Page 66 of Stalk

“Tell them to come outside. Once I fire, I have a feeling all hell is going to break loose.”

Marco grunts. “They know we are here. At the first shot, they will come.”

I sure hope so.After knowing that our people are already here and ready to fight, I take my shot at the person in the truck bed. Unfortunately, I miss them. Within seconds, we’re being shot at by all the cars that surround us. Marco rolls his window down, and I hope Ren does, too. As the three of us begin shooting back and forth with our assailants, I notice a couple more cars pull up.

“Where’s our backup, Marco?” I shout.

“Any minute now!”

There are way too many guns pointed in our direction, and the horrible feeling in my gut intensifies. Marco and I are good at what we do, but we are greatly outnumbered here. The front windshield is barely holding on by a thread now, and I’m about to tell Marco to pull back and drive off when two giant buses pull up in front of the SUV. They form an upside down V, blocking us almost completely from the other vehicles.

Our guys waste no time springing into action.

“What now?” Ren yells.

I’m not entirely sure. We need to make it onto the jet, but the stairs are still up and probably will be until the shooting stalls or stops altogether.

“We wait until the shots die down, and then Marco will drive us closer to the jet. By then, hopefully we can board.”

Marco hums in agreement. “I will call the crew on board to alert them.”

As Marco makes his call, I turn around in my seat. Ren looks intense with their spine steeled and their eyes darting from window to window, watching for shots. Their automatic is back between their legs, but they have a steel grip on it.

“It will be over soon,” I reassure them, hoping my words are true.

They look at me. Cannella whines from where she’s hiding between Ren’s feet. “I can’t believe all of this is because of me. I don’t want you or Marco or anyone else to get hurt—I?—”

I reach forward and place my hand on their knee. “Too bad. We’re in this together now. It’s going to be fine.”

Marco hangs up the phone. “The crew is updated.”

We sit in silence. It doesn’t make me feel good to just sit in this SUV, doing nothing, but going outside or driving in the middle of all the action would be a death trap. That, and it would defeat the purpose of all the hassle we’ve caused this evening.

So we sit until the gunshots become fewer and far between. When it’s been silent for over five minutes, Marco and I decide that now is the best time to move. He puts the car back in drive and swerves around one of the buses, closer to the jet.

The scene before us is utterly grotesque. Some bodies are half-in, half-out of car windows. Others are splayed out on the asphalt. I look at the buses as we drive past, and notice a few shooters still near the windows, ready for round two, should there be one. It’s clear by the various bodies that we may have been outnumbered at first, but that didn’t last once the people in the buses showed up.

“Damn, Marco. How much backup did you call in?” I whisper.

He shrugs. “You can never go wrong with more men, eh?”

Once we’re directly in front of the jet, the stairs come down. Two men disembark and meet us outside to help us with all of our belongings. It almost seems like any other night now, despite all the evidence that says otherwise.

Cannella wastes no time at all once she’s out of the vehicle. She bounds toward the aircraft and up the steps, safely inside. Can’t say I blame her, either.

The two gentlemen walk ahead of us with our luggage. Me, Marco, and Ren follow suit with a few more bags. Ren visiblyshakes beside me, so I brush their hand with my knuckles. I let Marco go up the stairs first, and Ren and I follow behind him.

We’re halfway up when we hear a car brake forcefully behind us. I whip around just in time to see who I can only imagine is Catherine fucking Burdick step out from a sleek black Mustang. Unlike the few henchmen dressed in all black who step out from the car after her, she wears a red jumpsuit.

At least that makes her easier to see in the dark.

In no time, my pistol is out. “Ren, go!” I try to urge them up the steps, but they don’t budge. Instead, Ren moves past me and goes down a couple of steps. “What the hell are you doing?”

They don’t answer me.

Catherine walks closer to the edge of the stairs, a smile full of malice painted on her blood red lips. “Running away, are we?” she asks loudly enough for us to hear.

In a flash, Ren reaches behind me and grabs my pistol from my grasp. They point it directly at her. The assassins on the buses begin shooting at the people Catherine brought with her, but Catherine stays where she’s at. She doesn’t bring out a weapon. She doesn’t even glance behind her.

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