by L. T. Ryan
Jack spotted the coffee maker and headed right to it. Three cupboards later he found the mugs and poured a full cup. No cream, no sugar. Just black. Pure coffee. Maybe even came from the same mountains they’d driven through. Anticipation built. He took a sip and spat the drink in the sink. Looking around, he saw the familiar blue tin of Maxwell House, then dropped the mug in the sink where it shattered.
“What the hell?” Goya took two steps toward him, hands balling into fists.
“Don’t worry,” Jack said. “I got another one right here.” He grabbed a half-full mug and slammed it against Goya’s temple sending him stumbling into the island in the middle of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nicolás’s kitchen was all steel and marble so it would be a breeze for his workers to clean up once Jack was done dealing with Goya and his men. The island in the center acted as a barricade and prevented the six of them from rushing him all at once. This gave him the upper hand.
Goya crashed to the floor with one hand to his head in an attempt to stem the flood of blood pouring down his face. It seeped through his clenched fingers and across his hand. There was a moment’s pause before his men realized what had happened then chaos broke loose. In that split second Jack grabbed a black-handled chef’s knife out of the block and brandished it at the man closest to him. The kitchen erupted as seemingly everyone’s training kicked in at the same moment.
The man closest to Jack was short and muscular with thick black hair that stood three inches high. Must’ve taken a tub of grease to get it to stand like that. One slice of the knife across his chest was enough to shock him backward. This gave Jack room to swing upward and drive the knife into the soft flesh under his jaw and up into his brain. He used so much force he could’ve driven it through the guy’s skull but all that hair would have made it impossible to tell. When he pulled the knife free, the man collapsed to the ground in a lifeless lump.
Jack whipped around just in time for a second man, tall and lean, to shove the butt of his shotgun into Jack’s stomach. He doubled over and lost his grip on the knife. It clattered to the ground and skated close to Goya’s feet.
The lean man brought his knee up. Jack stopped the blow with his crossed forearms then gripped the man’s other leg and pulled up on it sweeping him off his feet. The guy landed hard on his side. Jack threw two quick jabs to the man’s nose. He heard it crunch after the second blow. He pulled back one more time and slammed his fist into the side of the guy’s jaw, knocking him out so he could deal with the three remaining men who had organized themselves as a team.
A young man with a buzz cut raised his weapon to fire on Jack, but the older man next to him pushed the firearm toward the floor. “Not in here, you idiot. Ricochet.”
Jack used the distraction to look around the kitchen for another weapon. The workers had left in a hurry and the food they were preparing was still on the stove. Vegetables cooking in grease in a cast iron pan were beginning to burn while potatoes in a large steel pot were boiling over. He grabbed the cast iron pan, ignoring the searing pain of gripping the handle bare handed. He whipped the pan through the air, spraying scorching hot grease and veggies on the man closest to him. Then he brought it back across as he stepped forward. The back side caught the guy on the side of his head, dislocating the guy’s jaw and snapping his head halfway around. Once more Jack struck with the cast iron, this time crushing the guy’s forehead inward.
He swung around and used it against the man with the broken nose, who had started to get to his feet. One well-placed swing knocked him back into the corner of the counter. He slid to the ground, chin to his chest, blood dripping, body unmoving.
Jack dropped the pan. It felt as though half the skin on his palm went with it. He’d pay for that later. Right now the adrenaline took care of the pain.
The young kid gaped at Jack, but the older man didn’t waste time looking at the fate of his comrades. He grabbed a knife and sent the block flying onto the floor behind them so Jack couldn’t get to it.
Jack couldn’t risk moving backward and tripping over the bodies behind him, so he grabbed a towel hanging from the front of the oven and rushed the older man in front of him. The guy slashed with the knife but was too slow. Jack brought the towel up and wrapped it around the blade and twisted. The guy’s hand could only bend so far before he let go of his weapon.
Jack threw a fist into the man’s face, driving his arm through and slamming his elbow into the side of the guy’s head. The man stumbled and spun in a half circle. Jack stepped forward, wrapped the towel around the guy’s throat, turned his back so he held the ends of the towel in front of his chest. He pulled down on the ends until the man was off his feet. Then he lurched forward, yanking out and down, felt the old guy go limp as his neck snapped.
The only one left was the kid. Bear had told Jack about the young one in the woods he’d had no choice but to kill. It wasn’t their fault they thought this was the only life they could lead. Hell, Jack understood the call of a good paycheck, even if the work was less than ideal. But everyone had to live with the consequences of their actions. The kid was at least eighteen, so he knew what he was getting into when he charged at Jack.
Taking him was as easy as sliding to the side and using the momentum of the charge to flip him onto the island. Then he drove his fist into the guy’s mid-section. As the guy tried to catch his breath, Jack gripped the other man’s head in his hands and twisted as hard as he could. There was another crack and the body went still.
Jack surveyed the damage in between heavy inhalations. There were more men inside the place, but he’d dealt with the largest contingent. The rest were patrolling solo or in pairs. It would be easy for Sadie and him to take them out.
Jack wandered back over to the coffee machine and checked the cabinets above for a decent blend. The adrenaline rush was more intense than caffeine, but it didn’t last as long. Unfortunately Maxwell House was the only option.
Jack expected to see the glint of the knife near Goya’s feet, so when he rounded the corner of the island and it wasn’t there, his instincts took over. He stepped back and readied himself a moment before Goya popped up, blade in hand, swinging wildly. The tip of the blade sliced across Jack’s ribs, but the wound wasn’t deep. Ignoring the sting of the wound, Jack stepped in close so Goya couldn’t use the weapon effectively. He threw two jabs. One connected with the soft fleshy area at the base of the neck, and the other his sternum. It had been meant for the man’s solar plexus. Instead of doubling over, Goya pushed back, sending Jack into the stove. The edge of the grates seared his lower back. He put his hand back to stop his momentum, further damaging his palm on the burner.
“You think you’re getting out of here alive?” Goya stalked toward Jack, forcing him to step over the bodies on the floor. He had the only exit blocked. They both slipped in the blood. Neither was balanced enough to charge the other.
“I’ve got a better chance than you do, asshole,” Jack said.
Goya missed Jack with a wad of spit. “Says who?”
Jack waited until Goya hit a particularly thick patch of blood, his right foot sliding off to the side, before he ducked down behind the island and out of the other man’s sight. He snatched one of the knives out of the fallen block and turned the corner of the island, staying low. By the time Goya took two steps forward, Jack popped up behind him on the other side of the island. He whistled to get the other man’s attention. When Goya spun around, Jack threw the knife. He clutched his injured hand to his chest after the knife left his grip and watched as the blade sunk dead center in Goya’s chest.
“Says the last guy left standing.”
Goya collapsed to the ground and Jack nearly collapsed on the island. He needed rest. There’d be time for that later. For now he needed to check in on how Sadie was handling Nicolás.
He grabbed a white towel and wiped his face, neck, arms and hands, turning the linen dark red. The shotgun one of the guys had used to strike him
was laying in a puddle of blood. Jack scooped it up and racked it. It wasn’t loaded and there weren’t any rounds in sight. Why the hell was the guy carrying an unloaded weapon? He pulled the knife from Goya’s body, cleaned it on the bloody towel, then left the kitchen and crossed the foyer. He heard low voices coming from the room where Sadie was presumably still meeting with Nicolás. He could bust in there and use the element of surprise against Nicolás, but he knew the other man had a pistol, and Jack only had a knife and an unloaded shotgun. There’d be enough time to kill him in that split second it would take for Nicolás to reach for his weapon, but they needed the man alive if they wanted to find Camila.
So Jack cracked open the door as quietly as he could and peered into the room. As soon as he took in the scene, he pushed the door open wider. He couldn’t hold back the surprised chuckle that escaped his mouth.
“How’s it going in here?” he asked.
“Pretty good.” Sadie didn’t look over at him. Nicolás was on his knees in front of her, bloody and beaten. She appeared calm, clean, and a little cocky as she held his own gun to his head. “How about for you?”
Jack looked down at his ripped shirt, his burnt hands, and his bloody jeans. “The coffee here is shit.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Franklin was dead. The idiot had gotten cocky. He believed he could take on two of Nicolás’s men at once. He’d been knocked down and took two bullets to the brain. We’d hoped to complete the mission without any shots being fired, but shit usually hit the fan in situations like this.
On the plus side it was one less guy I had to take out.
We had discussed the possibility of Goddard sending his men along with us while we took on Nicolás. It was a risk to fight both sides at once but there was the chance some of the senator’s team would fall in the meantime.
Unfortunately for me, Spero, Reynard, and McGinnis were actually good at their jobs. We’d fanned out, each man on his own, and surrounded the house. I took out the two men posted out front without much trouble. Franklin had the west side, while Reynard had the east. Spero and McGinnis had circled around to the back and dealt with the teams there.
As soon as my two guys hit the ground I sprinted west in search of Franklin. He was the youngest and the weakest. It wouldn’t raise any eyebrows if he’d fallen first. When I turned the corner I saw one of Nicolás’s men pull the trigger. The suppressed shot rang out like a pebble hitting a windshield. Discernible for maybe twenty feet or so. I pulled a knife from my hip and threw it with a grunt. It penetrated the guy’s throat. Good shot considering I’d tossed on the run. He gurgled and grasped at his neck, but he had no chance. By the time his partner turned around to see what was wrong, I was already standing there. It would have been easier to double-tap with a pistol to the back of his skull.
Wasn’t that kind of day.
His eyes grew wide as he looked up at me. I was at least two heads taller and twice as wide. He fumbled his Sig Sauer toward me. I smacked it out of his hand before he had a chance to thread his shaky finger through the trigger guard. Then I bulldozed him over, wrapped my hands around his neck digging my thumbs into his larynx. His face turned red and then dark blue. He tried to break my grip, but his arms were like twigs compared to mine. He brought a knee up aimed for my groin but the shot was weak. I forced him to his knees and then down on his back. I held on until he stopped twitching.
I stopped to pull my knife from the fallen guard’s neck, wiping his blood on his shirt. I checked his pockets for a wallet or phone but found nothing useful. Same with his partner. Maybe they were under close surveillance here. All reports had to be made in person to avoid their conversations being picked up.
I had to make a choice. I could cross the front of the house again and try to take down Reynard before he turned the corner to the back of the house. I’d risk being exposed for sure if I did this. The other option was to keep going around the west side and meet the others at the back of the house. The plan from there was to enter in through the rear and assist Jack in finishing off the rest of Nicolás’s men.
But Goddard’s guys didn’t know Sadie was more than just a talented accountant. Her job was to put Nicolás at ease before disarming him. The moment Spero or one of the others saw her with our target, they’d know something was up.
I had to take as many of them out as possible before then.
Decision made, I ran across the front of the house again, a wary eye on the front door. I trusted Jack with my life and knew he could neutralize an entire team of Nicolás’s men. But anything could go wrong here. There was a difference between trusting someone and being negligent.
I made it to the east side of the house and ducked low, peering around the corner. Two men lay on the ground. Pools of blood joined together and formed a crimson lake. Reynard leaned over them, breathing heavily, a gash across his arm. He spat on the corpses and looked up in my direction, making sure no one else was on their way to attack him. I pulled back behind the wall just in time.
After a count of ten, I leaned back around the corner and watched Reynard take off for the rear of the house. Gripping an invisible wound on my side, I leaned forward and dragged myself around the corner. A low whistle was all it took to get his attention. He saw my hunched figure slide down the wall and slump forward and he came running. Regardless of how he felt about me, I was still a member of the team, and one less man meant their chances of completing this mission diminished.
I hid my knife in my hand with the blade pressed against my forearm and waited for Reynard to get within an arm’s length away. He slowed down when he was near, taking one agonizingly slow step at a time as he scanned the area with a suppressed pistol. Was it for enemies, or me? I let out a groan and slumped forward a little more. I was exposed. He knelt by my side.
“You out, man?” He tucked the pistol behind his back. “What happened?”
I didn’t bother answering him. I spun the blade in my hand and stuck the knife deep into the inside of his thigh, reaching up to cover his mouth and silence the scream he couldn’t help but unleash. He shoved back at me, swinging to inflict damage to the wound he thought I had. When the blow landed on undamaged skin, his eyes narrowed, finally catching sight of my plan. I didn’t give him another moment of contemplation before I shoved the knife through his eye socket, pushing it in to the hilt.
Spero and McGinnis were to wait until the rest of us circled around the back before they entered the house. When none of us showed up, they might separate and check out the east and west sides of the house. One would spot Franklin’s dead body and not think anything of it. The young man’s long- and short-term chances of survival were slim. It was just a tragedy it had happened so soon, I guess.
The other man would circle around to check on Reynard and notice the two dead bodies and no fellow soldier standing over them. I took Reynard’s sidearm then gripped him by the front of his black vest and hooked an arm around his blood-soaked leg. He wasn’t a big guy, but damn he was dense. I grunted as I dumped him in the bushes at the front of the house. It wouldn’t hide him for long, but when Spero or McGinnis were left by themselves, they’d enter the back of the house on their own. Time wasn’t on our side.
That was the thought that propelled me up the front steps and had me stopping at the door. It was a risk going through this way knowing that Nicolás had probably taken Sadie into the same room they had spoken in before. Jack was meant to get the guards away from the two of them and systematically eliminate them, but there was no guarantee it had worked out the way we’d planned.
I saw a shadow pass on the other side of the door and squatted out of sight. A moment passed and no one followed. Was it Jack or one of Nicolás’s men? I gripped the doorknob and twisted. It was silent in my hand. Staying low I pushed at the door and stood to the side as it swung open on well-oiled hinges. When I pivoted around the jam, Reynard’s suppressed pistol at the ready, I was met with an intriguing scene.
Sadie stood above
Nicolás, a gun aimed at his head. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth and there might even have been tears in his eyes. Sadie’s face was expressionless. Jack looked as though he’d done battle with a Spartan unit. I stepped inside and closed the door then leaned back against it and smiled. “Rough day at the office?”
Jack shrugged. “I killed a guy with some peppers.”
I chuckled. “That’s a new one.”
Sadie’s smile faded. “Why’d you come in through the front?”
I parted the blinds and scoped the entrance. “Change of plans. Franklin and Reynard are down. Spero and McGinnis are gonna come through the back soon.”
Jack peered down the hall and then looked up the staircase to the second floor where sunlight spilled in through large skylights. “Rest of the house is empty. With the noise I made in the kitchen, they would’ve come running if there were any other guards in here. Couple of workers will likely stay out of the way until the coast is clear.”
“Tag team?”
Jack nodded. I didn’t need to tell him my plan. It was as clear to both of us as the sky outside. He took off up the stairs to double check that the second level was clear and then tucked himself away for the ambush.
I started to pull the door shut on Sadie. “Hang tight, okay?”
“Be careful.”
I took off down the hall and met Spero and McGinnis as soon as they breached the rear entrance.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Spero looked me up and down. “Where’d you come from? Whose blood is that?”
“Front door.” I took a couple deep, sharp breaths like I’d been put through the ringer. “You hear those shots? Franklin’s down. Pulled one of the men in here out through the front door. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Seen Reynard?” McGinnis asked.