TWO
Julius
Blaze flickedbetween video feeds on his laptop’s screen with the frenetic energy that rarely left his wiry frame. He’d mounted eight discreet cameras around the mansion’s perimeter so we could monitor things after the job, and he zoomed in on one stream of video after another, each shrinking to join the row of smaller squares when he switched. He tapped his foot softly on the tiled floor of the deserted rooftop patio. The guy could never stay still.
Ages ago, his restlessness had irritated me, but now that he’d been part of the crew for years, I appreciated it. His mind was always in motion too, homing in on every important detail that could make the difference between a successful operation and a disaster.
The wrought-iron gate outside the mansion stayed closed and the sidewalks along the stone walls totally empty. This late at night, that wasn’t surprising. We’d counted on a lack of foot traffic. Out here in the suburbs, it wasn’t as if there was much nightlife. And with the damp pressure in the air hinting at a rain shower to come, who would want to be out anyway?
Talon watched the screen too, his hands resting on the top of the chair next to Blaze’s. “We didn’t miss anyone,” he said in his low, implacable voice. He glanced from the screen to the streets around us, although the long-closed restaurant we were camped out on top of was a few blocks from the mansion, too far away to really see without the cameras. The glow from the screen gleamed off his smoothly shaved scalp and glinted in his icy-blue eyes. “No hitches.”
“Obviously no one managed to put out a call for help either,” Blaze said with a grin, running his hand through the pale red hair that fit his chosen name, which fell to the collar of his shirt. Another tiny window on the computer screen was monitoring the police frequencies. “No cops, no nothing.”
Garrison propped himself against the edge of the table next to the laptop, his lips curving with his typical cocky grin. “The Chaos Crew doesn’t botch missions. Especially not when I’ve laid the groundwork.”
Of course, Blaze couldn’t resist arching his eyebrows at the youngest and newest member of our crew. “You mean like that time in Cairo,” he said teasingly.
Garrison glowered at him, the hazel eyes that seemed to shift in color depending on what he was wearing nearly black now in the dim light. “It was only my second time out, and someone forgot to fill me in on a key piece of intel.”
Blaze smiled cheekily back at him. “I didn’t forget. It was part of your training to see how you’d handle a gap. Good thing you recovered fast from that stumble.”
“But I did,” Garrison grumbled. “We got fucking paid. That’s what matters.”
“Enough,” I said before they could take their scrap any further. That one word from me was enough for them both to fall silent. I nodded to the laptop. “We don’t assume any mission is successful until afterward. We’re going to wait a little longer, just to be sure.”
I couldn’t blame them for being keyed up. We all were after a job like that, exhilarated by the rush of the violence, the blood splattered in perfect disarray, the justice seen through. If sometimes I enjoyed the carnage itself just as much as the justice, there was no need to acknowledge that to anyone else. But after another half hour or so, we could pack up, go home, and leave this scene behind us.
Blaze sat up straighter, his shoulders stiffening. “Hey, guys.”
As he clicked the trackpad to enlarge one video feed, the rest of us leaned toward the laptop screen. A woman had just stalked into view, walking alongside the stone wall, her arms tucked close to her sides and her head low. The waves of her long black hair veiled most of her face.
“A neighbor getting home late,” Garrison said, flicking his shaggy blond hair away from his eyes. “No big deal.”
“But she came out of nowhere.” Blaze frowned at the screen. “She didn’t show up on any of the other feeds, she was just suddenly there. I don’t know where she came from.”
“Look.” Talon pointed at the figure just as she passed the camera, motioning to her T-shirt. In the darkness, the feed didn’t show much in the way of color, but there was a dark smear on her chest that made my instincts ping in the same way my colleagues’ must have. “Is that blood?”
Blaze zoomed in, but she’d passed by, now angled away from us and heading toward the edge of the camera’s view. A tote bag bounced lightly against her back from where it was slung over her shoulder.
“She can’t have come from the house, right?” our tech expert said. “We did two full sweeps—we caught everyone who was on the manifest.”
We had, but I couldn’t shake the sense that this woman wasn’t just some random pedestrian either. It was too strange.
The Chaos Crew didn’t leave loose ends. I couldn’t let us leave them. That was how an operation could go to hell in an instant.
Talon lifted his gun. “We could kill her now.”
I shook my head. “We don’t have definite evidence she’s connected to the job.” Cutting her down would have been the easiest option, but it went against everything I stood for. We didn’t have many rules, but those we had, we held to. And “Kill no innocent bystanders” was at the top of the list.
No one died because of us who didn’t have it coming to them—not today, not ever.
But we couldn’t let her just walk away either, not when she might not be remotely innocent after all.
I snapped my fingers, already moving toward the stairs. “Garrison, you’re with me on foot. Talon, you and Blaze take the car. Keep me up to date on her movements. We’ll see where she goes from here and then make an educated decision.”
They sprang into action in an instant, taking my word as law. One of our other few rules was that no one challenged my leadership of the crew when I gave an order. It kept our team working as a unit. A highly sophisticated and efficient unit that didn’t make mistakes.
Until, maybe, now.