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A chill swept across my body. No, I wouldn’t let that happen.
“We can’t put off the plan,” I announced, moving to grab the bags in the corner. “It’smyfault that any of this is happening. The locals shouldn’t suffer any more because of what I did.”
Rafael frowned. “Are you sure you want to do this? Right before you’re supposed to perform—”
“We have to,” I interrupted. “We have to end this stupid war once and for all and show them thatthey’rethe ones who are going to pay. We’ll just do it fast.”
It’d take a half hour simply to get back to Hobb Creek. We were going to be cutting it so close—and I couldn’t rush through the plan without getting every piece in place, or it’d flop and we’d end up worse off than before.
But there simply wasn’t any other option. The gang had decided their fate.
Better that I let down Niko and Jasper with a late arrival than bring the wrath of a bunch of rabid wannabe gangsters down on the entire local skating establishment.
Rafael didn’t wait to be told again. He grabbed the rest of the bags and rushed after me out of the motel room to the waiting car.
I ducked back in to snatch up my equipment bag, which thankfully I’d already packed for the competition, and heaved that in the back of the car. Rafael dropped into the driver’s seat, and I didn’t bother arguing about who would take the wheel.
All that mattered was getting to the gang’s hideout ASAP.
Rafael turned the key in the ignition, and the car rumbled to life. “We’ll make it work. If those bastards aren’t pissing their pants and running for the hills by the time you’re done with them, they’re certifiably braindead.”
I glanced over at him as he hit the gas, with a flutter of warmth rising through the tension that gripped me. We might have had our conflicts since coming to Hobb Creek, but I knew without a doubt now that this man was my rock in the storm, the person I could count on no matter what hell we faced.
He gunned the engine all the way to Hobb Creek, veering around the few other cars on the country highway at a breakneck pace. I pulled on the one piece of equipment I could prepare this far in advance over my head and let the thick fabric of the sort-of poncho settle over my arms. Then I tapped my foot against the floor, my mind leaping ahead to every stage of the not-at-all-beautiful performance I intended to orchestrate just for our enemies.
Rafael only slowed the car slightly when we came around town to where the storage buildings sprawled. He parked behind a warehouse a short distance from the gang hideout where we wouldn’t be seen making our final preparations.
I leapt out of the car the second it stopped moving and flung open the trunk. First things first—I tugged on my ski mask and tossed another to Rafael.
“Grab your stuff and get over there.”
His mouth twisted. “I don’t like the whole splitting up part of this plan.”
“It’s the only way this is going to work.” I shoved the bag with the things he needed toward him. “There’s no time to argue about it. Just get as many of them out of the building as you can.”
As he slung the bag over his arm, my gaze dropped to the bulge of the concealed holster at his hip. “And remember that I don’t want you to shoot any of them—not to kill, anyway. Not if you can help it.”
“Yes, boss,” Rafael said in a dry tone. “You are definitely not your mother.”
I managed a breathless laugh. As he loped off, I stuffed my own supplies into my backpack, getting a whiff of a heady chemical scent that made my eyes water. I tossed the bag onto my back and clutched my fingers tight around the gas mask I’d left in my hand.
With frantic steps, I hustled around the side of the warehouse to where I could see the back of the storage building. A couple of men were standing guard by the rear door, slouched and scowling.
Rafael would have gone around front. I just needed to wait until he—
The first hiss and boom of a firework punctuated his arrival. From my current position, I couldn’t make out the parking lot, but the crackle of breaking glass suggested he’d aimed well, right at one of the gang’s cars.
We really were making them go through a whole lot of vehicles. This time we’d need to leave at least a few for them to flee in.
“Hey, assholes!” my bodyguard bellowed. “Come get a taste of this!”
More shrieks and bangs reverberated from the roman candles he was carrying. The thugs at the back door looked up with matching expressions of shock and then took off to see what the hell was going on.
The yells carrying from the front of the building suggested a fair number of other goons had stormed out from that doorway as well. Good. Now was the time to make my move.
I sprinted from the warehouse to the back of the storage building. The chaos from up front covered the pounding of my footsteps.
I snatched at the door, already reaching toward my sock for my pins—but the knob turned in my hand.
