“Check your vest,” says the man at my side. His name is Kyle, as Alexander introduced us. No idea if that’s a real name or an alias, but I don’t give two fucks right now.
If he has the skills to get Reina out of that hellhole then he can be an alien for all I care.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s what amateurs say.” He has a slight Northern Irish accent and appears to be in his late twenties to early thirties. No idea why he sounds familiar when we’ve never met before.
He’s too laid back for all the hitman work Alexander said he does. According to my father, he’s the best man for mafia-centered jobs, and I trust Alexander to always find the best for shady jobs.
Kyle clicks his gun and hides a few knives in his waistband and offers me one. It’s only me and him and another hitman who runs in his crowd.
Naturally, Kyle and his sniper friend don’t function well with the police, so they’ll do the rescue and disappear before cops show up.
The sniper is positioned somewhere on the opposite building. Since I can’t see him—and I’m looking—it should mean he’s good.
“If you hinder me, I’ll knock you out.” Kyle doesn’t look up from his weapons as he says the words.
“Give me a gun.”
He pauses. “Do you even know how to use one?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve had shooting lessons.” And boxing ones and a whole lot of fucked-up shit I thought would keep me from acting out my obsession with Reina.
They didn’t.
“Lessons and real life are different.” He points the gun to my chest and clicks the magazine. “There would be a hole here and a lot of blood. Just saying, in case you’re squeamish.”
“I tortured a man nearly to death for her. If you think I would have second thoughts about shooting any motherfucker who hurts her, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
The fact that he’s holding a gun straight against my chest doesn’t faze me or scare me. Determination shoots through my veins, and all I can think about is finding her.
Kyle drops the gun in my hand. “Count your bullets and never leave yourself without backup.”
I give a curt nod as we slip into the back entrance of what looks like an old factory. Like some apocalypse, the area is deserted and there are no people in sight. It’s the perfect location to dispose of a body.
Those thoughts won’t consume me.
Reina will be fine. She’s a survivor.
As Kyle instructed, I remain behind him. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and black slacks as if he just left a business meeting. His build is tall and fit, and he makes no sound.
I try to walk as quietly as possible, but I don’t match the way he moves through the shadows as if he belongs in them.
The inside of the factory is shabbier than the outside. The windows are half-broken, allowing the wind to slide into the space. I stare at the roof, speculating if the sniper has a good range from here.
“Forget about him,” Kyle says in his bored voice. “Imagine you’re on your own. If you keep waiting for others to save you, you’ll die.”
That’s true in some ways.
“Why did you agree to do this?” I ask. He sure as hell didn’t seem on board when he talked to Alexander.
“It’s what I’m paid to do.”
Suddenly, he stops at the corner and places a finger to his mouth before grabbing his gun with both hands. He motions at me to remain where I am. I do, tightening my hold around my own pistol.
This means we have company. I peek around the corner and sure enough, Detective Daniels and the two officers who took Reina stand in front of a metal door.
They’re laughing and drinking as if this is some sort of a celebration.