Page 71 of Damon

“That it is, McKinney. And now we have a connection to the chain of command of who killed Connie. Every single one of them will pay. We will take the bastards out one by one.”

***

Connor opening the passenger door of my car brings me back to my present situation, sitting outside the launderette. He climbs into the seat beside me and slams the door closed.

“Anything happening?” he asks.

“Nothing, just a few people loading laundry. Where is everyone?”

“Russell, Hunter, and Greyson are at the gym. They’ll be here in twenty minutes. Harrison has been delayed at the office with a client; I doubt he’ll be here.” Connor chuckles under his breath. “He is very upset at missing his first stakeout.”

“Not exactly a stakeout,” I say. “But I suppose for a guy used to wearing a five thousand dollar suit every day and talking in riddles, this is exciting. Sitting in a back street in London watching people wash their underwear.”

“I think Harrison fancies himself as the next Liam Neeson. You know, the man that fights crime. Steals from the rich to give to the poor and all that shit.”

“Is that not Robin Hood?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“Who cares, I just want to get home to a beer tonight. Hunter is very excited about the possibility of hand-to-hand combat.” I roll my eyes at him. “Russell too. Greyson, well, he’ll do as he’s told.”

“Greyson will mop up Hunter’s mess you mean?”

“That too,” he agrees.

As we speak, I keep my gaze focused on the launderette. The sun has started to descend, and night is falling across the city. I watch as the elderly gentleman serving customers walks to the front door of the store. He has a long pole in his hand which he uses to reach up and pull the metal door shutter down halfway.

The purpose of our visit this evening is surveillance primarily, to add faces to our hit list. To populate the bastard database with names of all those involved with Samson Moreno and Roger Brenton. If we can save a few innocent lives in the process or protect someone from harm, that will be a bonus.

Just then, a van pulls up opposite the launderette; I recognize Luke sitting in the passenger seat. A large man is in the driver’s seat; he steps out and walks around to the door at the side. After sliding it open, three men all dressed in black step out onto the pavement. The five men stand together in a circle, and they each pull on a balaclava.

“Message Hunter,” I tell Connor. “They need to be here, now.”

A moment later, a large dark jeep pulls up behind the van. Moreno appears from the rear of the car and joins the group of men. He glances around but seems completely comfortable standing in the middle of the city with five men with their faces covered. It is obvious that events are moving fast.

The group of men disband; three of them walk across the road in the direction of the launderette, while Moreno and the others walk to the rear doors of the van out of our line of sight. The group of three duck under the half-closed shutter and disappear into the store.

Connor’s phone pings, alerting him to a message.

“Put that on silent,” I mutter, and he flicks the button on the side. “Who is it?”

“Hunter. They’re here. Just around the corner.”

“We need to move,” I tell him. “I’ll go and try to see what’s happening.”

“No.” He places a hand on my arm. “Moreno may recognize you. I’ll go.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket, then turns around and grabs a shopping bag that was lying empty on my backseat. He stuffs the jacket inside. “I need to get this laundered,” he says, holding up the bag.

“Keep your phone on so I can hear what’s happening.” I call his mobile and the phones connect to each other, then he places it in his pocket. “Don’t be a hero,” I warn him. “We all want out of here alive.”

“Noted.” He climbs out of my car, then saunters toward the launderette. I watch him cross the road, duck under the shutter and disappear inside. My phone is only a jumble of noises from the rustling in Connor’s pocket. It is not until he stops walking that voices become obvious. Just then, three of my car doors open, and Hunter, Greyson, and Russell climb in.

“What is my idiot brother doing?” Russell growls, his eyes focused on the direction Connor walked.

“Going to see what is happening,” I reply calmly; however, I am anything but. If any of the men in that building know who he is or who he’s connected to, trouble could spark quickly. “Be quiet, someone is speaking.”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Connor says, his voice firm but relaxed. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I would appreciate if you could untie these poor people.”

“Who the fuck are you?” comes the gruff reply.

“No one, just someone wanting to have this laundered.” There is the sound of plastic as if he is lifting and shaking the bag. “However, if you decide to shoot me, I’ll be missed, and the heavy hand of the law will come down on you hard.”

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