A shadow shifts on his left.
Anson Blackwood steps out of the dark like a wraith. He doesn’t speak. He just lifts two fingers and points toward the roofline.
Two on overwatch.
I nod and wait for Anson to take position.
Rifle strapped to his back, he sprints across the lot and climbs to the roof of the warehouse next door.
"Ready," he whispers in our earpieces.
The lot is open for twenty feet, but it might as well be fifty. I dart between camera sweeps and reach the side door just as the guard flicks ash off his cigarette. I'm behind him before he registers my presence.
One twist and he drops to the ground.
Bronco exhales through his nose. “Jesus.”He drags the body behind a pallet, then looks at the keypad.
Anson’s voice comes again. "They're down. Go."
“You’re spooky, Blackwood. I didn’t hear a damn thing,” Bronco mutters.
“Copy that,” he replies.
Blackwood uses special kit for his silent shots. Even if he didn’t, he’s the best there is.
With the two on the roof secure, I pull a slim tool from my pocket, crack the panel, and cut the wires. The door clicks open.
Bronco holds his weapon tight and slips inside.
Dumping the tools, I reach for my gun and am right on his tail.
We work our way through the main warehouse.
It’s deadly silent. Like even the rats took the night off. I don’t trust it. One look at Bronco and I know he’s feeling the same prickle of danger that I am. We move up to Roark’s private floor.
It’s quiet. Too quiet, and eerie as hell.
We move down the hall at a fast clip to the heavy door at the end.
I signal to Bronco to hold the hall and slip inside, weapon raised.
Roark sits behind a desk the size of a truck bed, a glass of whiskey near his right hand and a gun near his left. Theoffice smells like leather, money, and men who think they’re untouchable.
I’m here to remind him that he’s not.
He looks up like he’s been waiting.
He smiles. “Well. Look at you.”Roark’s gaze flicks over me.“You should be dead.”
"Surprised?"
"No. You always were my best."
“You tried to retire me and kill her. After you gave me her father’s contract.”
Roark’s smile widens just a fraction, like he’s pleased he found the crack. “Ah.”
He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers like this is business. “I didn’t send men tohurt her.I sent men to clean up loose ends.”
