Page 61 of Brooks

Brooks’ look of concern gave me pause. And that irked me, too. “What about you? Are you watching your six?”

I don’t know why I asked him that. I wasn’t going to bring up what I’d overheard but the words slipped out.

“That’s your job. We’re partners, remember?”

“And if it’s me who’s been sent to sink the knife in your back?”

“Not concerned. I trust you.” I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear him say that. “Don’t worry about Max. He has trust issues.”

I was happy he hadn’t played dumb and pretended not to know what I was referring to. It didn’t help knowing Max didn’t trust easily. The bottom line remained, it was me he didn’t have faith in.

“I’ll be careful,” I told him, getting back to the original topic of conversation.

Brooks wordlessly let go of me and I exited the car. I had less than a block to walk before the house came into view. It was dark and there were plenty of places for someone to hide. Unease crept in and I just wanted to hurry and pick up whatever Leon had sent me to retrieve.

When I approached the house, an older man was waiting outside. He immediately handed me a black rifle case.

“Everything is there,” he told me.

“Thanks.”

I slowly turned my back on the man and hoped like hell he wasn’t planning on shooting me as I walked away. Though I knew Brooks was out there somewhere, I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. The thought made me smile. There was no way Brooks would let me walk into an unknown situation and not have his scope trained on the man I was meeting.

Maybe it should’ve annoyed me. I’d been going at this alone for a long time. I was more than capable of handling myself. Though I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head and wouldn’t know if I was getting ready to take two to the skull.

That was a lovely thought. Great job I had. Most people went to work and the only thing they had to worry about was a paper cut or maybe at worst a slip and fall. Me? Bullets, blood, and mayhem were only the tip of my worries.

I slipped into the back seat of the car at the same time as Brooks got behind the wheel. Just as I’d thought, he followed me.

“See anything?” I asked, unzipping the soft, padded rifle case.

“He had a spotter. Top-floor window.”

“He’s an arms’ dealer. I suppose that is normal,” I reminded him. “Hey, you got a pen light up there?”

Brooks handed me back a small LED flashlight. I clicked it on and inspected the contents of the case.

“What’d they give you?” Brooks asked.

“A .338 Lapua. Ziess optics,” I told him.

“Sweet rig.”

He wasn’t wrong. The .338 bolt action was a pretty rifle, my favorite as a matter of fact. Though if I had my choice, I would’ve switched out the optics for a NightForce scope. Beggars can’t be choosers and I wasn’t the one who’d purchased the set-up. Which got me thinking.

“Who do you think funds The Company?” I asked Brooks, as I continued to inspect the rifle.

“My guess would be it comes out of the congressional fund, earmarked for something else. You know the bullshit games our government plays with our tax dollars.”

“What the fuck?” I muttered, shining the flashlight down the bolt carrier group of the rifle.

“What?”

“There’s no fucking firing pin,” I told him.

“Come again?”

“Those motherfuckers. They removed the firing pin.”