Page 58 of Unchained

“All right,” Dare said. “I got it. One guard is stationed inside. Let’s call him guard number one. I can’t see much through the windows with the drone, but the indoor cameras I hacked into show him walking the main floor. Guards number two and three are outside. Numbers one and two already took their breaks. Guard number three should be on his any minute. If we wait until he leaves his post, it looks like we can get in through a side entrance.” He craned his neck to look in the back seat. “Brooks, you and Nash go in. Cole and I will keep lookout from the backyard.”

“We’ll have to kill guards one and two first.” Cole’s stone-cold declaration boomed through the tight space.

Dare turned in his seat. “If we can get in undetected—”

“No.” Cole cracked his knuckles, one at a time. “All it will take is one wrong move for the three of them to come bearing down on us.”

“Vote,” Nash said. “Raise your hand if you want to kill the guards first.”

Cole’s hand lifted. Brooks kept his palms on his knees. Both Nash and Dare checked the back seat, their hands not raised.

“It’s settled then,” Nash said. “We don’t kill unless we have to. Don’t sulk, Cole.”

“I’m not fucking sulking. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you three bozos getting shot in the head or someone seeing your ugly faces.”

Brooks guffawed. He wasn’t the most experienced in this world, but his life over the last eight months surely rivaled all three of theirs. “I’ll take my chances.”

Nash reached into the back seat and dug inside his backpack. “That’s why I got everyone a ski mask.” He tossed a ball of material at Brooks, then passed one each to Dare and Cole.

Brooks fit it on top of his head so it would be easy to pull down when they got close. The rest of the guys did the same.

Dare circled his index finger in the air. “Third guard has left his post and looks like he’s heading to his car out front. Put your earpieces in and let’s go.”

They exited the car and marched over the green space leading to Conrad’s mansion. Their footsteps wisped through the grass. Moths and lightning bugs fluttered in the moonlight. Tension radiated along Brooks’s nerve endings. He’d waited more than eight months to get revenge. To bring his parents’ killer to justice. He hadn’t yet given himself time to grieve, but that moment would come when he had the freedom to visit their graves.

“Did you cut the cameras?” Nash asked Dare quietly.

“Not yet. I’ll do it when we get close to the door. I want us to have more time to get out before they notice. We can stay hidden as long as we stick to the east side.”

Brooks reached the wrought-iron fence first. Bending down, he linked his fingers together, palms upward, and offered the makeshift step to Dare. Dare stepped into his palm, and Brooks hoisted him over. Nash went over next, then Cole. Standing, Brooks gripped the bars. He hauled himself up and over and landed on his feet.

“Shit,” Cole wheezed. “How’d you get over so easily?”

Brooks lifted a shoulder. “Long story.”

Dare watched him curiously, but Nash let out a barely audible laugh. “Let’s go. Side door is to the east.” He nodded ahead. A line of cedars bordered the property’s east and west sides, offering privacy.

Brooks rolled down his ski mask, and the other guys followed suit. Then they hustled, sandwiched between the trees and the fence, Dare in the lead. He held up his fist. “Camera,” he said, pointing behind the branches of a tree. He pulled a device out of his pocket and tapped the screen. “Cameras are disabled.”

Brooks rushed forward, Nash right behind him. He grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. Nash dropped to his knees and inserted the tools from a lock-pick set. In three turns, the metal clicked. Without a word, Nash entered.

The warmth of his own breath bounced off the knit material covering Brooks’s face. There was only a small hole for his mouth. The cool metal of his gun sat heavy at the small of his back. He pulled it out, holding his finger near the trigger and pointing the weapon at the ground. Brooks moved in front of Nash, not turning to see how close he stayed behind him. He had one mission: kill the man who had enslaved him. This was his war now. Visualizing the blueprints, he moved to the end of the hall and paused. The scuff of Nash’s shoes on the floor reached his ears. Nash’s shoulder brushed Brooks’s, but he didn’t pass him.

“Where’s guard number one?” Brooks whispered into the mic clipped onto the cuff of his sleeve.

“Living room, on the phone,” Dare said briskly. “You have a clear path to the stairs if you go fast.”

Brooks pushed away from the wall and turned left down the hall. The staircase loomed. The layout played in his mind. Across from the staircase was the dining room and kitchen. The living room was beyond that. He ascended the stairs. One glance over his shoulder showed Nash hurrying behind him. When he reached the second level, Brooks paused. Nothing but quiet reached his ears.

He pressed on. His heart pumped methodically in his chest. Each beat brought him closer and closer to his target. Nash’s hand rested on his shoulder, anchoring him. Brooks stopped as his gaze landed on the strip of yellow beneath the door that had to be the master bedroom. The drug pulled at his mind. Even though he hadn’t been injected in days, his brain fired off the kind of adrenaline that rushed through him just before one of Leonetti’s tests.

“Listen.” Nash’s quiet voice wrapped around him, preventing him from following his instincts screaming Charge!

Blood pushed through his vessels, ordering him to move. A filmy curtain closed around his vision. No sounds came from the bedroom.

“Guys, we need to hurry,” Dare said. “You’ve got about eight minutes before guard number three returns. Less if guard one spots the cameras.”

Brooks stalked forward, grabbed the cool handle in his palm, and pushed open the door. His gaze fell to a mound in the bed. A man catapulted into a sitting position, his hand pressed down beside him on the hill of blankets. “What the—”

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