Though I'm sure he's used to working alone with what he does for Koen.
I have a feeling the reason Koen's remained safe over the years is the man sitting beside me, and it makes something settle in my chest before Koen turns a corner and another guard lifts his weapon.
Without hesitation, Koen lifts his weapon and shoots three times, the shots reverberating through my soul and reminding me who he is.
The guard falls.
Instead of continuing forward, Koen crouches, checks the dead man’s pockets for anything he can find, takes what looks to be a phone from the night vision camera, and stuffs it in his pocket.
"Chase, come in," another voice says over a radio I hadn’t noticed to Chase’s right.
"Go for Chase," Chase answers.
"I have a heat signature on the roof. Should I engage?" Brian asks.
"Heat signature. Roof. Do you want the target eliminated?" Chase asks Koen.
"No. If it's Helms, we need the girl's location before we make a move on him. Get me to the roof."
"Got it." Chase keys the mic on the radio. "Keep your eyes on the target, but do not engage.”
“10-4."
They're precise and planned.
They've done this before.
"Brian was in the service with you two, wasn't he?" I whisper.
Chase flicks his eyes toward me, giving me a stiff nod.
Chase walks Koen through how to reach the roof using the run-down building’s plans, and the entire time, I'm on edge.
He kills four more guards and takes their phones and IDs.
By the time he gets to the roof, there's a gnawing feeling in my stomach.
"It's not right. It feels staged," I tell Chase, gripping his arm tightly.
His gaze travels between the monitors and me.
"Sorry. I'll shut up."
"No. Intuition is a big thing in this line of work, and women have a keen sense of it. Never keep that shit to yourself."
"This might be a trap, K. Stay alert," Chase tells Koen, but the moment he steps out of the door onto the room, at least twenty men stand from where they'd been crouching down before, hidden from Brian's view on the ground.
"Drop your weapon!" one of them shouts, and Helms smirks.
"Finally, Koen Grady, on my turf. Now, we play by my rules," Helms says, and my heart nearly stops.
Koen steps closer to Helms, still holding the gun ready to shoot before him, fearless in how he approaches the man.
Then, the coms go dead, and the picture goes blank.
"What happened?" I gasp, standing.
The sound of the chair sliding back into something doesn't deter me from grabbing Chase's keyboard. "Get him back!"
