“This is good, it’s what we’ve been waiting for,” Shelly tells me something I already know.
Opening my eyes, I mumble out my orders, “Tell Darwin not to move. I’ll call him shortly, and I want a blow by blow if anything happens. Tell Victor and Clint to watch the house, if this is a trap, I don’t want them getting to Craig and Nicola.”
Shelly nods and rushes out to relay my instructions.
Taking a second to box away all the fucking clutter currently clogging my mind, I pull out my phone. I need to be clear, completely. If I’m not totally on my game, I die. Others die. It’s that simple in my line of work. “Right,” I murmur, and as the word slides off my tongue, my head is back in the game. I’m Kane again. Black Ops. The killer. I’m fucking ready. Pressing the touchscreen of my phone, I place it next to my ear.
It barely rings. “Arlo.”
“Go to Crackers, wait out back and bring King. You’ll know when you’re needed.”
“Got it,” he replies, and I cut the call, immediately dialling again.
“Darwin,” is murmured low.
“Can you see the assignment?”
“Yes.”
“How many are around him?”
“Two. Another four out back. Two in front and four having a heated discussion just inside the entrance,” he explains.
“On my signal, you’ll be able to get to him, extract him safely?” I question.
“Do you need to ask me that?” His soft growl makes me smile.
“See you in ten,” I reply and cut him off.
I double check my gun and walk back into the main house grabbing my leather jacket.
“You’re taking the bike?” Shelly asks, a look of surprise passes over her face.
“Yeah,” I reply grabbing my helmet.
“And me?”
“There’s four out back. Arlo and King.” She nods. “Two with the assignment. Darwin.” Once again she nods. “Two out front. You.”
“Right. And you?” she replies.
“Four inside the entrance.”
“Okay, I’ll do my two then come help.” She smirks.
“Appreciate it.” I grin back, then stride to the garage. Looking between my Kawasaki Ninja and my Honda CBR1000, I sigh. “Sorry, old friend.” The apology makes me grit my teeth as I know what I’m going to do to my Honda. I love my bikes, both black—both dark—just like me. I hate this, but I’ll do what’s needed. Always.
“You ready?” Shelly asks, pulling up next to me on her Ducati.
I nod. “When we get there, watch for my hand signal, then hang back for a moment. When you see me go, take five seconds then you’ll be up, full throttle, to take those first two guys out.” She nods back at me, and I pull on my helmet before riding off.
As I close in on the dark warehouse, I know I’ll only have one chance. It’s late, most of the industrial area around us is quiet. However, the mill next door runs constantly, making a low humming noise. It’s enough to disguise my bike, but in a moment, they’ll hear me. Shelly rides close behind, and we navigate as one, both having already turned our lights off. Just as I come up to the opening, I know they’ll spot me any second, so I wave my right arm out. Shelly backs off slightly, and I pull forward full throttle.
I can’t hear much over the sound of my bike and my helmet, however, I can see the two guards now shouting, running, and their guns are up. I’m about eighty feet from them now applying the break as the bike starts slowing, and as the back end steps out. I lean back until the bike slides out from under me. I can’t see much as I tumble, but I hear the crash of the bike smashing through the huge wooden doors of the building. As the momentum starts leaving me, I reach for my helmet pulling it off. I hear shooting and noise everywhere now. Coming to a stop on my back, I pull my gun out and up and am about to kill the man running toward me when he’s shot from behind, immediately falling to the ground. Shelly tips her imaginary hat at me.
I jump up and run inside the building. Shelly has two men on her, and two approach me. There’s a third at my back. He thinks I’m not aware of his presence, but he’d be wrong.
“You made a mistake coming here,” one of them shouts.
I point at his head and shoot. My aim is true, and I don’t know what these dickheads expected as their eyes widen. Twisting sideways, I shoot the one behind me with my right arm, while pulling my knife out and throwing it at the other guy with my left. It lands in his thigh, and he retaliates firing his gun twice, missing with the first bullet but grazing the side of my face with the second. I throw my spare knife, and it impales him in the gut. As he drops, I spin to the man behind me. I know I didn’t kill him, and I need to clean up. Taking the four steps to reach him, his breathing is shallow as his lungs fill with blood. I don’t blink as I put a bullet in his head and walk the other way, intent on doing the same to his friend. I lean down and pull my knives from his body, cleaning them on his shirt before tucking them away.
I look around, my team are all huddled now, and a few dead bodies litter the area.
“Shelly, call Dean and Brand. Clean up,” I state as my eyes travel further across the expanse of the open warehouse. She nods and moves away pulling out her phone.
“The Assignment?” I ask Darwin.
“Here,” he says, revealing a seven-year-old boy behind him. The kid looks scared shitless. He has a few
