Rebel pushed back the chair, and the metal feet shrieking against the worn, cement floor, as if crying out in pain.
The pain would be real if these fuckers found the wire. They’d make him suffer before they killed him. Despite the situation, Rebel stayed cool. He removed his coat, set it on the table.
“For real boss?” asked one of the guys. “He’s been great to work with. No problems, not even one.”
TL pointed his gun at his own guy. “Do it.”
Britain
Brit’s poundingheart was a major effin’ distraction. She’d been instructed to take out everyone at the table. Leave no one alive. These were drug dealers. Major fentanyl runners wreaking havoc throughout the country. What the hell was Joaquin Dillinger doing there?
He owns a kink club. Is he a drug dealer? Is he moving opioids though his club?
One of the men lifted Rebel’s jacket off the table.
Ohgod. He’s looking for a wire.
She set down the night goggles, peered through the rifle scope, and readied her shot. Despite her fast-beating heart, she held steady.
BANG!
She moved the gun, fired off a second shot.
BANG!
And a third.
BANG!
Operating on muscle memory, she moved the rifle into position. The small spot between Rebel’s eyes now in the center of her crosshairs. She held steady, but she couldn’t fire her weapon.
Despite her orders, she could not take him out.
The room across the street went dark.
Brit snapped to reality. She slid her tripod and rifle into the bag, then her helmet. After shoving all three brass casings into her pocket, she flung her go-bag across her chest. Then, she hightailed it to the fire door. Down the stairs she bolted. Once on the first floor, she hurried outside and around the building.
Movement caught her eye.
Rebel moseyed into view.
Boy, he’s smooth.
Pulling her hoodie over her head, she walked with purpose. No street lights, but the moon provided enough light to make out his moving shadow. That meant he could see her.
“Hey!” he shouted.
She took off running. While she doubted she could outrun him, she might be able to outmaneuver him. She ran up the street and ducked into an alley, then continued pushing hard to the other side. There, she hightailed it to her car, threw her bag in, jumped behind the wheel, and hit the gas.
As she drove away, Rebel darted onto the sidewalk.
They locked eyes as she sped past.
“Ohmygod,” she blurted. “What the hell just happened?”
Now, she was full-on shaking. She’d gotten out of there so fast, she hadn’t even confirmed she’d executed her targets. Though she never missed, seeing Rebel had thrown her.
Forty minutes later, she arrived at the Corpus Christi airport. After returning the rental car, she hurried over to charter flights. There, she boarded the private plane and paused to say hello to the pilot and copilot.
