The drone whines overhead, our commander glances up at the sky, then slams the doors shut. “Drop when ready, Gabe, and try not to kill anyone.”
“Copy that. Frag out.” At Hands’ warning, we cover our ears, and the subsequent booms rattle our molars. When it quiets, I crack open the doors.
Shit.A few feet away, men crawl out of overturned vehicles and grab their guns.
Head to my chest, I shout to our driver in the cab, and brace. “Floor it, Jack.”
“Woo hoo! Nothing like a good old-fashioned explosion.” Back in New York, our drone pilot’s celebration is short-lived. “Oh fuck. You’ve got three new tangos, closing in fast.”
“Quick. Stack more crates.” Slate shoves at Suds but my friend doesn’t move.
After waving a hand in front of his eyes, I lead him to Rose. The fucking grenades triggered his PTSD. No time for charades, I push the top of her head down, but the whack-a-mole pops up, grabs my arm, and opens her hands.
Pointing to the back door, I mime a guy with a machine gun. She looks confused for a moment, then types on Slate’s smart-book.
It’s Vinny’s men.
What the fuck? She’s double-crossed her ex, as well?Dipping my head, I speak into the comm to inform the rest. “Rose says they’re Vitale’s thugs.”
Damn. She used us to get rid of Stephano which paved the way for her Brooklyn mobster to steal back the fentanyl he sold to the cartel. It’s a brilliant plan. Too bad none of us will live to tell the tale.
Lucky whistles through his teeth and shakes his head. “We should ask Sam to work her magic. She can explain the situation to the Feddies.”
“Too late.” Our leader paces the small dark space. “No way Vitale will let us drive off alive.”
My solution is much simpler. “How about we pull to the curb and blow the motherfucking load to kingdom come?”
“Ace, mate!” As the Australian pounds me on the back, Suds returns to earth, shakes out the cobwebs, and shoots me two thumbs up.
“You copy, Jack?” I shouldn’t’ve worried.
“On it.” He guns the engine and we’re thrown, jerking side to side.
While we brace like a bunch of pirates on rough seas, Hands speaks from the crow’s nest. “You’ve got trees close to the road, a half klick ahead.”
Hanging onto the door handle, Slate struggles to pull a package of white clay from his vest. “I’ll detonate the fuel tank. Lucky and Suds, you provide cover. Wheels, get Rose clear.”
After a chorus of affirmatives, I grab my former girlfriend’s hand and lead her to the back where the rest crouch, ready to go.
While we squat, she tugs on my shirt and opens her hands in a gesture of confusion.
Damn, I’ve only seconds to explain. Then, with a flash of divine insight, I finger-puppet Little Bunny Foo-Foo running into the forest.
A quick nod tells me she understands. Biting her lower lip, she clamps onto my wrist as the eighteen-wheeler slows to a stop. We push and the doors clang against the sides. First to jump, I turn, grab her waist, and set her down.
“Go, go, go.” I run like hell for the trees and when bullets spray the dirt in the grass buffer zone, I scoop her into my arms.
At the metal fence, I help her climb and push her ass over. With her hiding behind a thick trunk, I drop to my belly and shoot at the men coming for Slate. He needs a couple more seconds to slap C4 on the truck’s underbelly.
“Move it.” With military precision, our guys create a line.
One fires, one drops back, then the other takes his place.
Thinking they won, Vitale’s mercenaries inch forward. The brightest of the lot inspects where Slate placed the explosive.
When he spots the white clay, he starts running and shouts. “Bomb!”
Vaulting the fence, I push Rose to the ground, and roll on top. A moment later, a huge boom rocks the ground followed by a searing blast of hot air. On the side of the road, enormous flames devour the truck along with the closest SUV.
