That’s enough.
I pull out my phone and hit Ghost, the club enforcer.
He answers on the first ring.
“Yeah.”
“Black Pines. Service cabin off the back road. Five outside. Maybe more in.”
A beat.
Then, “How close are you?”
I keep my eyes on her. One of the guards jerks her hard enough to make her stumble again.
“Close enough.”
Another beat.
“Wait for back-up.”
I look at the cabin door. At the bastard with his hand locked around her arm. At the way she can barely keep her feet under her.
“Can’t.”
Silence.
Then Ghost, flat and steady.
“Go.”
I end the call and pocket the phone.
No more talking.
No more waiting.
Just work.
I move through the trees without sound, keeping low, using the dark and the pines for cover. One man by the van. One at the cabin door. Two smoking near the front SUV, lazy because they think they own the night.
They do not.
The first one goes down quiet.
I come up behind the smoker nearest the trees, lock an arm around his throat, and drag him back into the dark. One hard twist. One wet crack. He drops before the cigarette hits the ground.
The second one hears just enough to turn.
My knife goes in under his ribs.
He folds.
Still quiet.
Still clean.
At the cabin door, one of the guards shoves her inside.
