The driver of the Bentley got out, and I refined my aim as he opened the back passenger door, Federico appearing, fastening the buttons of his suit.
“That’s him,” I heard through my earpiece. “Don’t let the fucker out of your sight.”
“Got him,” I replied.
I had a perfect shot right there, my finger itching to pull the trigger. But we had clear orders not to engage until the trade had taken place and was captured on camera. Without evidence, we had shit on this guy.
I breathed out lightly as Granite, Dutch, and Ink walked up to Federico and his entire entourage of bodyguards.
The entire time I kept my aim on Federico, waiting for him to make one wrong move—just one, so I could have a goddamn reason to take him out.
“It’s going down,” Johnson said next to me as we watched Granite hand over the money.
My heartbeat started to pick up, and I breathed in again, focusing on keeping calm. A calm hand equals solid aim.
“They just pulled a girl out of the SUV. She’s naked and blindfolded. Motherfuckers,” Johnson cursed.
“Confirming that I still have the target in view.”
“Keep it steady, Alexander,” I heard through my earpiece.
Federico shot his cuffs, straightening his sleeves while he stood there as if the entire fucking world belonged to him. I’ve taken out a lot of bad motherfuckers before, but Federico was the goddamn antichrist when it came to sick bastards.
There were so many names of missing women and children tied to his profile, and I always wondered how fucking sick you had to have been to be able to sell living, breathing people and then still be able to sleep at night.
“Come on, man. Hand over the girl. Why is he stalling?” Johnson shifted restlessly while I held a steady aim on Federico. “Why are they just talking? Make the goddamn deal.”
A blink reflected from the building across from us, the blinding light instantly distracting me, making me lose focus and aim.
“What the fuck?” I adjusted the scope. “There’s someone in that goddamn building.”
“Where? Motherfucker,” Johnson cursed. “There’s a whole lot of them. Do they know we’re here?”
“No. It’s a precaution. They’re creating a distraction in case we’re up here.”
“Well, it’s working. Clever fuckers.”
I breathed out, doing my best to keep my heart rate down as I adjusted my aim once again, studying everything behind Federico, and everything in front. I had to make sure I considered everything in case I ended up having to take the shot.
Gunshots cracked through the air, echoing against the tall buildings.
“Jesus, fuck,” Johnson exclaimed. “Our ground team’s position has been compromised.”
Chaos erupted. It was fucking mayhem as Federico’s men all reached for their guns, Granite and his men pulling out their weapons.
It was a split-second decision—one a man in my position had to make time and time again. Where do I cover? What has now become my primary objective? And the answer always depended on the scenario, on the scene unfolding in front of you. What or who was the biggest threat. The battle? Or the warmonger?
Federico got hauled back to the Bentley, and I kept my aim on him the entire time, drowning out the gunshots and swearing. I focused on my breathing, listening to nothing but my heartbeat—my hands steady with my finger solid on the trigger. All I needed was that one fraction of a second where I had a clear shot.
One of his men opened the back passenger side door, ducking out of the way and giving me what I needed. One. Fucking. Opening.
I didn’t hesitate. I knew that if we didn’t get this fucker now, he was gone for good. I would never get this chance again. So, I took it. I held my breath and pulled the trigger.
I blinked.
I let out a breath.
And Federico was dead.