I shove my chest at his, looking down my nose at him. “Don’t play stupid,” I say, jaw working. “You know I’m with Clover and you also know your sister is a manipulating whore.”
“Whore, is it?” Rexy says, cracking his neck once on the left and then the right. “Luella, my baby sister is a whore? Is that what you were moaning when you fucked her?”
I shake my head. “It was a mistake. You out of all people should know exactly how those kinds of mistakes happen. I have never had feelings for Luella. I never will. She is the one that twisted this into something it’s not. Something it will never be. Now she’s making Clover’s life a living hell and killing business at the salon. I need you to talk some sense into Luella. Tell her that I am never crossing over to that side again with her. I’m serious. I’m fucking pissed.”
He cackles, one hand on his stomach. “Since when has ordering people around like this gotten you anything? You catch more flies with honey and all that. Or is it you catch the honeys by being fly? I can never remember.” Rexy throws up gun signs. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. He continues, “You’re acting like a complete fool. Get your dick out of your head, bro. You seem crazy. Ever think she deserves it?”
“No,” I roar. Rexy pushes at my chest to create space between our bodies. “She doesn’t deserve any of it. She’s in a new place, fuck, the woman is in a whole different world from what she’s used to, and she’s dealing with your sister and her cronies while they try to ruin her life. Catty bullshit. Clover doesn’t deserve that.”
Rexy rubs at his eyes and looks sleepy when he pulls his hands from his face. “You can’t even help yourself, can you? You really are twisted up with this girl.” He does his best to play at curiosity and I think it’s a ploy to calm me down.
“That’s not your business,” I fire back.
He laughs. “You want me to talk to my sister for you, so I’d say it is exactly my business.”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. The moral thing to do. Fuck that though, right? You don’t do morals or care what’s right or wrong,” I counter.
“You’re mad at me for something my sister did. I’d say you’re the one who doesn’t care what’s right or wrong. Pull your head out of your ass, man. No woman is worth this much anger. Look at yourself. You’re miserable.”
My fists clench. “Look where we’re at,” I say, throwing an arm out in the tiny room identical to mine. “You know I’m miserable here. We’re useless. We’re not helping or doing our job. I don’t even know how many people died yesterday and we couldn’t stop it. It will happen again and again, and we’ll probably be too late those times as well. So, you could say I’m miserable and frustrated. Aren’t you? Aren’t we all?”
He interrupts. “We can’t control the attacks—the war. That’s what this is all about.” There’s a deafening silence in the air when a generator cycle switches off. “And this thing with Clover is something you can control. I get it, man. I get it. She’s an adult though, don’t you think she can handle her business?”
Inhaling, I take in a noisy breath. “She can handle herself.” Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply once again. “I can’t lose her. You don’t get it. How can you possibly understand without having someone you care about?”
Rexy clears his throat. We don’t talk about stuff like this. His jaw works as his gaze strays from mine. “If you’ll lose her due to a jealous woman, I’d say she is worth losing,” he counters.
“You’d say a lot of things I don’t agree with. I’m not asking that Luella be best friends with Clover, I’m askin’ that she stops giving her a hard time.”
Grabbing a plastic basket of toiletries from his desk, he groans. “I’ll talk to her. Luella does what she wants, and I doubt she’ll care what I say. She’s hung up on you, I bet she’d listen to you before me. That’s my opinion though. I’m heading to shower now that you’ve sobered me up.”
“Thanks for your opinion, man, but I don’t have the patience or endurance to talk to Luella. Not about this. Not without losing my temper.” Shaking my head, I move out of his way and lay a hand on his shoulder before he opens the door. “I’m not mad at you, either. I’m just mad in general.”
He claps me on the back. “I’m mad, too.” Rexy meets my eyes. “Pull it together, yeah?” Opening the door, he exits into the hallway and I follow. Three men, including our officer, are approaching from the main building entrance.
I swallow down a wave of nausea when I see the looks on their faces. A grim representation about what they’re about to say. “Rest up, guys,” my boss says. “We found them. Intel worked overtime and a lucky tip came in about a half hour ago. They’re hiding out in the countryside. All of the leaders in one place. We’ll have a meeting before we head out. If we’re successful in cutting the head off this fucking snake, we’ll be heading home this time next week.”
My heart pounds. “Yes, sir,” I mutter, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice even though it would be warranted given our circumstances. Rexy asks about the intel and they tell us what they can. Others wander out of their rooms to join us in the hallway, the hype continues to build as they discuss the straight forward plan. They’re certain it’s going to be an easy kill; their smiles are confident and cocky. The old swagger we used to have when our job was simpler—the cut and dry maneuvers we are the best at.
“There we go, man,” Rexy says as I head back to my room. “The kind of fuck yeah news we needed.” He offers a few more words in the same vein of his initial sentiment. He’s trying. I made things weird by opening up to him, and this is how he’s responding. I should give him credit, but that would just make me feel even more awkward.
I offer a weak smile and close and lock the door to my room. A few men still linger in the hallway, I can hear their deep voices carrying through the walls. I clear my bed and lie down on top of the blanket. I should be focusing on my work, what needs to happen tomorrow, but I can’t shake the image of Clover fucking the dildo.
I also can’t forget her gleeful laugh the moment before she ended our conversation to go to the neighbor’s house. I’ll just have to burn on both ends tonight. One side love and the other rage.
Chapter Seventeen
___________________________________
Mercer
WE AREN’T JUSTin the English countryside, we fast roped out of our chopper and walked to a fully functional livestock farm. One of the few that still exist in the U.K. We’re cloaked by dark, but even the moon seems too bright, casting an icy glow on the barn-like structures on the property. The structures that contain the people we came to exterminate. On the flight here we devised the ground plan, and we’re all following those orders, staying alert. Do lives hang in the balance? Sure. More rides on this mission than any of the others. We have partner forces with us to help round out our numbers and let’s be honest, so they can say they had a hand if it’s successful and we’ll be able to pull out of the country without fuss. Everything is political. Nothing is sacred.
There’s a worn-out farmhouse to our left. The red paint is peeling, and a white fence surrounds a small side yard. There are lights on, and at this point, the men inside know we’re coming. We might have gotten lucky with the information we received, but that doesn’t mean they’re idiots. Far from it. Which is why this goddamned war has stretched on for so long. It’s a war against freedom—a raging shit fire that makes less and less sense as the years stretch on. There aren’t demands. There is just nonsensical bloodshed. We’re here to give them a dose of the latter, except it will make perfect sense.
We’re wearing night vision, so the landscape appears shades of green with flecks of white where cows graze in the pasture in the distance. Grange and his small team are posted about a hundred yards away, weapons trained on a barn in varying vantage points. I sink down to my knees when our team reaches our agreed upon point, our guns aimed at the house, more specifically, all the exits. We know that the farmer and his family aren’t on the premises. A figure moves past a window—a kitchen window. I hold my breath and steady my sights. The man moves out of my crosshair and I release my breath. The brief glimpse is enough for me to recognize the motherfucker. I give my confirmation, a hand gesture to identify the man on the world’s most-wanted list to my boss. He nods, green head bobbing on my night vision. A swirl of anticipation and excitement washes over me. For the first time since I can remember, I feel hope. This could end things. At least for a good while if not forever.
Seconds later, the first bombs are dropped by drone planes on top of the house. Then on the barn, and every other structure where they could ostensibly hide. The moon doesn’t have anything on explosions, and it lights up the night like a lunchtime picnic. We are merely here to make sure no one escapes and to confirm identities after it’s all said and done. The blasts ricochet, and it gets a bit warmer where we’re standing, but we are all far enough away to not be harmed by the destruction in front of us. When the fire gives way to smoke, the ominous stench of warfare hits us like an ambush. One we’ll gladly accept.
