DAMIAN
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Celeste tells me as we edge along the darkness of the building.
“We just need to see for sure, then we get the fuck out,” I whisper.
She nods.
We’re both decked out in black, including a beanie and gloves.
Where I’m wearing jeans, she’s wearing leggings, and, holy fuck, do they fit her well. I need to divert my attention, or I’ll be walking around with a fucking hard on.
A vehicle approaches around the corner of the building, I stop moving, and put an arm in front of Celeste to stop her, too.
We flatten ourselves against the building, our guns at the ready.
The car lights turn off, and a car door slams.
Muted voices carry on the wind, but we can’t make out the words.
“Looks like the party’s getting started,” I tell her.
She nods. “Let’s find out.”
We inch forward quietly. No security outside—at least on this side. If they’re on top of the warehouse, they won’t be able to see us down here. When we reach the corner of the building, we lean back, then I slowly look around the corner.
“Six cars,” I whisper when I lean back. “No guards.”
“They’re all inside,” she guesses. “I heard someone up top before, too.”
“There’s no way they can see us. We need to get to that window, and we need to make it quick. No telling who’s in there and how long they’re gonna stay.”
Celeste nods. “Camera and gun ready to go.”
“All right. Silent but fast.”
We move through the night, the light on the front of the building illuminating in front of the door and a little to both sides of it, not far enough to catch us.
We get to the window, and I get a good look.
“Fuck.”
Celeste doesn’t pay any attention to me. Her camera is clicking like mad.
“Gotta go,” I whisper, seeing a couple of the guys stand up, looking like they’re ready to head out.
She tucks her camera inside her shirt and holds her gun the same way I hold mine. She should. We learned together.
We make it around the side of the building just as the door opens.
“They’re fucking with the Russos,” one of the dude’s says.
The other takes a drag of his cigarette and blows out the smoke. “I’m not so sure I want to get wrapped up in that. I know Mick won’t.”
“Will Murphy force his hand?” the first guy asks.
“He’s not strong enough for that, and no one’s stupid enough to fuck with Mick Duffy.”
“Not unless they’ve got a death wish.”
