, the atmosphere changes. Until four trained killers are all waiting for their leader’s order, filling the van with a cold almost sharp enough to cut.
“Are we ready to go?” Christian questions.
“We’re ready to go,” the team choruses firmly and Christian looks over his team one last time, meeting each of their eyes. When all he can see is the excitement and bloodlust staring back at him, he nods, satisfied.
“Don’t assume you’re safe because you’re in the van, Harv.” Christian gives his last instruction to the man he leaves behind. “Your focus is on the screens but stay aware of your surroundings.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re moving.” The moment Christian gives the order they’re in motion,like practiced clockwork.
Four men and a quiet black cat stealing through the night.
Christian treads further into the house on light feet. It’s insanely huge, but maybe that’s expected of a man like Geoffrey Nash. He’d been an accredited soldier for the main family before moving out of Seattle to settle here in Portland.
The Taigas had trusted him for many years and never bothered to look into him when they realized someone was skimming from the top, the barest traces of their money going up in smoke every year. It’d been the work of a ghost. No leads, no explanations, just dead ends and broken trails. Until suddenly there was a gaping hole where money was supposed to be; the snake was getting bolder, taking more and more.
Then one day, an anonymous call pointed all the fingers at Geoffrey Nash.
The Taigas had missed a snake in their own bed, high up in their ranks. It was a humiliating revelation for what was supposedly the state’s ruling crime family, which is why Christian and his team were sent out to deal with it quickly.
With a controlled breath, Christian darts out from the shadows of the hallway and towards one of the guards. With Harvey’s help, getting onto the grounds and into the house was easy. A simple trick with the video feed and no one on the inside would notice any changes. Christian snaps the guard’s neck, and Mitch drags his dagger along the other’s throat before he can make a sound.
If they can kill this traitor and recover the stolen funds, not only will they get the main family’s attention, they’ll have earned their seats closest to the Taiga clan.
Granted, they love their Boss and all—Dahlia Taiga is a force to be reckoned with on this side of the state—
But Reuben Taiga…
His team is supposedly the best in Seattle.
The thought makes Christian smile to himself.
Because he can’t wait to see exactly which team is better.
Everett and Mitch should be going through the back with their silencers, so Christian nods to Max once and the two of them split up, with Mitch taking the ground floor and any other guards, while he heads up the stairs, towards Nash’s room.
The house is dark and quiet, the silence made only more unnatural by the ticking of the antique clock at the end of the hall, and it makes Christian pause.
His pulse is loud in his ears, louder than it should be, and there’s a vague sense of apprehension tickling his senses.
He’s snuck into more than a handful of houses like this one.
And not once has it ever felt like this.
But Harvey made it clear Nash was here—he should be on the cameras right now, holed up in his room with his favourite cognac after coming home from golf with some of his old connections.
But still, there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as he treads further into the house.
One that drops to the tips of his toes when he opens Nash’s door.
Empty.
