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“You just missed the FBI. They wanted some fugitive.”

Damn, I was hoping to find them before the government did. Now that the Fed’s knew their location, it wouldn’t be long before they sent in teams to capture them. Time was of the essence now.

It was do or die time.

Looking around the dark desolate area, I asked, “They say who?”

“No.”

“All right, let’s go do this.”

Heading for the front door, I wasn’t surprised to see a biometric pad. Shaking my head, I pulled out my phone and sighed, “Paranoid much, boys?”

Bullseye said nothing, with his back to me, I quickly hacked their system. For men who were hard to find, their security system lacked a flair I was expecting. I thought it would have been harder to get into their building but alas, it was easy.

Seconds later, I heard the door unlock and we walked in.

Taking the stairs, we headed to the fifth floor, per Bullseye’s instructions. Opening the exit door, I heard yelling.

“The girl stays.” A gruff voice stated firmly.

“That’s Merc,” Bullseye whispered, leaning his head against the wall. I knew he didn’t want to be here. We discussed it at length but I refused to let the government and the Division kill patriots for doing the right thing. The whole team had been marked for death. It was only a matter of time before their time was up.

“She’s hot, Merc. You know that, right?” Another challenged, angrily.

I looked at Bullseye as he said, “Declan.”

“She’s gonna need a place to lay low, until we can figure out what is going on,” someone advised.

“Trey.”

“The safe house in Bangor is ready,” another offered. “I can get Sean to watch her.”

“Jonas”

“No, she stays with me.”

“Is the whole team present?” I whispered.

Bullseye shrugged his shoulders.

“How do you wanna do this?” I asked.

“This is your show. Not mine.”

I stayed in the shadows with Bullseye as we listened to them talk about some woman they had just rescued. Whoever she was, she was in trouble and it seemed as if Merc wasn’t about to hand her over to anyone. When they started mentioning me, I paid attention.

“Of course, we weren’t. You saw the Guardian’s calling card,” Declan sighed then added. “That fucker is death incarnate.”

What the hell? I don’t have a calling card.

Merc chuckled then asked, “Scared?”

“Fuck no,” Declan growled. “Fucker is a spook. You know I hate those bastards.”

“No one really knows who the Guardian is, Declan.”

“See, that’s my point right there. Why not tell everyone? Come out of the shadows and just say, I work for whatever fucked up organization. My loyalties are to whatever country. Why hide in the shadows like a fucking coward. I hate sneaks.”


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Crime