“Good,” Stryker said. “Let’s get this job done.”
The four men slid comm devices into their ears and left out the secret back door inside Travesty, down the fire escape, and into the waiting vehicle. Brooks always drove, stayed in the vehicle, and was tasked with ensuring each man got out, dead or alive.
The men had spent the last two hours in The Dungeon’s Travesty room reviewing every detail surrounding the attack. Before they could get to the leader, they’d have to take out his guards and closest allies.
Riding shotgun, Stryker pulled up the surveillance cams pointed at the target home in a Maryland suburb, north of the beltway. Months back, Rhys had donned a utility jacket and made a few house calls in the neighborhood. He managed to leave behind six small cameras so Stryker could track the gang’s activity.
“The house is owned by an uncle of one of the members,” Stryker said. “Word is that he got sick and the nephew moved in to help. They took over the house and the uncle was never seen again.”
“So, we might find a decomposing body,” Rhys said. “You know I hate that.”
“That’s why you’re getting a head’s up,” Stryker replied.
Additionally, several women lived in the home. Because they never left, Stryker didn’t know if they were prisoners. No problem. Once Stryker and his team were out, ALPHA operatives would swoop in and handle the rest.
ALPHA, a top-secret government organization buried deep within the Department of Justice, was focused on catching or eliminating the country’s most dangerous criminals.
The men rode in silence. Now wasn’t the time for idle conversation. As Stryker mentally prepared, he flipped from one surveillance camera to the next. Their destination street was quiet. Adrenaline coursed through him, his heart pumping out eighty-three beats a minute. Twenty beats faster than normal, but the rush from the mission kept him sharp.
Brooks pulled into a neighboring street, cut the lights, and killed the engine.
“Where are the ALPHA ops?” Stryker asked Sin.
“Twenty-three minutes out,” Sin replied. “If this goes right, we’ll be gone by then.”
Brooks set his Glock on his thigh as the other three strapped on their night goggles. Stryker pulled out his phone and tapped the IDware app. A miniature screen inside their night goggles displayed a green light next to his IDware icon.
“Software on,” Stryker said to his team.
“Got it,” Sin said.
“Ditto,” Brooks replied.
“Nope,” Rhys said. “Nothing for me.”
Dammit. Stryker opened the back of the SUV and fished out a pair of goggles. “Try these, but keep your head down.”
Rhys replaced the goggles. “This works.”
Stryker closed the back hatch and slipped on his leather gloves. Down the street, a dog started barking. The balmy evening air meant perfect sleeping weather, and the neighbor with the dog had left windows open. The damn dog had heard them.
“Move the vehicle,” Stryker said to Brooks.
“Good luck,” Brooks said as the men took off down the street.
With weapons in hand, they crossed the street, heading toward the house at the end of the court.
As soon as it was in sight, Rhys murmured, “Moving into position.” He split off, jogging between two homes, heading for the back of the property.
“It’s you and me, brother,” Stryker said.
“Always is,” Sin replied.
“I’ve got eyes on one of the guards,” Rhys said. “He’s sitting on the steps leading to the back door.” After a brief silence, Rhys said, “He’s down.”
Stryker and Sin approached the dark two-story home. A first-floor window was open. They peered inside. Two men were watching TV in the living room. “That’s him,” Stryker murmured. “That’s Rowdy.”
“The other is his personal bodyguard,” Sin murmured. “We’ve gotta get past them, take out the others, kill Rowdy’s guard, then deal with him.”
