Page 66 of Cash

I pulled up a mental image of the blueprint. “There are two French doors into the sunroom and a door into the laundry room. We’ll enter through the laundry. Where are the cameras?”

“Already on a loop of nothing.” Kira snickered like she was offended. “Theo and Easton already checked in. There’s nothing at the shopping center. They’re holding their position.”

“And the warehouse?”

“No cameras. Smith and Jonas are still fifteen minutes out.”

Zane pulled off of Arlington Boulevard and hooked a swift left into a church parking lot.

“We’re on foot from here,” Zane told Kira. “Switching to comms.”

“Copy.”

Kira disconnected. I pulled my earbud out of my pocket and inserted it. After tapping my body armor under my tee, I got out of the SUV and met Zane around back.

“Ready?”

After another mental check all my gear was in place, I nodded.

Carrying a suppressed sidearm was never comfortable, but in a neighborhood with houses close it was the best way to give us time to escape before the neighbors called the police. Of course, that went out the window when the bad guys started shooting back.

“Seven, are you there?” I called in to Kira.

“Good copy, Six.”

Zane followed with a comm check and made our way out of the parking lot.

Just two armed dudes out for a stroll in the middle of the afternoon through an affluent neighborhood.

Nothing to see here.

We were three houses down from Damion’s when Zane grumbled, “Not even a curtain has moved.”

I knew what he was talking about. Not a single resident had peeked through a window or come out of their house to ask why two men who obviously didn’t belong there were walking down their street. Not that the confrontation would’ve been welcomed, but damn, these people lived like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Maybe that’s how normal people live.

“We have no cover,” I noted, taking in Damion’s house.

“Nothing like a little shock and awe in the middle of the afternoon.”

Zane sounded positively excited about the possibility of bedlam.

The Snake promised to sink his fangs into anyone who’s mean to you.

Cara had no idea what a true statement that was. Zane had already demonstrated he had zero issue with tearing a man’s throat out with his teeth—been there, seen it, and I had no interest in having to explain to Ivy that Zane didn’t return home with me because he was getting yet another tooth fixed—true story.

“Seven, we’re on approach,” Zane called in to Kira.

“You’re clear on both sides.”

We quickly darted between the houses—no bushes, no fences, no cover.

I stopped at the door, tension wrench and rake already in hand ready to pick the lock. Zane covered my six with his back to the brick, suppressed Sig unholstered and at the ready.

I felt the tumblers click, and with one last turn of the wrench, the lock unbolted. I pocketed my kit and replaced it with my Glock. Slowly I opened the door, listening for the telltale beeping of an alarm.

Instead, I was met with grunts and whimpers.