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I placed the phone between my shoulder and cheek and threw my clothes in the laundry basket.
“Can you pleeeease come to Uncle Ellie’s later so I can show you what I learned at swim practice yesterday? Please, please, pretty please?”
I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my jaw. Me, showing up at Elliott’s fucking housewarming barbecue? That was the last thing I needed. I wanted to throw my ass on the couch with a six-pack of beer and get lost in shitty movies. I’d half contemplated heading into work just to have something that could distract me.
“Puh-puh-puh-please, Daddy…?”
Goddammit.
“Does your mom really think that’s a good idea?” I asked reluctantly.
“She thinks it’s the best idea!”
Somehow, I doubted that.
Elliott would definitely not like my showing up.
Blake cranked up the pitiful tone that made me cave. “Don’t you wanna see what I learned?”
Real nice, throw in all the guilt.
“All right. I’ll be there.” At the very least, I’d get some hugs from her.
“Yay! It’s gonna be the best barbecue ever!”
Uh-huh.
* * *
“Just let us know if someone tries to contact him on the radio,” Darius commanded. “Until then, they have no reason to be suspicious.”
Elliott and I darted up to the back of the warehouse, taking cover in the darkness, and we ran the length of the structure to see if any of the rusty metal sheets was loose.
The extraction had barely started, and my head was already fucked from what the younger guys had just accomplished.
Reese came up behind us. “Cameras angled to cover the spots where Joel and Ryan are supposed to overlook the courtyard, so once you get there, it’s on.”
“Copy that.” I bent down and tugged at a piece of metal protruding from the wall, but it wouldn’t budge. Fuck, I would’ve wanted to at least confirm they were keeping Blake and Marisa in the warehouse. “No way of knowing the precise location of Blake and Marisa yet.” In other words, we couldn’t blow up the main house and be done with it. “Proceeding to the corner—update, Ryan?” I inserted an earplug where I didn’t have an earpiece.
“Coming up behind the terrace now,” he confirmed. “We have eyes on nine targets in the main house. No signs of hostages—or space to keep anyone restrained. Four bedrooms on this side, doors open, lights on, living room and dining area, kitchen, possible office, mood’s relaxed. Some playing cards, some eating. We don’t see Carillo yet, but there should be a few rooms on the front too.”
“Then you stay there with Ortega,” Elliott said, changing the plans. “Joel and I will attack from the courtyard. You, Ortega, and Crew take out anyone you can shoot from where you are.”
“Hold up—unit two doesn’t mean we’re fuckin’ backup, Jones,” Reese replied. “River and I will charge when you charge. We’ll go for the warehouse.”
“Fine,” Elliott bit out. “Let’s go. Ryan?”
“Ready—”
“Wait,” Crew whispered. “Snipers, you have high-caliber rifles, right?”
I furrowed my brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said.
“Okay, I just wanted to make sure. Go on,” Crew answered.
What the— Fuck it. We didn’t have time. Blake could be on the other side of the thin wall right behind me.
