A gag gift from the team.
A wink at his Maine roots.
Sabrina’s go-to when she needed comfort.
She liked to rub the claws like worry beads, and he’d tried to gift it to her. But she’d refused. Saying it gave her an excuse to visit him.
As if she ever needed an excuse.
Clutching the stuffed lobster until his knuckles blanched white, he stared at the silly thing and silently promised, I’m comin’, Sabrina. And heaven help the bastards who took ya, ’cause I’m bringin’ hell with me.
16
Old bottling plant west of the city
Gone was the adrenaline-charged clarity that had sharpened Sabrina’s mind when she lunged for Hummer’s throat. Now, only clawing thirst, relentless fatigue, and the stink of death remained.
The big man’s body lay at her feet, spread out like a slab of discarded meat at a butcher shop. His blood was already turning dark and gelatinous as it congealed atop the cracked concrete. And flies drifted in lazy spirals above him, drawn by the sharp tang of rot.
He hadn’t been dead that long. Only a few hours. So why was he already starting to stink?
But she knew why. The heat inside the old building pressed down like a second skin. The ancient bricks held onto humidity the way old bones held onto pain. And the thin veil between what animated a human body and what made it nothing more than a pile of flesh and bone for the maggots and the carrion beetles didn’t stand a chance against those elements.
She turned her head away and tried to breathe through her mouth. But that was worse. The air tasted like rust and mildew mixed with the fetid, coppery echo of a life extinguished.
She’d taken a life.
And it didn’t matter that he’d have happily killed her. It didn’t matter that any right-minded person would say, in a situation like this, it was self-defense. What mattered was that she’d aimed, shoved the shard deep, and then twisted slightly to ensure she did as much damage as possible.
What mattered was that she’d live the rest of her life with the memories of how hot his blood had been when it spilled over her hand. How he’d staggered and bellowed and fallen to his knees. How his throat had gurgled, how his lungs had rattled, how his boots had scrabbled against the concrete as his body fought to hold on to the last vestiges of life.
She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight of the dead man. But behind her lids, the image only sharpened. Dark, bloody pool. Pale, mottled skin. Flies.
She’d have to ask Hew how he did it. How he went on living after knowing he’d been the end of someone else and?—
What am I thinking?
I won’t need to ask Hew how he goes on living because I won’t go on liv?—
“Take your rifle and get to our prearranged spot,” Black Widow’s voice, oddly crisp and cold compared to the stifling air, cut into Sabrina’s thoughts.
Her eyes flew open, and she found the platinum blonde at the far end of the room. Night had fallen some time ago. Now, the only lights inside the space came from the two kerosene lanterns Diesel had lit.
One burned on the table of weapons. The other burned by the entrance to the old office space. They both caused long, trembling shadows to writhe across the cracked floor, crumbling walls, and Hummer’s body until it looked like the man’s restless spirit had stuck around to haunt the place.
“And Vance?” Black Widow barely turned her head toward the man standing at the table full of weapons, arming himself to the teeth. “You sure we sealed everything off? These guys were trained by the best of the best Uncle Sam has to offer. If they can find a back door, they’ll use it.”
“After you make the call, they won’t have time to do much more than a preliminary examination of the site,” Vance replied, tightening straps on his tactical vest. “That’s why we planned it this way. But even if they had all day to do recon, there’s only one way in thanks to those old derelict shipping containers we stacked out front.”
He jabbed a thumb toward the metal cargo door that groaned on its rusting tracks anytime the wind blew. It was frozen open halfway, like it’d been caught mid-scream.
“Once they drop the cash with you,” Vance continued, “they’ll head out the way they came in. And that’s when we’ll light ’em up. Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“It’s never that easy,” Black Widow muttered.
“Kurt’ll take care of any Diesel and I miss. What our boy lacks in height, he makes up for in marksmanship.”
Sabrina’s stomach churned. Her thirst, her exhaustion, the dried blood caking her fingers…all forgotten as she listened to the plan.
