The next two were shooting from behind some hedges. Anything that moved was a target. They had enough ammo to keep the party going on all night long.
What was the point of this bloodbath?
Boss’s curiosity was piqued when he saw the state of his next target. He looked like shit, his heat signature off the charts. He grabbed a metal rake leaning against the side of the house, breaking off the end of the handle with his boot. As soon as the shooter stopped to reload, he moved in and punched him straight in the neck. He immediately dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Boss dragged him by the collar and rammed his head down over the sharp end of the rake, impaling him in the neck with the jagged wood. Blood gurgled from the wound and he collapsed to the side. Another unfortunate accident. Nice and simple for the police reports.
He picked up the automatic rifle from the grass, giving it a once over before stalking the second man on this side of the street. As soon as he found him taking aim at the SWAT members running between patrol cars, Boss cleared his throat to get his attention.
“Don’t shoot,” he said when he saw Boss standing over him.
Boss shook his head. “I don’t take orders.” He pulled the trigger, spraying the man with a quick barrage of bullets. He tossed the gun and went back to handle the last punk.
The shooter was still in the same garage. The heavy darkness shrouded Boss as he moved closer. He crouched down and picked up a rock, tossing it to the opposite end of the garage. Gunfire followed the path as the guy began to panic again. Boss rushed over and knocked his feet out from under him, snatching away his weapon. With a boot on the fucker’s chest, his own weapon pointing at his face, Boss chuckled.
“Last man standing. Not so cocky now, are you?” asked Boss.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’ll ask the questions. What I want to know is why the showdown with the cops?”
The man coughed. “They’re trying to kill us. All of us.”
“Who?”
“The cops. The government. I don’t fucking know.”
Boss jabbed him in the ribs to keep him in line. “The guy across the street was sick. You know anything about that?”
“We’re all dying off. That’s their plan…” He motioned to his backpack a few feet away. “It’s the drugs. That’s the answer.” The man cleared his throat after another coughing fit. “But they’re in for a surprise. They’re not just going to clean up the ghetto. Everyone fucking uses.”
SWAT was moving in close. Boss ordered the drone to return to home base, then put two quick bullets in the shooter’s head, dropping the gun beside the body.
Before he left, he grabbed the backpack, slinging it over one shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later, he was in the shower back home, washing away the blo
od and dust. It was late. His coffee was cold. He’d get some sleep and choose a challenging contract in the morning. Along with looking into what he’d discovered today. He’d never been able to let things go, not once his interest was piqued.
He washed his body, his soapy hands trailing over scar after scar. Some told stories, others were mysteries. His tattoos hid a lot of the past, but he could feel every single imperfection, his body the battlefield of a fucked-up life. Most of his history was blacked out, including his name and date of birth. According to every database, he shouldn’t exist. Even he couldn’t find his roots, no matter how much digging he did. The things he could remember were enough to give any man nightmares. Things were different now. He was on top and didn’t make mistakes.
Boss pulled his damp hair into a low ponytail and headed to his gun room where he’d left the backpack.
His cell phone rang. “Yeah.”
“Widow Maker strikes again,” said Maurice.
Boss had one of his hackers track El Diablo’s little sister since she’d shown up in their city. She’d proven to be a royal pain in the ass. Instead of working for him, she kept sabotaging or stealing his contracts. He should have killed her a long time ago. Her days were numbered.
“Details.”
“She took Bain’s latest mark, Robert Hayleigh, to a hotel. They just went in.”
His jaw tightened. That asshole was as good as dead. He’d have to have a chat with Bain tomorrow. It was embarrassing having a freelancer outwit one of his hitmen. Killer of Kings had a reputation to uphold.
“I want to know exactly where she goes once she leaves the hotel.”
“Will do,” said Maurice.
Boss tucked his phone away.