Page 139 of Shrapnel

Glancing down at the GPS, Owen felt his anxiety spike. They were almost there. He parked on the street two blocks from Paul’s Pizza Emporium. The van rocked as it settled into park. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he grabbed the laptop by Jackson’s feet and opened it.

“Ok, I got the blueprints from the city planning office. Unfortunately, Paul hasn’t filed any updated changes since the 90’s. Which might not be a problem but if he’s done any illegal construction, this may not be accurate.”

“It gives us an idea,” Jamie shifted in the back of the van so he could see over Noah’s shoulder. Usually the back was filled with equipment they would need for an op. But since this was technically not sanctioned by any of the gangs, they didn’t have access to anything.

“I did manage to get a quick thermal read of the building.” Owen pulled up the picture he had taken back at Weaver Syndicate. “Mateo might be insane, but he’s smart. He’s been running the ovens. It’s impossible to distinguish human heat signatures versus the ovens.”

“We’re going in blind,” Jackson summed up for him. “What’s new?”

Noah handed Jackson his gun, and he flipped some knobs or switches or whatever the hell they were. Grunting in satisfaction, he checked the sight once more.

Jamie leveled a look at Owen. He looked a weird combination of exhausted and wired. Like his brain was a live wire but his body was ready for sleep. There was a wariness in his eyes Owen didn’t recognize. He wished he would talk to him. Jamie hadn’t said much since they left Elijah’s hospital room. It can’t have been easy to see Elijah like that. Especially not after Noah said it was someone posing as Jamie who lured him there.

They hadn’t figured out who was on the other end of the line. Noah hadn’t heard the voice and Elijah wasn’t giving them any answers. As of now, they assumed it was Mateo faking Jamie’s voice. But just how he managed to fake it well enough to trick Elijah was still a mystery.

He handed Owen a gun. Silver and compared to the other guns in the car in was tiny.

“Under no circumstances are you to leave this van, understand? That is only for an emergency.”

“But I want to help.”

Jamie pointed to the comm in his ear. “That’s how you help us. You don’t need boots on the ground to be effective.”

Owen looked down at the gun. It was a lot heavier than he remembered, silver with a black textured grip. “Why did you even bother to teach me how to shoot if you won’t let me help?”

Something softened in Jamie’s face, a quick flash of something that looked dangerously close to sadness before his eyes hardened again. “There’s a very big difference between shooting someone to kill and shooting someone to protect yourself.” He leaned forward and cupped Owen’s face. “And that’s something I hope you never have to learn.”

Jamie looked so kissable in that moment. His eyes were full of sincerity, hair falling curling around his temples and lips pressed in a thin line. His fingers were warm, little electric sparks dancing between them and Owen’s skin. The confidence in which he held his guns was like the way he held Owen in bed, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

He swallowed. “Ok.”

Jamie smiled softly, thumb brushing against Owen’s cheek. “No matter what happens…Owen I…” his words stuttered, breath hitching. “…thank you. For everything.”

Before Owen could respond, his hand disappeared. Jamie exited the back with Noah. Standing between the open doors of the van, he pulled the gun from his holster and looked back at Owen.

His crooked smile was blazing in the low afternoon sun. “O Face, you have the conn.”

Then they slammed the doors, shaking the van and Owen’s thoughts. Swallowing past his dry mouth, he stared at the empty van with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He should have said something.

Shoving his laptop aside, he scrambled to the back of the van and wrenched the door open. Hanging out the back he cupped his mouth.

“Hey, Firebug! You come back to me or I’m going to publish your fanfictions under your real name!”

Jamie laughed, tapping his ear comm in response before moving out with Noah.

Owen pulled the door closed and settled in the back where he had more room. He popped up the other two monitors he had brought with him, connecting them to his laptop. Paul’s didn’t have any CCTV cameras but the surrounding buildings did, and with a few tweaks he could see right into the shop.

Settling the earpiece comfortably, Owen pulled up the blueprints again.

“Jamie there’s a rear entrance. Looks like a metal fire door, so expect the hinges to be loud. Jackson and Noah you take the front. The building is brick, but the front has a decent sized plate glass window. You won’t have any cover once you’re inside so keep it tight.”

They didn’t respond audibly but he knew they could hear him. With the blueprints on one screen and the camera views on the others, it was almost like he was in the building with them.

Paul’s Pizza Emporium was built sometime in the late 90’s. Which was probably the last time the place was truly clean. Still, it was a local favorite. People liked it because the slices were thick and greasy. The kind where the grease sat on top of the cheese in pools, running down forearms and onto the checkered tablecloths when you bit into them. The Mesa’s liked it because of its proximity to the community college—a prime location for selling weed. It was also one of the few places that still sold pizza by the slice.

The front door led to a small sitting area. The main counter was directly opposite the door, leaving room for a spacious kitchen in various shades of grimy yellow. Noah and Jackson paused outside the front door, just out of sight.

“Rear door secure.” Jamie’s voice crackled over the comms.