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And I hate going in blind… but not as much as I’d hate losing two more of mine to Austin motherfucking McKenna.
“We’re coming,” I grit out. “Isaac’s on his way too.” I make eye contact with Logan and he holds up four fingers, so I tell her, “Four minutes out.”
“Okay,” Payton gulps before repeating it like she’s trying to make herself believe it, “okay. We can… we can… hold them off. There’s at least… six.”
Shit.
Payton sounds either winded or hurt, and another quick pop of gunfire in the background has my gut clenching, worry filling me up faster than the busted pipe that flooded our basement two years ago.
I shove it aside and refocus.
“Do that,” I tell Payton grimly, knowing damn well it’s not the kind of order she can promise to follow even though two Reapers are worth more than six weasels any day. “We’re coming.”
It feels like both an eternity and way fucking faster than the four minutes Logan gave me until that’s true, but when we roll up to the last location Payton gave us—an intersection with a liquor store on one corner and an empty lot surrounded by chain link on the other—it’s empty.
“Fuck,” I bite out, not surprised since my people are clearly running for their damn lives, but still pissed at the whole fucking situation. “Update?”
I’m asking my seconds, because somewhere along the way the call with Payton dropped
“Isaac’s three blocks west,” Logan tells me. “He says there’s no sign of them.”
“Company coming yet?” I ask as we throw open the Escalade’s doors and all three of us pile out.
No, all four of us.
“Get the fuck back in the car,” I snap at Riley, which gets her back up for all of two seconds. Then, shocking the shit out of me, she gives me a small nod and actually fucking does it. Without even arguing.
It’s the first thing that’s gone right so far.
Logan telling me no on any incoming police presence is the second, but that’s not gonna last forever. Not with as much gunfire as I heard in the background before I lost touch with Payton. We’re right on the edge of West Point territory here, so it’s not like that shit is uncommon, but Cliffton is close enough to areas that the cops actuallydopay attention to that it will still draw attention.
We just need to find our people before that attention comes with sirens and lights.
Another spate of gunfire sounds, and Dante uses the fob to lock down the Escalade as the three of us take off in a dead run, heading toward the problem.
Logan is still on his phone and confirms that Isaac heard the shots fired too. Then he tosses me the phone, the call still connected.
“Head up Jefferson,” I bark into the phone, naming a street Isaac and his crew should be close to. If I’m right and he hauls ass, we might be lucky enough to cut off the six West Point fuckers Payton noted and get her and Luis out.
We’re not that lucky.
I hear Luis shout something from up ahead and shove the phone into my pocket as the street in front of us turns into a motherfucking shooting range. Looks like the fucking weasels are working together to box Payton and Luis in.
“Shit,” Dante shouts, pulling his weapon as he ducks for cover and opens fire.
The West Point shitheads scatter, diving for cover of their own as they realize we’ve flanked them and that our people aren’t quite the easy pickings they’d assumed.
Payton shouts that she’s out of ammo, and Luis lays down some cover fire when I direct them toward an alley off to the side. It would be a deadly place to get trapped if we let McKenna’s people get to them, but we won’t. Isaac has finally shown up from the west with two more Reapers in tow, and a couple carloads of extra bodies I called in for additional backup made it here, parking down by the Escalade and pounding up the street toward us.
The odds are now in our favor. Odds aren’t enough, though. Not during a shootout with lead flying in all directions like this.
“Isaac,” I shout, giving him some hand signals to coordinate going on the offensive.
He nods, turning to call out my instructions to the men behind him, and we all advance on the alley Payton and Luis ducked into.
The narrow street fills with the deafening echo of gunfire, filling with enough smoke to make visibility a fucking problem for a moment. It gives a few of the West Point fuckers the chance to make a break for it.
I wouldn’t mind taking them out, but it’s enough to drive them away. All I care about today is getting my people out of this alive, and for that, we need to get them away from that fucking alley so we can extract Payton and Luis.
