My kill count is up to six, including the guard who was at the door. I had to take him down quickly and silently, so I cut into the chain-link fence just out of his sight on the side of the building. It was precarious because some of the men out loading one of the trucks could have seen me had they looked closely. But I made it through and was able to sneak in soundlessly and squeeze off a silenced bullet into the guard’s head.
He dropped, and I gave Bebe the go-ahead. “I’m ready to go in.”
She replied, “It’s dark. Go.”
I opened the door to blackness, lowered my goggles into place, and entered, shutting the door and extinguishing the outdoor light. Immediately, the guards stumbled around, hands reaching for walls to try to feel their way to safety. The benefit of having no windows in this warehouse was that only I could see.
I dropped another guard on the way to the cell as Bebe followed the building plans and guided me via my earpiece.
The four gang members were a pleasure to take out for their evil intentions. My only regret is I didn’t run into Mejia, and I have no clue where he is. I can’t worry about that now—my main goal is to rescue Greer.
I have no clue how many others are waiting for us, but I move stealthily to the end of the hall, which ends in a T. To the left is the main warehouse where the open dock doors allow light in. While it’s dusk, there is still plenty of illumination for us to be seen.
I cut right instead, which leads to the back door I came in through. I expect to find the door open, but it’s not. I expect guards to be coming our way, but they don’t.
It’s a clear exit, and I don’t know what I did to appease the man upstairs, but I’m grateful our path out is unencumbered.
But then the lights flicker on, and our time of stealth is over.
I don’t hesitate and order Greer, “Hang on. We’re making a run for it.”
The exit door looms, and I push through it, the flash of light in my goggles momentarily blinding me. I yank them off, just as someone behind us yells, “Detenganse!”
Stop.
Not fucking likely.
I spin fast, which dislodges Greer’s hand on my shoulder. Turning one hundred and eighty degrees, I’m facing her and whoever just yelled is right behind her.
A man in his thirties, oddly wearing a light gray suit with a tie. He raises the gun in his hand.
I barely catch a glimpse of Greer’s face as she looks at me with stunned recognition, and then I’m firing. One more bullet whiffs out of the silencer—one more head shot—and the man crumples to the ground.
Greer turns to see, but I’m reaching for her hand and pulling her along.
“That’s Diego Mejia,” she gasps as she runs behind me. “Hugo’s son.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I snap, cutting around the corner of the building and making a sprint for the chain-link fence. Greer’s long legs have no problem keeping up.
When we reach the split I made with bolt cutters, I pull back the edge for Greer to precede me.
Instead, she glares. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ll explain later,” I reply harshly, putting a hand on top of her head and pushing her down to crawl through the opening.
She thankfully scrambles through with no further questions, and I dive behind her. We sprint for the tree line ten yards away, just as shouts of Spanish reach my ears. They’ve come out the back door and no doubt seen Mejia’s son lying there dead. Bullets zing past us.
Greer takes off into the forest, and my legs pump to overtake her. I grab her arm, pulling her to a halt and then jerk my head to the left. “We need to go this way.”
“No, we need to go this way,” she replies, indicating the direction she was going. “Your way heads back toward the warehouse.”
“I know,” I say, pulling her along. “But we need to slow down the other guards who are going to come after us, especially if I just killed Mejia’s son.”
My words seem to be enough as I let her go, and she follows close on my heels. I run along the perimeter of the property, about twenty yards into the tree line where we can’t be seen. I have no doubt soldiers will follow us into the forest, but we have enough of a head start for me to do what I need to do.
I reach the spot where I’d stashed the compound bow and quiver that holds only three arrows. I push the gun into Greer’s hand. “Cover me.”
Without acknowledging a response, I move closer to the edge of the tree line where I can see the loading dock just a hundred yards away. I position myself with a clear path between the trees. Guards are running around and shouting. Some are moving toward their vehicles, and others are bringing stacks of munitions out of the warehouse and loading them onto one of the trucks.