Zoey nodded, held up three fingers, and lowered them one at a time.
Three seconds to get ready.And she hadn’t expected Zoey to delegate.
What was she going to do, punch him? Zoey had said she could break his neck if she did, and killing anyone wasn’t the plan at all.
She glared at Zoey as her last finger dropped, but the effect was lost behind the mask of her balaclava. Zoey hauled the door open, and it was now or never.
Cally stepped swiftly inside, as the man stirred. She was behind him, his feet were up on the desk, his chair tilted. It snapped upright as he kicked off and turned, and there was no time for hesitation. One hand grabbed his head, pulling it back, while she snaked her arm around his neck and squeezed.
He was a big man, maybe six foot when standing, half muscle and half fat. But as he flailed at her arm and gasped for breath, it was obvious her strength far exceeded his.
Which is kind of cool. No, that’s just wrong.
She eased up in a moment of doubt, and the man wheezed; a rasping, panicked sound that triggered a surge of guilt.
Zoey drew her attention from the door and tapped her watch.
Cally grimaced, and shoved her emotions aside, tightening her grip once more. Half a minute later, the man went limp in his chair.
“He’s going to wake up with a sore throat, but he’ll be fine,” Zoey said, in a surprising show of reassurance.
“I know.” Cally stared at the unconscious man as Zoey secured him with zip ties like she’d done it before. “God, I could’ve broken his neck.”
“Not without a yank,” she said, finishing up. “In fairness, you cut his airway off with pressure on his throat. It would’ve been faster, and more comfortable for him, if you’d used a blood-choke hold instead.”
Cally blinked twice. “What?”
“Carotid arteries on both sides, right?” Zoey mimed an arm around a neck. “Squeeze one with the bicep, the other with the forearm,” she said, pointing with her other hand. “Ten seconds, all done, and out for longer.”
“Uh, useful to know. I think.”
Zoey grabbed the mouse, clicking a few buttons, and the screens went dead. “Cameras off,” she said into her mic, then picked up a security badge from the desk by its lanyard. “And this is what we came for.” She gave Cally a nod. “Go get your beau, huh?”
Cally tore her gaze from the unconscious guard. “Right. Yes.”
Zoey tossed her the lanyard, and together they went back outside. Noah and Tom were waiting, their postures relaxed and casual, and Gabe strode up with Ryan.
“All done, no fuss,” Ryan said.
“Is that dog alive?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, we tranqed it. Gonna wake up with a hell of a case of the munchies.”
Gabe nodded to the electronic keypad with the card slot. “Cally?”
“Right.” She walked up and slid the card in, and the display lit up with a blinking cursor. “Shit. We don’t have the code, do we?”
“No, but we figured it wouldn’t work. That’s why we have a plasma cutter,” Ryan said, waving over two of the other thralls. “Give them some space.”
One of the men wheeled a generator about the size of a large cooler, with a cable running to the torch. The other pulled a welding visor down over his balaclava.
“That looks heavy-duty,” Cally muttered.
The man crouched by the generator and fired it up, and a noise like three angry lawnmowers broke the still of the night.
Cally wasn’t the only one to back up. “How far away will that be heard?”
“Who cares?” Noah sniffed. “No one ever comes running for a car alarm, you think they will for a racket like this?”
