The back end of the Yukon swung wide as we headed for the gated entrance. Jackal looked to the side-view mirror, then back through the rear window.
Muzzle flashes lit up the area like fireflies. Bullets punched the rear door. We slipped through the opened part of the gate and past the guard firing at the passenger side of the SUV.
We tore down the dirt road, swerving and weaving as I wrestled the Yukon under submission.
“I’m not seeing any headlights or vehicles. Looks like we might be good for now,” Jackal said, facing forward in the seat.
I focused on the winding dirt road ahead, trying to keep us from veering off and losing control. Dirt turned to pavement. I jerked the steering wheel counterclockwise and pumped the brake. The SUV turned on a dime. I straightened us out and punched the gas.
We drove down the desolate road, checking for any inbound vehicles closing fast, but spotted none.
Jackal exhaled a deep breath.
My hand adjusted the rearview mirror, then lowered to my side. I patted down my coat, feeling for the map. I reached inside the interior pocket, pulled it out, then handed it to Jackal.
“Our next stop?” he asked, taking the map from my hands.
I nodded. “Salt Lake City. Time to finish this job.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CORY
Domingo’s men escorted us back to the warehouse and out through the side exit. They stayed in the shadows, cloaked by the darkness.
“You better not screw us over,” Antonio said, cold and callously. “If you do, I’ll kill you both myself.” He shoved us out of the side entrance to the sidewalk. We got on the move toward the street.
Anna probed the gash on the side of her head. She pursed her lips and pulled her hand away.
“That went better than I expected,” I said, checking over my shoulder.
“Agreed,” Anna replied, showing me the thumb drive. “We got what we needed, him on our side, and managed to avoid an all-out gunfight. We just need to focus on the next part of this—convincing McCone’s men they’re in the clear.”
“Hopefully they’ll buy it,” I said, skirting the corner of Domingo’s building with Anna beside me.
“I’ll make sure they do.”
We crossed the street in a hurry and rushed down the sidewalk toward the alley. Stocky’s men poked their heads out from the blind corner of the building with rifles shouldered.
Anna slipped by the gunmen with me in tow. They scanned over the street and sidewalk a second longer before falling in line behind us. She flashed the drive at one of the men.
He ripped it from her hand, then flashed it at Stocky sitting in the SUV. He smiled, then nodded.
I made for the back seat with Anna behind me. Stocky’s goon grabbed her arm, then wrenched her around.
Anna jerked her limb free of his hand. He shoved her back against the grille of the SUV, then trained his rifle at her. He reached for her waist, pulling the piece from her waistband.
His partner opened the back door on the driver’s side and forced us inside the cab. I slid across the seat with Anna climbing in behind me.
The door slammed shut, sealing us inside, and the engine roared to life.
Stocky rolled his window down, took the thumb drive from his goon, and held it up in front of him, studying the small, rectangular device. He nodded at his man, then rolled his window up.
Both men moved along either side of the SUV and climbed in through the rear door. They closed the hatch, then took their seats behind us. They stowed their weapons between their legs and sat at ease.
“You know, I’m truly impressed that you managed to get this.” Stocky turned in his seat, facing us. “We’ll need to verify that it’s all good first, mind you, but I’m pleased to see that you didn’t disappoint. Your reputation precedes you. Tell me, did he suffer or did you make it quick?”
“Let’s just say he will no longer be a problem,” Anna shot back without missing a beat. “We also took out his right-hand man. His crew, the few who are left, are scattered.”
Stocky smirked, then looked over at me. He studied our faces for a moment. “Looks like they made you work for this. I didn’t expect it would be an easy task.”
“These sorts of jobs never are,” Anna replied, rubbing the blood from the wound on her head between her fingers.
“The boss man will be pleased. With doing this, you could earn a place in his good graces.” Stocky looked to the driver. “Let’s go. We have what we need.”
The driver shifted into drive, pulled out from the alley, and onto the street. Stocky peered at Domingo’s place, smiling from ear to ear as the driver hooked around the curb and punched the gas.
Stocky lounged in the front passenger seat. His sausage-like fingers rapped against his knee as he watched the gray ash pelt the windshield.
Anna remained silent, staring out of the window. She wiped the blood from her fingers onto the top of her jeans.
I looked straight ahead, watching Stocky bask in false victory. His coy smile would soon be erased.
The trip back to the McCone’s flew by in a blink. We passed through the open gate, and down the brick drive. The driver pulled under the covered driveway leading to the building, shielding the vehicle from the ash. He killed the engine and removed the keys.
Stocky’s men opened their doors and got out of the vehicle. They stood next to the back driver’s side door and opened it.
“Let’s go deliver the goods and the news to the boss man himself,” Stocky said,
