Page 76 of Deadly Sights

The warm hand on my fist draws my attention to my queen. Her black eyes are clear, no sign of doubt to cloud her confidence in us and our plan.

The organization’s headquarters stands before us, a low-rise commercial building surrounded by woods.

Through my binoculars, I spy a sleek Audi S8 pulling into the vacant parking lot and a familiar face steps out. “And I thought Jason didn’t know where headquarters’ location was.”

“That’s Jason?” Nadira’s strained voice causes me to glance at her as she stares at the man through her binoculars. Her chest rises and falls at increasing speeds and her nostrils flutter with suppressed rage.

“He’s my handler.”

“Mine, too,” Chelsea says.

“He’s also the man who abducted me from the gas station when I was five.”

“He did what?” I grit.

“I’ll never forget that mole on his face. He’s the asshole.”

All this time, the man I report to has been the person I most wanted to kill for the hell he put Nadira through as a child, the hell she continues to process with the onslaught of her old memories. I do my best to modulate my breathing while my skin heats with the burning desire to leap out of the car and destroy Jason.

“You two need to calm down and remember the plan,” Chelsea says as she pokes her head between me and Nadira.

As much as I resent her presence, I appreciate the warning.

“You’re right. We still have a while to wait for the shot callers to show up and before hell breaks loose.”

“In the meantime, hand me the duffel bag in the back.” I might not like to leave Jason breathing for longer than he deserves, but he won’t escape our wrath. When Chelsea hands me the item I requested, I search until I find the device I need. “I have my earpiece on. Be my eyes while I work.”

Nadira nods and I leave the vehicle. While I act, the thoughts of all the ways I’m compromising our end goal float in my head. If anyone arrives while I tinker with Jason’s car, I’ll have to neutralize them. The downside is the parking lot is in an openarea. Other than the woods, anyone could see me from the office building and ruin our plans. But this is a risk worth taking.

When I return to the car hidden in the woods, tension fills the cab. Minutes tick by into hours with the air getting thicker. My muscles stiffen under the constant strain of being immobile. Never have the stakes been more important. Jason leaves, nothing in his manner giving us reason to worry that our plans won’t go as we expect.

At eleven o’clock, Chelsea says, “It’s showtime.” She hits my and Nadira’s shoulders with more enthusiasm than the moment warrants, but the soreness alerts us to the figures leaving their cars with a determined tread. A few openly carry their shotguns.

“More people took the bait than I thought.” Nadira’s eyes light up with every car that enters the lot.

Over the past months, the three of us have culled a decent number of the hit staff, but none of us put a dent in their overall operations. The organization had a thousand kids when we were at Creative Gifts. I bet they had more staffed across the country. But of the thousand, there were still nine hundred in the system that would have received the information regarding the murder of their parents and headquarters’ location.

“Pull up the feed,” I say.

Nadira opens her laptop and clicks the application showing a live security feed on all the floors as men and women enter the office building to take collective revenge on the puppet masters who destroyed our childhood.

Within half an hour, there’s no one from the back office standing or breathing. I bring Nadira’s hand to my lips. “Are you disappointed we weren’t part of the action?”

“I had enough time to set my expectations appropriately when you pitched the idea.” She shakes her head, but her eyes aren’t telling me the whole truth.

“Well, I heard the plan, agreed to the plan, and still wish I were part of the action.” Chelsea settles against her chair. A grin spreads across her face. “We still have one opportunity to get satisfaction though, don’t we, Nadira?”

“That we do,” she says, and it clicks.

Once she recognized Jason, her priority shifted. I pull up the app for the tracking device I left inside his car.

“That’s a residential neighborhood,” Chelsea points out.

Nadira uses the address to find a street view map of the area.

“We have to be careful in case he’s got the place booby-trapped.” I switch the engine and creep out of the woods to leave for our next destination.

“The last hitter has left the building,” Chelsea informs us.

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