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There’s a long pause, and I wonder if they know all these guys’ voices well enough to know Brian isn’t one of them, but then there’s another crackle and the voice says, “Come back up.”
“Copy that,” Brian says, then disconnects.
“Copythat?” I ask, arching a brow.
Brian shrugs. “I don’t know what these assholes say to each other. Best not to stand out too much.” He heads for the elevator.
“Brian…”
He turns, expectantly.
“We could just go. We could get them later.”
He shakes his head. “No, we can’t. Now is the best opportunity. We’re never going to get this chance again. You don’t massacre an entire entourage of guards and then get a second chance.”
“But… that boy…”
“I’ll do everything I can not to kill him. I promise. That has to be enough. Are you coming?”
When I move in his direction, he turns and strides to the elevator, jabbing the button like he’s mad at it, but I know he’s just buzzing with the same adrenaline I am at the uncertainty that awaits us on the top floor.
The elevator slides open and we walk inside and turn to face the door. He takes my hand in his, and the door slides closed. It’s somehow even quieter in this enclosed metal box than it was in the lobby. I take a deep breath as I watch the numbers light up going all the way to the top, feeling the steady warmth of Brian’s hand in mine.
We’re barely out of the elevator when we come upon the lone remaining guard. He’s surprised to see us. Clearly he bought that Brian was one of their team. Brian drops him with two bullets before he can even go for his gun. More fireworks explode outside, but we’re too close for gunfire to blend in with the festivities. The element of surprise is long gone.
A door opens, and one of the targets comes out to see what’s happening. His gun isn’t even drawn. He probably isn’t accustomed to using it with so much protection around him. I turn and fire three shots. Two of them go into him, and he falls, but one barely grazes his ear before embedding in the wall behind him.
“Mina, down!”
I drop down at Brian’s voice as two throwing stars whiz over my head in quick succession. Then I hear a grunt, a gurgle, a heavy thud, followed by warm sticky blood spraying on me as a man grabs at his throat trying to stem the flow. But it’s futile. One of the stars hit his carotid.
I stand back up and turn. Before I can fully think the phrase:just one more, I turn to find Brian jumping in front of me. I don’t process the gunshot until he’s on the ground. I cry out, but raise my gun and fire at the man who just shot Brian—our third and final target. He crumples to the floor, and I stride over and put two more in his head for good measure.
I rush back to Brian and roll him over, searching for the injury. He’s covered in blood, and I can’t see through my tears.
“Brian? Brian!” I shake him.
He coughs. “Calm down. Let a guy catch his breath.”
There’s so much blood. I’m still looking for the wound and how to stop the bleeding when his hand covers mine. “Shhhh. It’s not my blood. It’s that guy.” He jerks his head to the side, and I see that he fell into the pool of blood created from the man who just bled out from the throwing stars.
I shove Brian’s black T-shirt up and peel the flattened bullet off the Kevlar vest.
“I can’t believe these things really work.”
“Science!” Brian says. “But it still knocks the fucking wind out of you.”
Now that my heartbeat is calming back to normal, I realize we aren’t alone. With dawning horror, I look up to find the boy, tears streaming down his face. How long was he standing there? How much did he see?
Oh God, did he see the throwing stars? And all that blood?
“Hey,” I say softly.
Not sure how well that’s going to work if he just saw me kill people.
The kid turns and runs into the conference room, slamming the door behind him.
12
