Greer pulls up behindus, in front of our apartment building. He has a scowl on his face and approaches looking like he’s about to kick something.
“I didn’t do it,” I say automatically.
He scrunches up his face in angry confusion. “Do what?”
“Someone eat your Snickers or something? It wasn’t me this time.”
“This time?”
“I mean it wasn’t me. At all. Ever. I wouldn’t do that; stop looking at me like that.” I wait till he goes first because I don’t want him at my back in this mood. I don’t trust him not to put a “kick me” sign on it. Or forego the sign and just kick me. He’s efficient like that.
“Hunter called and said that he’s got another case for us. Remember when we only had two each, maximum?” Greer grumbles, shoving his thumb into the elevator button harderthan necessary. Then a second time, for good measure. “Are the criminals multiplying or something? Fuck, they irritate me.”
“Ah, the good old days. What’s it this time?”
“It’s connected to the kidnappings Six and I have been working on for too fucking long. Once I find these assholes, I’m going to leave pieces of them floating in the Parramatta. Cauterise the wounds so they have to watch their own fucking limbs bobbing in the water before I kill them.”
“Brutal, but effective. If you need help carrying body parts, I can help you out.”
“How generous of you.”
“I am supergenerous and offended you would think otherwise.”
Kendrick snorts quietly and then drags me backward and into his arms. “When did Six say he was getting here?”
“No idea.” Greer uses his arm to stop the elevator door closing so we can get out at our own pace. “He had to pick something up for his brother, and then he was heading here. If he’s late, it just means more for me.”
“Yeah, that won’t backfire at all.”
“When it comes to beef bourguignon, it’s each man for himself.” He fishes out a set of keys that has the whole teams’ sets on it and unlocks the door. “Also, that pistachio ice cream you make.”
I make a face because as much as I love Kendrick’s food, I draw the line at pistachioanything. They especially don’t belong in dessert. Or on Earth. In existence. “It’s nice to know where your loyalty ends.”
“Isn’t it?” He turns to give me a grin, and I freeze, something behind him catching my attention. Everything slows down, and I go to pull out my gun, but it’s too late.
“There’s no need for that, gentlemen,” the man says, his own handgun pointed right at us. He stands from the dining chair where he’s obviously been waiting a while for us.
He’s too far away to disarm him without the risk of one of us getting shot. “Come inside and shut the door. Anyone tries to run, and I’ll shoot them in the back. It’s been so long since I’ve had a fun target; don’t tempt me.”
I have no doubt I’m looking into the face of Jack Ferguson. He’s scragglier than his pictures, beard longer and unbrushed. Wild eyes, like a man with nothing left to lose.
“Everyone in, now.”
Kendrick’s hand brushes my hip, and I step closer to him. Jack marks every one of our moves. I have to remember that he’s trained. And he’s big. Bigger than his picture suggests.
“Step away from each other. Any contact and I’ll shoot.”
I exchange a glance with Kendrick. I can’t risk him, not again. We’re all armed, and there’s not a damn fucking thing we can do while he’s aiming at us. But there are three of us and only one of him. No matter how good he is, the second his attention lapses, I’m going to kill him.
“Take your guns out, slowly, and slide them across the floor. Over there, out of reach.” He gestures to our left. “Make sure you get as far as the coffee table, or I shoot.”
A muscle in Greer’s jaw twitches in rage, but we all do as we’re told. I’m not even carrying an extra right now. Just a blade strapped to my ankle. Despite how dangerous our jobs are, one weapon generally gets the job done. We don’t work out in the open, not like this. Getting caught with our pants down like this is fucking embarrassing.
“Did you have to sit on the furniture?” I say with a grimace after my gun lands right next to Kendrick’s. “Now I’m gonna have to burn everything. It’s such a pain in the ass to lug chairs into that elevator, you know?”
Kendrick sends me a sharp look that I ignore. I want this guy’s attention on me. Kendrick is getting out of this unscathed, no matter what I have to do.
Jack smirks, not perturbed in the least. There goes the idea of getting him mad enough to make a mistake. He’s ex-Special Forces, and he’ll stay calm under pressure. Calculating. Patient. Too many traits I don’t value in a guy that wants to put a bullet between our eyes. It’s only appreciated when they’re on our side.
