Page 27

The ride back to the bungalow was done mostly in silence.

Missy, because she was on edge waiting for the attack she knew was inevitable, and Cobble, because his head, Missy understood, had to be one-hundred percent in the same place. Wiley wasn’t a huge talker to begin with, and the two agents, Georgio and Fleischerman, who were not normally chatty, had nothing to say. So…screw them.

Missy kept her attention divided between those in the vehicle, and the road ahead.

The armored SUV that the agency had lent them for the duration was extremely easy to handle, and if the circumstances were different, Missy might have thoroughly enjoyed being able to drive something larger than her normal, compact sedan.

As it was—and as surreptitiously as possible—she’d been testing its capabilities all the way back to the south shore, understanding that she might have to employ her expert maneuvering skills at some point or another. That , of course, depended on what the approaching shit-storm would entail.

If all went well—and fingers crossed they did—they’d make it back to their bungalow hideaway, where any moves executed against them, today or in the days to come, would be thwarted by the SOS operatives hiding there.

“How much longer,” Fleischerman grunted grumpily after they’d been on the road for a half hour.

“Fifteen minutes, give or take,” Missy returned. “Why? You have an agenda?” She didn’t mind poking the asshole a bit.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he countered.

“Nothing. I just wondered if youze had something urgent you had to do, like take a crap.”

Yeah. Nobody had ever accused her of having filters.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, you know that?” Agent Georgio sneered.

“Well, it’s been good to me so far,” she said, winking at Cobble who was sitting in the back. He was positioned in the middle of the bench seat, with Wiley to one side and Fleischerman on the other. Georgio rode shot-gun.

That comment seemed to shut things down again.

More silence ensued until Missy eventually turned into the barren sea-side area that had been partially cleared of brush and trees, but was still left dotted with numerous small houses in various states of decay.

“Is anybody else living here?” Georgio asked, taking a long look at each house they drove past as Andy approached the cottage where she and Cobble had been staying.

His was either a typical agent-curious question, or he was making sure no one would be around to bear witness to whatever he planned on doing.

“Nope,” Missy answered easily. “Everything is empty. This whole, huge site is slated for demolition. We’ll have the place to ourselves. I’m told there’s not a soul within half a mile of here.”

Which, of course, wasn’t true. There were at least four of her colleagues on the property; three waiting in the house, and Prez settled on a nearby roof.

Prez was the sniper on the SOS team, and he was damned good at his job. If shit started to go sideways outside, he’d be the one making sure that Andy and Cobble got the coverage they needed.

“You, Prancingdeer ,” Fleischerman leaned around Cobble to address Wiley in a denigrating tone. “As soon as we get to this safehouse, you go in first and scope it out; make sure we don’t have anybody waiting for our star witness inside.”

She and Baskins had speculated that their perp might try to separate the good guys from the bad, and it looked like things were heading in that direction.

“You should do it,” Wiley replied smartly, being contrary on purpose. “I’ll stick with Cobble.”

Fleischerman raised his voice angrily. “Hey. Who’s in charge here?” he barked. “I’m the senior agent, and this isn’t up for debate, I’m giving you an order. Once we stop, get the fuck out of the vehicle and see if the house is empty.”

Wiley shrugged, like he didn’t give two fucks, but would comply.

“This is it,” Missy let them know as they pulled up in front of the place she and Cobble had enjoyed up until this point.

She braced herself as she put the SUV in park.

If she were reading the room correctly, it looked like things were going to get underway sooner, rather than later.

Wiley wasn’t fast to make any moves, and that was good, because before he reached for the door handle or got his safety belt off, her phone—which was beside her on the seat—buzzed with an incoming message.

Andy glanced down.

It had to be from either Baskins, Smalley, or her SOS team.

She picked it up and scrolled it open.

Chuck.

“Hang tight for a minute, Mistah Prancingdeer,” Missy stated, holding up a finger. “I have an incoming from headquarters.” She swiped at her screen and three words in bold caps popped up.

IT’S BOTH OF THEM

She quickly deleted the message.

Well, shit.

At least she, Cobble, and Wiley had worked out a signal, so she could let them know what Chuck had discovered, if the info came to her when there were others around.

Missy lifted her hand to the rearview mirror, and raised two fingers across the glass as she pretended to adjust it to better see the back seat. Then she lied to the agents. “That was Baskins,” she prevaricated. “He wants a conference call at two .”

The pair of clues she’d dropped wouldn’t be missed.

However, she didn’t know exactly what was going to happen next. The following few minutes were the only part of their planning that was flawed; they didn’t know when, exactly, the agents would make their move, and her team didn’t want to respond aggressively until it was clear what their intentions were.

“Great. Another meeting,” Georgio groused, then got back to the business at hand, becoming belligerent. “Now move your ass, SOS,” he told Wiley dismissively. “Do your job.”

Missy sighed loudly. “Here’s the key.” She dug in her pocket, took it out, and passed it back to Wiley.

Wiley made no pretense of being a pushover for whatever they were trying to achieve with their posturing. He took the key, but then blatantly pulled his firearm, gripping it easily in one hand as he opened the door. He gave the pair a look that was almost a warning; one that quite clearly stated he was ready for business. Of any kind.

Without calling attention to herself as the two kept eyes glued to Wiley’s trip toward the front door, Missy also unsnapped her under-shoulder holster, making her weapon more easily accessible. She hoped Cobble had a chance to do the same. They’d made sure he was armed today.

Wiley made it to the bungalow without incident, which was good. The lowlife agents could have shot him in the back, but Missy’s team had banked on the perp—now perps—wanting the privacy inside the bungalow to do their dirty work.

Their strategy for sending Wiley ahead? The agents obviously wanted to dilute power; making sure their targets were separated.

What Fleischerman and Georgio didn’t know, was that as soon as Wiley cleared the front door, he’d be joined by SOS operatives, and would be relaying to them the new intel that both men were rotten.

A fully armed and dangerous welcoming party would then be waiting when she and Cobble were finally ushered in.

Wiley took one step onto the porch, then two more to the door…

He placed the key in the lock and turned it, then opened it up to go inside. Giving one look back over his shoulder, he disappeared into the interior, leaving the door a few inches ajar.

“How long are we gonna wait before we follow him?” Missy asked Fleischerman, pretending she didn’t give two figs by affecting a bored yawn.

“We’re not,” he clipped. “Let’s go.”

Neither had pulled their weapons yet, but Missy knew it would only be a matter of time before they did.

“After you,” Georgio sneered at her, then gestured to Cobble.

Missy and Cobble egressed at the same time, then rounded the SUV.

Sure enough, when they came to the front of the vehicle, Georgio was reaching into his jacket.

Missy glared at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, once he pulled out his gun.

“Making sure you comply,” Fleischerman answered for Georgio. Hearing a click, she knew agent number two was also brandishing his Glock.

“Comply with what?” Missy still played dumb.

Georgio snorted. “Damn, it looks like you’ve lost your edge, bitch. Civilian life has clearly made you soft.”

“Why don’t you spell things out for me, then,” Missy whined loudly as she and Cobble were not so gently prodded toward the house.

Fleischerman stopped, which halted the party mid-barren-yard.

It looked like this was it.

His tone was angry and bitter when he finally gave the answers Missy had been expecting. “You fuckers have taken fourteen long years away from us,” he growled, prodding Cobble in the side with his weapon. “Fourteen goddamned years for us to finally get the opportunity to eliminate the one witness who can screw up the sweet deal we have with our South Sudanese friend.”

“ Fuckers ,” Missy hissed, as if she didn’t already know. “Both of youze,” she snarled, putting on a good act if she did say so herself.

“Yeah. Both of us,” Fleischerman confirmed. “We’re rich beyond anything you stupid dumbasses could ever imagine. But because of this man,” he jeered and jabbed at Cobble again, “we haven’t been able to enjoy ourselves the way we should. That , however, is all about to change.”

His voice turned gleeful. “With you both out of the way, there’ll be no one to connect us to El-Umar. Charges against him will be dropped because there’ll no longer be a witness, and he won’t think to implicate us since he won’t have to testify.”

“You’re delusional,” Missy told him, gritting her teeth as she and Cobble were herded up onto the porch. “You do away with us, and everyone will know it was you who did it.”

“Not necessarily,” Fleischerman returned smugly. “The way we have things planned, it will look like we’ve all just simply disappeared.”

“How?” Cobble asked, keeping a hand on Missy’s back to push her ahead.

“Easy,” Fleischerman continued. “We kill you both, weight your bodies down and throw you into the ocean. Then Georgio and will I go off grid, too, with our already in place aliases, and no one will be the wiser that you two are fish food while we’ll be dining on delicacies in the Soloman Islands.”

“What about Wiley?” Missy growled.

“He’ll also be dead. But we can leave his body here. Nobody will care about one nobody from some piss-ass security company who died when all of us have disappeared. It’ll be part of a big mystery that’ll never be solved.”

Fleischerman came up and roughly separated her from Cobble, pulling her backward while Georgio put a gun to Cobble’s neck and prodded him into the house first.

Missy drew in a deep breath.

Shit was about to happen .

The interior had been made purposely dark by the team in residence pulling all the blinds, so coming in out of the sunshine, her vision and that of the three others needed a few seconds to adjust.

That was all the time SOS needed.

Operatives emerged and Georgio was immediately surrounded.

“Drop the gun,” Brent snarled.

Georgio spun, instead, to take out the risk, but before he could get off a shot, several rounds rang out, and the agent dropped to the floor.

Cobble rotated toward Missy, his weapon raised to defend her, but Fleischerman was quicker. He’d ducked his head down behind hers; his gun pressed hard into her temple.

Fleischerman growled. “Don’t do anything stupid or the bitch dies.”

He eased backward until his feet crossed the threshold, dragging her out onto the porch, kicking the door closed behind them.

Missy barely managed to catch Cobble’s rapid movement toward the back of the bungalow before she lost sight of him, but instantly knew he had to have a plan.

She’d be ready.

****

Cobble scrambled for the back window in the bedroom, the only way to leave where he wouldn’t be spotted. Without a second’s hesitation, he pushed the sash open and climbed out.

When the man Cobble hadn’t been introduced to—but whom he assumed was Billboard—attempted to follow, Cobble stopped him short and handed over his gun instead. “Take this. I won’t need it. I have an idea,” he rattled off. “Tell Prez, on the roof, to be prepared.”

Cobble knew all the operatives were wearing wires.

“Okay. He doesn’t have a shot yet. They’re still on the porch.” Billboard frowned, but to show the depth of his trust, he didn’t follow.

Cobble slipped to the ground, and bending over, he scrabbled in the scrub around his feet and found exactly what he needed.

He quietly rounded the corner of the house, where Fleischerman was now in the scruffy yard, pulling Andy back toward the vehicle. The agent’s eyes were glued to the front door.

Cobble got into position.

“Fleischerman,” he yelled, to draw the man’s attention.

The agent turned angry, yet frantic eyes his way.

Cobble held up both hands, palms facing away from the agent, to show that he wasn’t armed with a gun. “I’m unarmed.”

The agent’s trepidation relaxed, and an evil grin spread across his face. “Aww. Isn’t that sweet. Our star witness doesn’t want Andriopolos to be dragged off alone. Gag me. Okay, asshole,” he taunted Cobble. “Move closer, but I have my eyes on you. If you pull a gun and try to use it, you’ll instantly be a dead man.”

Cobble lifted his arms out perpendicular to his body, and shrugged. “No gun,” he grunted as he steadied himself and prepared to do what was needed.

“Come forward, then,” the guy ordered.

Cobble drew in a deep breath, and…

Without warning, he cocked back his arm, aimed, and let his projectile fly.

The sharp rock hit Fleischerman square in his gun hand. The man’s weapon, struck forcibly from his grasp, went flying.

“Andy. Drop,” Cobble yelled, his feet already moving in her direction.

Andy fell at the same time a shot rang out.

Fuck!

Blood sprayed and…

Cobble slid to her side. “Andy, are you okay?”

She raised her head, shook herself off, and gave him a cheeky grin.

“Never better.”

Yes !

Cobble glanced at a now screaming Fleischerman, clutching at his shoulder, that looked like it had been obliterated by Prez’s shot.

Fleischerman’s knees eventually buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

The SOS team didn’t waste a second.

They ran to where Fleischerman, still wailing, was trying to keep a one-handed grip on Missy’s ankle, refusing to give up.

Cobble glowered, and rolled to aid in her release, but he should have known she wouldn’t require his help. Without a bit of hesitancy, Missy raised her free foot and slammed it right into the raw meat of Fleischerman’s shoulder.

The man gargled out something unintelligible before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out.

Cobble hoped the asshole was dead.