black, and it would have melted effortlessly into the surrounding darkness if not for its bright headlights slicing through the night like twin watchtower beacons. The second vehicle was white and would have stood out even minus its headlights.
Not cops. Not even fucking close.
He didn’t know why, but he would have preferred for them to be cops. Maybe because, while that meant the earlier gunshots had attracted unwanted attention after all, the presence of law enforcement would have been expected.
But these two vehicles… There was nothing expected about them.
They parked in the middle of the front yard, blinding headlights flooding the door and the small window Jack was looking out of.
They did that on purpose , he thought as he slipped out from behind the glass so they couldn’t spot him. He leaned against the wall and waited, listening to car doors opening, then slamming loudly shut.
Then a male voice said, “Check the car; make sure it’s empty.”
Jack gritted his teeth. And things were looking up, too. He’d gotten Walter to cooperate, and though he was sure the client wasn’t going to be happy with how he did it, the fact was, he got the job done. That was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?
“Check the back,” the same voice was saying outside the house. “And watch your fire.”
“Shit,” Jack whispered, because “watch your fire” meant the men outside were armed. Not only that, but they had come here with the purpose of taking prisoners—making sure someone lived through this.
That person was, in all likelihood, not him.
Walter.
Of course it would be Walter. Who else would it be? Just as he, Jones, and Jerry had come here for the Gorman and Smith executive, so had these men. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. There was no such thing as coincidences tonight.
He reached down with his free hand and keyed his radio. “Jerry, come in.”
He waited, but there was no response.
“Jerry, goddammit, come in.”
The silence in his right ear was deafening now that the newcomers had turned off their car engines in the front yard.
“Jerry!” he hissed.
He gave up on Jerry and put his right hand back on the Sig556. At the same time, he picked up movement flashing across one of the back windows, just before a suited figure appeared at the back door, peering in through the side security glass. The darkened face snapped left, then right, before finally spotting—
Jack lifted the assault rifle and pulled the trigger, and the man screamed as his face disappeared in a torrent of exploding glass.
Chapter 9
Walter’s closest neighbor lived about half a mile away in a two-story house painted white along the sides and gray near the top, or at least in the parts that she could see from her angle inside the woods. There were bright LED lights leading from the unpaved road toward the long front porch. The windows were darkened, which told her the lamps outside were probably activated by sensors that turned on at night, and she saw panels that might have been solar cells. There was a garage on the other side of the property, but she couldn’t see any vehicles in the front yard.
There could very well have been an entire frat full of college students dozing inside the two floors at this very moment, for all she knew, but staring at the house for the last two (or was it three already?) minutes, Allie didn’t think so. She recognized an abandoned homestead when she saw one.
She glanced back at Lucy, crouched in the darkness behind her. Apollo sat protectively next to the girl, his head raised and ears at attention. The dog looked back at her with deep brown eyes and waited.
Allie put the Glock away in her back waistband, then tugged her shirt over it. If there was anyone inside the house (as unlikely as that was), it wouldn’t have been smart to walk out there with a gun out in the open. People had gotten shot for less on the news, and that was in the city. If there were people inside the
Not cops. Not even fucking close.
He didn’t know why, but he would have preferred for them to be cops. Maybe because, while that meant the earlier gunshots had attracted unwanted attention after all, the presence of law enforcement would have been expected.
But these two vehicles… There was nothing expected about them.
They parked in the middle of the front yard, blinding headlights flooding the door and the small window Jack was looking out of.
They did that on purpose , he thought as he slipped out from behind the glass so they couldn’t spot him. He leaned against the wall and waited, listening to car doors opening, then slamming loudly shut.
Then a male voice said, “Check the car; make sure it’s empty.”
Jack gritted his teeth. And things were looking up, too. He’d gotten Walter to cooperate, and though he was sure the client wasn’t going to be happy with how he did it, the fact was, he got the job done. That was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?
“Check the back,” the same voice was saying outside the house. “And watch your fire.”
“Shit,” Jack whispered, because “watch your fire” meant the men outside were armed. Not only that, but they had come here with the purpose of taking prisoners—making sure someone lived through this.
That person was, in all likelihood, not him.
Walter.
Of course it would be Walter. Who else would it be? Just as he, Jones, and Jerry had come here for the Gorman and Smith executive, so had these men. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. There was no such thing as coincidences tonight.
He reached down with his free hand and keyed his radio. “Jerry, come in.”
He waited, but there was no response.
“Jerry, goddammit, come in.”
The silence in his right ear was deafening now that the newcomers had turned off their car engines in the front yard.
“Jerry!” he hissed.
He gave up on Jerry and put his right hand back on the Sig556. At the same time, he picked up movement flashing across one of the back windows, just before a suited figure appeared at the back door, peering in through the side security glass. The darkened face snapped left, then right, before finally spotting—
Jack lifted the assault rifle and pulled the trigger, and the man screamed as his face disappeared in a torrent of exploding glass.
Chapter 9
Walter’s closest neighbor lived about half a mile away in a two-story house painted white along the sides and gray near the top, or at least in the parts that she could see from her angle inside the woods. There were bright LED lights leading from the unpaved road toward the long front porch. The windows were darkened, which told her the lamps outside were probably activated by sensors that turned on at night, and she saw panels that might have been solar cells. There was a garage on the other side of the property, but she couldn’t see any vehicles in the front yard.
There could very well have been an entire frat full of college students dozing inside the two floors at this very moment, for all she knew, but staring at the house for the last two (or was it three already?) minutes, Allie didn’t think so. She recognized an abandoned homestead when she saw one.
She glanced back at Lucy, crouched in the darkness behind her. Apollo sat protectively next to the girl, his head raised and ears at attention. The dog looked back at her with deep brown eyes and waited.
Allie put the Glock away in her back waistband, then tugged her shirt over it. If there was anyone inside the house (as unlikely as that was), it wouldn’t have been smart to walk out there with a gun out in the open. People had gotten shot for less on the news, and that was in the city. If there were people inside the
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