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I watched him go before returning back to where Mal waited with Cap. “Spread the word. Find Cezary’s little girl and make sure she isn’t hurt, no matter what.” Mal nodded and began to type up some texts. Our men were spread out across the neighborhood, small groups of three and four, all of them preparing themselves to move on my command.
“The house looks solid,” Mal said. “I did a drive-by earlier.”
“Balestra knows the game. He knows we’ll come for him sooner or later. But he doesn’t realize Cezary’s going to watch the back.”
“And when he runs?” Mal asked.
“We’ll catch him.” I glanced at Cap and she looked determined.
Good. I needed her sharp. I needed all of them sharp.
“Are you two ready?” I asked as my phone began to buzz. Texts from my team leaders. They were in position and prepared. The sun was dipping down in the horizon, sending long shadows of orange and pinks.
Balestra wouldn’t expect a dusk attack.
“I’m ready,” Mal said.
“I’m ready too,” Cap said.
“Then let’s get moving.” I climbed behind the wheel of the SUV.
Mal kissed Cap. He said something I couldn’t hear and she nodded and kissed him again. They lingered before Cap climbed into the passenger side seat and Mal strode off to get into his truck.
“You good?”
“I’m good,” she said, staring straight ahead. Grim and determined.
“He’ll be okay. Trust me.”
“I know.”
I pulled out. I thumbed a few messages and sent them, just a single word: Move. That was the signal.
We’d planned for this. We’d spent hours yesterday and today going over every detail of the attack. It was straightforward and relied on the fact that Cezary’s information was good and his men would hold their positions. After meeting with him just now, I believed we were solid.
But there was still an itch in the back of my head. We’d done this before and failed once. Balestra escaped and made my life a living hell. Except I was stronger now, thanks to Jules’s father and my own connections growing. I had more soldiers, more weapons, and a bigger reason. Meanwhile, Balestra’s power and influence were at their weakness.
Now was the time. I wouldn’t fail.
I drove faster. Ahead, the neighborhood ended in a cul-de-sac. A house sat up on a small hill down a long driveway fenced in with a big, concrete wall. Small glittering shards covered the top: crushed glass to make getting over more difficult.
We weren’t going over that way.
I pulled out my phone and sent one last text. Breach.
“Watch this,” I said, pulling the SUV to the side. Four more cars appeared behind us, followed by a truck in the very back: it was Mal with an enormous plow strapped to the front of his baby. The plow had been altered, hung with big iron strips and long metal spikes, all of it designed to look insane and menacing, and to be extremely heavy.
The truck roared as it gained speed, barreling toward the gate. A single man standing in the guard house screaming something and raised a gun, but it was much too late.
Mal and his truck rammed into the gate, bashing it over in a massive shower of sparks and shattered, twisted metal. The plow fell halfway off his front fender and scraped along the driveway as Mal gunned the truck on.
I leapt into action. My SUV tore forward, followed by all the others. The poor, stupid guard got out of his gate house and stood overtop the tangled mess, staring around like a moron, and wasn’t able to leap out of the way as I slammed into his body. He made an ugly thudding sound as he was thrown up and over and to the side.
Cap said nothing. I drove on, chasing after Mal.
Gunfire erupted. I found Mal’s truck parked with the side facing a big, plantation-style house with a big wrap-around porch and pretty hanging plants. Men were firing down from the windows, and Mal was pinned and hiding.
I brought my SUV and parked it next to him. Cap ducked down as I jumped out my door. More of my men brought their SUVs and put them in a long row to act as a barrier between us and the men inside.
We returned fire.
The men fell back. We lit the house up like it was a Christmas tree. Bullets screamed through the air, a cacophony of death and violence. Someone screamed, someone shouted in pain. I gestured at Iago and his team to follow me, and we sprinted out into the open and toward the front door. Bullets skittered off the ground all around us, and we barely reached the porch before more men appeared nearby.
I slid down onto my knees, firing at one. I hit him in the gut and knocked him back as the front windows broke out. Iago and his guys fired inside, blindly spilling lead and shell casings all over the place. It was a madhouse, an insanity-laden death knell. I kicked open the front door as Mal charged across to join us while the rest of the men put down covering fire.
