Page 67 of Trapped Truth

“I’m five miles away from the people I love, asshole. What good is that?”

“You’re close by if we need a quick exit. Suck it up.”

“It’s dark and fucking freezing,” Hyland adds from the front seat. “At least you’re warm in the backup vehicle, pup.”

“Stop trying to comfort me.”

Bent in half to avoid hitting his head on the metal roof, Blaine tucks a gun into his holster. “Let’s move. We’ve got eight and a half minutes until meet time.”

“Copy that,” Warner acknowledges. “Lead the way.”

“Be safe,” Axel pleads.

The three of us clamber from the van’s rear while Hyland locks up the empty cab, leaving it parked on a discreet side street. We’re in a small town a couple of hours out from the city. Less human traffic to deal with, given half the country’s population has invaded London for the annual fireworks display.

While we’ve spent the odd lull between Christmas and New Year’s resting, recuperating and preparing for this raid, I’m not sure any of us feel ready for what lies ahead. There’s only so many scenarios you can play out while training. The rest is unknown.

“Where’s this rendezvous?” Warner blows out a tense breath.

Jaw set, Blaine glances at his phone. “Close. Stay sharp.”

Lit roads slick with freshly set ice absorb our footsteps, preventing any echoing in the night. In the distance, drunken voices hoot and catcall. You’re never far from a pub even in the suburbs. Everyone will be out tonight, drinking into the small hours to see in the new year.

“The shop is a couple streets over.” Axel’s voice rings with nervous anticipation. “Run me through the plan one more time.”

Hyland tucks his chin, talking discreetly into the comms. “Ember and I will enter to initiate contact. Blaine and Warner will follow our tracking beacons once we’re on the move then approach in a slingshot manoeuvre.”

“Are we sure about splitting up?” Warner frets.

Leading the group, Blaine gestures for us to cross the road. “We discussed this. If the seller is spooked, we’ll lose our one shot. News will spread about a potential sting, and we won’t get another chance.”

“It still seems like a needless risk.”

“Our faces are too well known,” Blaine refutes. “It has to be Ember and Hyland. Even that’s a huge risk, given our public profile as a team. But it’s the best option we’ve got.”

Raye explained that our identities will be confirmed by a scout before we’re taken to the real meeting place. Or more accurately, the identities she crafted for the benefit of our cover story. It’s taken a lot of work to make tonight happen, most of it done behind the scenes. I’m still not sure how she pulled it off in time.

“What if we’re recognised?” I whisper under my breath.

“Then the deal’s off.” Hyland delivers a curt, clipped response. “We split. Fast.”

“They might be hostile.”

“I’ve got your back, red. Nothing will happen to you.”

“We all go home in one piece.” Warner’s head turns on a swivel, the sound of drunken antics growing louder as we near the adjacent street. “This is it. Be safe.”

He turns on his heel then marches away with Blaine in lockstep like we’re total strangers passing on the street. Seeing them go tugs at my heartstrings, but I shove the emotion to the furthest corner of my brain and focus up.

Around a sharp bend, there’s an array of open shops. Two takeaways, a bustling pub brimming with customers and a small, off-license shop at the far end of the road. That’s our target.

Checking to ensure my braid is in place under my baseball cap, the flesh-coloured earpiece is fully covered for another layer of protection. Thankfully, the weather is on our side. Thick coats hide the bulge of armoured vests, Kevlar and holsters.

To a casual onlooker, we could be mistaken for a couple enjoying the cool night air ahead of the countdown to midnight. Especially when Hyland takes my hand, pulling me in close. I doubt it’s purely for strategy.

He squeezes my fingers then releases me to open the shop door. I wipe my boot-covered feet on the welcome mat before stepping in, surveying the various shelves. The liquor section appears to be located at the back.

“Stay here,” I murmur.