SEVEN
JUNKYARD MASACRE
Saying goodbye to Piper is easier than I expect. She’s in the safest fucking place for the situation, and I truly feel she’ll be just as I left her when I return—unless Bee influences her too much, that is. Her presence calms the raging monster, but for the first time since I’ve known her, that isn’t what I need, so I man the fuck up and kiss her like I’ll never see her again. As I walk away, I leave every speck of decency behind with her.
Lorenzo also gets left behind in the condo down the hall from Killa. He can be a central command base while also adding an extra helping of back-up if anything does come up. He may be old, but he cracked some fucking skulls back in the day, so I trust he can hold his own now, or he wouldn’t be a part of the team.
Ivan is pumped and ready by the time we meet on the runway. His fear fuels his anger, though not necessarily aiming it in the right direction, but that’s what the fuck I’m for. My no-nonsense tone grounds him and points his focus toward the right shit. We spend the first thirty minutes of the flight taking turns changing and arming up in the bedroom before the eight of us huddle together and discuss our plan.
Well, they get their fucking marching orders.
By the time we land in Ft. Lauderdale for the final leg, Ivan’s pinned down Madeline’s location and we’ve formed the first stages of our continuously evolving plan. They’ve set themselves up in a secluded location that’ll only help secure their fucking downfall. Whether anyone currently associated with the Miami crew lives is now completely up to who makes it through our retaliation, which is going to be swift and brutal.
The helicopter blades whir overhead as we sit silent and on alert, armed and fucking ready to make our descent a few miles from where Madeline’s signal is leading us—an old building at the dead end of a dirt road surrounded by long-forgotten junk cars.
“This is your last chance to retreat, Cary,” I say through the headset. “Once we move forward, you’re officially a part of this team.”
“Fully on board, Boss!” he replies, his voice eager. And he should be. I’m paying him a ton of fucking cash, more than the average mercenary rate. “Let’s take these murderous thugs down.”
“That we will.” I chuckle, appreciating his gusto but also recognizing I’m not much different—at least for today. “Prepare to move, everyone.”
We land five miles out from the location, where Lorenzo has already arranged for an SUV to be awaiting us. I’m grateful when the roaring blades finally fall silent, and as my men transfer our gear, I give the pilot his orders for the rest of the mission. “Remain here, but be ready to leave on a moment’s notice. We might need to swiftly converge on another location or make a quick getaway.”
“Yes, sir,” the old pilot says with a firm nod. “The cash from this score will set my wife and me up for life, so you can count on me.”
“You won’t have a life if you fail.” My glare is cold and menacing. “But I’ll be sure to include a retirement bonus if you serve me well.”
I turn, refusing to entertain more useless conversation. It’s a risk any time you include an outsider in a mission such as this, but paid help is the best I can do under these fucking urgent circumstances, and wads of cash speak real goddamn loudly.
Everyone else is already in the SUV awaiting my arrival, and I slip into the passenger seat with bloodlust surging through my veins. The ride is tense and quiet as I fuse myself with the monster and become one unstoppable force.
“Pull off here and hide the vehicle in the brush.” I point to an exceptionally lush area not soon after we turn onto the dirt road. “We can’t have a passerby noticing the abandoned car and alerting anyone of our arrival.”
It takes twenty minutes to stash the vehicle and reach the outer edges of the abandoned junk yard. We wind past rows of old rusty cars with grass and trees growing out of them in some cases, and in others, almost completely covered by tall, dry grass.
Ducked behind an old Beetle, we get our first clear view of the building. It’s smaller than I anticipated and realizing that sends a shot of adrenaline zinging through me. Smaller means less places to scatter and easier to pick motherfuckers off. It also means Madeline won’t be as hard to find, and her signal is even giving us the general area of the building.
You got to fucking love modern GPS accuracy—especially Ivan’s top-notch shit.
Speaking of Ivan, he’s antsy as fuck, ready to charge in spraying bullets at everyone. The only thing keeping him in check is the reminder that he may accidentally hit Madeline if we aren’t careful.
I motion for the rest of the men to move the fuck back and give Cary space to work as he sets up his equipment. This is what he’s here for, after all. I’ve seen his work, and when it comes to the gadget-y shit, he knows what it takes to fill us in on how many fucks we’ll be facing—not that we’ll know if any of them are Harold or William until we’re inside and facing them.
He whistles as he studies a bunch of lines and blobs on his laptop screen. “Looks to be under heavy guard.” He jabs a few keys and checks some more charts before turning to me. “I can’t give an exact number, but it looks like there’re a lot of heat signatures coming from inside the building.”
“I
