I back tracked, then crawled toward where I’d seen that flash of light, taking my time until I was several yards away.
“I’m leaving, man,” a deep voice called out. “That money isn’t worth my fucking life.”
I wanted to laugh. What? Did this bastard think he was playing with a novice? Someone who didn’t know tactics? First rule of the game. Never trust a word coming out of a killer’s mouth. Jay just reaffirmed that one. And second? Never show your hand until you see the whites of their eyes, and then you pull the trigger. Apparently, this guy didn’t get the memo.
I stayed silent. Watching. Waiting for the guy in front of me to move. A good three minutes went by and he still didn’t show his location.
“Okay. You got me. I’m not leaving. But since this is a stalemate and I’m guessing you got Jay—he’s dead, isn’t he?”
I remained silent but inwardly chuckled.
“I don’t to die. Let’s call this even. How about it?”
Okay, asshole. Keep talking.
Unbeknownst to him, I was an expert at stealth recon—one of the few good things I’d learned in the military. I could be inches from the enemy and they would never guess I was right up their ass before I ended them. And as he kept talking, I moved silently like a snake.
This douche bag would learn how good I was soon enough. I inched in until I was close enough to see that it wasn’t a person, but a fucking walkie talkie.
“Surprise?” The hitter cackled from behind me.
Shit. That’s genius. No sooner had that thought entered my mind, a bullet nailed my thigh. Pain exploded from the entry point and spread like an electric charge from the center of the damage, up my leg.
Then another bullet hit the knife blade and the force of the impact jerked the now broken weapon from my hand. Damn, this guy was good—maybe almost as good as me.
“Thought you were a smart one, huh? But I got ya. I’m the smarter mammal. Now, you got to understand, this is only business. No hard feel—” A gunshot rang out, then silence ensued.
Were there three killers?
“Fuck,” I quietly hissed, as pain lanced through my leg.
Krew—Regi. My thoughts were now centered on them, and how I was going to stay alive to protect them.
Then I saw a figure in head-to-toe camouflage gear emerged from behind a cluster of trees to the east—and headed straight for me. As he got closer, I tagged a FN Ballista slung over his right shoulder and Sig Saur Rattler in his left hand.
He got to about three yards away from me before he stopped. “The bastard in the tree is dead,” he called out before he tucked the gun away. “I’m glad I got here in time to help.”
“Who the hell are you?” I calmly asked, as I lifted the second K-bar and pointed it at this new comer, but wished I had my gun. I didn’t care how someone came at me; I didn’t trust them until I was sure they were an ally.
Since I was at a disadvantage, I tried getting up—be eye level with the man. It took two attempts before I got my footing and stood, but I never looked away from the stranger.
The asshole laughed like a hyena. “Merrick sent me.”
Merrick? Jesus.
“Why would he send you?” I asked, while trying to get a better sense of what the hitman actually wanted.
He glanced at the house and winced. “Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his narrowed eyes. “But I’m here now to save your sorry ass.”
As he cautiously approached, I immediately recognized his face.
Bonner Kelly. Most people called him Boom, because he liked to play with explosives.
“Am I staring at a ghost? I heard you died.” Relief coursed through me, now that I knew the man standing a yard away.
I’d only come across him one other time—several years back in a dusty back alley in a small Iraqi town, before either of us became assassins for hire. Two different units with two different missions, but one objective. In the end, this man wouldn’t be walking around if it wasn’t for me saving his ass when an enemy sniper wanted to use Bonner’s head for target practice. And in the end, my unit completed the mission, got to the militants first before more women and children were taken and imprisoned in a rape house.
“Nope,” Bonner said as he approached until he within spitting distance.
