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“Is this really as good as it gets, or were you guys shitting me about some of the other new guys getting better jobs lately?”
“Fuck no, we’re not shitting you,” Duke says, scowl back in place but voice hushed as we’re ushered into McKenna’s house. And, unfortunately, straight to him to report on the job, so I’m out of time to pump Duke and Tre for anything else.
“Did Wilson give you any problems?” McKenna asks Duke, some big-chested bitch hanging off his arm who I’ve got no doubt is a replacement for Sienna that he purchased with some of Riley’s money.
“Of course not,” Duke answers him, stifling all that attitude he was displaying in the car and playing the part of the fawning minion to a T.
He gives McKenna a quick rundown of the job we just finished, then we waste another ten minutes while McKenna asks some pointed questions about a few of the details, looking to me and Tre to verify them, as if he’s half expecting to catch his own man in a lie.
Once he’s finally satisfied—and has made it crystal clear with his shit attitude that he doesn’t trust his own people, so is it any fucking wonder that they’re not loyal to him, either?—he thanks us and dismisses us.
McKenna’s new bitch hasn’t said a word this whole time, and we haven’t been given any further orders for the rest of the day either, so I’m about to suggest that Duke and Tre and I all go shoot the shit at a bar the weasels like to hang out at so I can steer the conversation back to what McKenna has the mercs doing, when another group of McKenna’s people burst into the house.
“The fuck?” McKenna snaps as his front door slams open, a weapon in his hand before the echo fades away. His girl makes a fuss, but he ignores her, shoving her aside and tucking the gun out of sight once he recognizes the people. “Why the fuck are you bleeding all over my fucking floor, Benny? It’s goddamn Brazilian Cherry, and I just had it refinished! Do you know how much that shit costs? What the fuck happened here?”
He stomps over to them, ranting the whole way.
Jesus, it’s a shit show. Madd would never handle an incident like this. Of course, we’d never be caught off guard by Reapers bursting in on us when one of them pretty fucking obviously needs medical attention, either. We would have heard about that from the source, and nine times out of ten, Maddoc would be in the Escalade heading to them.
“This is a fucking bullet wound,” McKenna shouts, jabbing his finger into the gore. The one he called Benny goes bleach-white, and almost drops. One of the other weasels keeps him upright, and McKenna spins around to shout at another. “Does this mean you fucked up the job I sent you to do? Who the fuck was shooting at you? Did you deliver my message, or not?”
McKenna’s people can barely get a word in edgewise, but they sure as fuck try, chaos and shouting filling the room. Duke and Tre get right in the middle of the commotion, although whether that’s because they give a shit that this Benny dude looks like he’s trying to bleed out all over the floors McKenna is so fucking attached to, or just because they’re bored pieces of shit who won’t say no to a little excitement is anyone’s guess.
I don’t bother to guess. I know an opportunity when I see one, and I use their distraction to slip away, heading deeper into the house.
I’ve already managed to get an idea of the layout and eliminate a few areas during previous visits, including McKenna’s office, so I move quickly and stealthily to the one area I’m sure I’ll find some gold.
His real command center seems to be a pimped-out space off his bedroom that looks more like that strip club I first found Riley in than a place to actually get work done, but has a bunch of electronics and some locking safes that say otherwise.
I’ve got no doubt that Logan would wreak some serious damage here if he got a chance to hack into all the shit stashed in this room, but I’m banking on the fact that McKenna was raised more old school, like me, and will keep certain information in its original form.
I snap on a pair of gloves I’ve got on me for exactly this purpose, then make quick work of the locks he’s got in place and rifle through his shit. It’s more organized than I’d have given him credit for, a fact I appreciate when I finally hit pay dirt.
“Well, fuck me,” I whisper with a shit-eating grin on my face, keeping my voice down, but—for the first time since leaving Reaper territory—feeling my spirits lift. “Thank you, asshole.”
McKenna has basically dug his own grave by laying out his plans in perfect fucking detail for us, and there’s nothing better than destroying an enemy with his own hand… unless it’s utterly fuckingannihilatingthat enemy for hurting the ones I love.
I skim through quickly, pretty sure it’s goddamn Christmas morning and Santa forgot my coal. The records I’m looking at couldn’t be any clearer that he’s already making machinations against The Six. Getting these into their hands will fucking end him, especially when they see the lengths he’s gone to in order to stay under their radar.
I know for a fucking fact that McKenna’s vendetta against Maddoc is real, but based on what I’m seeing, the fucker is a little smarter than any of us have truly given him credit for, and there’s more to the war he’s waging on us than just taking the Reapers out. He’s been trying to kill two birds with one stone when it comes to attacking our borders, and while one of those birds is definitely laying waste to everything Maddoc’s put his blood and sweat into building, the other… well, from the look of things, part of the reason McKenna’s gone at us so hard is to make sure shit gets messy enough to keep all eyes on the conflict and deflect attention from whatelsehe’s doing with Riley’s money.
He’s been laying groundwork not just to take out The Six as his endgame, but to position himself to do it with a lightning strike—quick and deadly—the moment they finally fucking realize what he’s up to.
He knows he can’t keep them distracted forever, so he’s been hauling ass behind the scenes trying to fortify his strike force and position his organization, so that by the time they do realize the threat, it will already be too late for them to stop him.
“I don’t think so, motherfucker,” I mutter as I quickly snap pics of all the relevant documents, then replace the originals where they were.
Living with Logan and his particular need for order all these years serves me well, and once I have everything back in its place, I guaran-fucking-tee that no one will be able to tell I was even in here.
Which means that once I get this information into The Six’s hands, McKenna is gonna be fucking blindsided when they take him out.
I grin, then send the file to the secure server Logan set up for this exact fucking purpose and slip out of the room quietly. Raised voices confirm that the bullshit up at the front of the house is continuing, so I head in the opposite direction to get in touch with Maddoc real quick. As volatile as the situation has become, he needs to know about it now, not when I can have the pleasure of telling him in person.
“Report,” Madd says, answering on the first ring.
“I got what we need,” I murmur, backing into a little alcove that has some kind of decorative statuary shit in it. I turn my back to the artwork—it’s ugly as shit—and keep one eye on the hallway that leads toward the front of the house everyone’s congregated in while I fill Maddoc in. “It’s just what we thought. He’s planning to go against The Six. I just sent the file.”
I get silence back for a split second. No doubt Madd is having his own Christmas morning moment as he imagines the utter fucking glory of bringing this bastard down and protecting our people. But he moves past it fast, because none of us have the time for that. Not yet.
