The anguish in his voice breaks me. Tears gather in my eyes, lending a shimmer to the room. Dad pats the ground twice before the two thugs drag him to another pole twenty feet away, and in under a minute, have his arms bound behind him. Benny retrieves a full bottle of vodka and pours it over my father’s white hair.
I scream at them, begging them to stop, then cursing them and their entire families, but they ignore me.
“Enjoy your last few minutes together,” Rocco says. He strides over to me and rips the tape from my mouth, tearing my wounds open so blood drips down my chin. “So you can say your goodbyes before you burn.”
“Dad!”
He’s shaking, unable to stop the alcohol from dripping into his eyes. “I’m sorry…son,” he says. “I thought I was keeping you safe.”
Benny holds the door open for Rocco, who withdraws a gold case from his pocket, opens it, and lifts a cigarette to his lips. “Arson investigators won’t find shit when this is all over. Except this. Steel. Fireproof. One smoke missing.”
Chuckling, he drops the case, lights up, and flicks the cigarette in an arc toward one of the boxes. The glowing tip flares bright red, and a second later, the box starts to burn.
Raelynn
“Idiot,” West mutters. “We’re sure his comms unit was working?”
I glance at the tablet in front of me. “It’s still green. So it’s transmittin’.”
God, I wish we knew what was goin’ on inside. The concrete walls of the building render our drone’s thermal imaging capabilities useless, but twelve separate readings within a quarter mile are all likely Enzo’s men.
“Angelo,” West says. “What’s going on? Angelo?”
“Somethin’s wrong. We need to get in there. Now.” I hate being this far away. We couldn’t risk driving the van all the way down to the waterfront, so I’m half a mile down the shore road, while Angelo took the sedan—outfitted with a small camera on the dash—and parked less than a hundred feet from the building.
“Too many unknowns.” This, from Ryker. “I’ve got eyes on Enzo and Lincoln. Indigo?”
“In position. Two hostiles on the roof across from me in my sights.”
On screen, two goons slip out the door of the warehouse, laughing. The guy on the left, I recognize from the video calls as the one holding a gun on Nash.
So…does that mean Nash is unguarded?
“Who’s on the idjits who just came out of the target’s location? They ain’t movin’.” I check the monitor again, gripping the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles turn white. Still nothing from Angelo. “Base? If the walls are too thick, could that mess with comms?”
“We’ve tested through eight-inch-thick concrete with only twenty percent degradation,” Wren says. “Searching for the building blueprints—”
Ryker cuts her off. “Fuck this shit. Whiskey, call it.”
“Indigo, take out the hostiles on the roof, then lay down cover fire for Tango so he can hit the two at the target location. Golf, you’ve got the three along First Avenue. Romeo, you’re on Enzo. I’ve got the two at the southeast corner of the fence. Sierra…don’t move until we give you the all clear. Stay low, stay alive. Go, go, go.”
The green blips on the left half of the screen start to move—all but mine and Inara’s. On the right, the two men who were just inside with Nash and Angelo lean against the wall of the building to the west. The asshole with the gun—Wren’s facial recognition program identified him as Benny Montrose—takes a puff on his vape, while the other one checks his phone.
Sharp pops pierce the night air. “Two down,” Inara says quietly. “Tango, on your mark.”
The hostiles—red dots from the drone’s thermals—all move at once. Shots come from every direction. One M4 and at least two pistols.
“Enzo’s rabbiting!” Ry shouts. “I’m going for the sedan. Base, stay on them with the drone as long as you can!”
Shit. This op is goin’ to hell on a rocket, and I’ve got no idea if Nash is still alive. I can’t sit here and do nothin’, even if I did promise West I’d stay in the van.
“Unless it’s the only way to save him.”
The engine rumbles to life, and the tires spin on the gravel shoulder for a split second before I take off, gunning it down the shore road toward the industrial park gate.
“Got a problem!” Inara says, fear threading her tone. “Target’s location is on fire!”
Nash
