Page 110 of Arranged Obsession
Our men boil over the fencing. They toss rugs over the barbed wire and climb it. Others rush in through holes they clipped along the backside. The Russians are realizing something’s happening now, and a few of the smarter guards begin to try organizing a resistance.
I kill them. Slowly, methodically, not missing a single shot. I blow holes in their heads, make my enemies disappear. It’s so easy from this distance, like deleting an unwanted photograph.
Point and shoot. Another corpse on my tally.
I kill and kill. The Russians fire back at Seamus’s square, but they’re terrified and in shambles. Their resistance only lasts a few minutes before Seamus drives them back into the trucking depot while a few of his trusted men get behind the wheel of the truck. They close the back and begin driving the shipment out of there.
The Russians don’t like that one bit. They try to mount a counterattack, but I keep them pinned down.
“Easy as pie,” Seamus says, sounding high on bloodlust. “Fuckers had no chance.” The truck rumbles back out the gate, swerving slightly and scraping against the poles, sending sparks showering into the air. The remaining Whelan soldiers retreat back over the fence as I kill a few more Russians stupid enough to poke their heads out of hiding.
What’s done is done. I pull back, packing up my rifle. It breaks down quickly, and a minute later, I’m scaling back down to the alleyway below. I don’t have long—the Russians will start sweeping the area soon—but they won’t catch me.
I hit the ground, adjust the strap of my gun bag, and start walking casually away.
“All good?” I ask through the earpiece.
“Better than good.” Seamus sounds elated. “This fucking truck ispackedwith the good stuff. I’m talking high-grade heroin. My guys are testing it now, and they are very pleased.”
“We’re talking a multi-million shipment.”
“Tens of millions, most likely. This is a fucking jackpot.”
“Russians are going to beveryeager to get this back.”
“We’ll see about that. I might want to keep a taste. You know, for my trouble.”
“Whatever you need, brother.”
“See what we can accomplish when we work together?”
I smile to myself, feeling strong and proud. “Damn right. Glad I’m back in the fold.”
“See you back home.”
The connection goes dead. I take out the earpiece and shove it into my pocket, grinning to myself.
I can’t remember the last time I worked a job with other people. I’ve been a solo hunter, working from the shadows, scaring the shit out of New York with my ruthless kills. Normally, I get up close and strangle my victims.
Tonight was different. I was a part of something bigger. A cog in a machine raining hell down on my enemies.
And I fucking liked it.
I didn’t know working with my brothers could feel this good.
Honestly, I didn’t know it could feel like anything at all.
My car’s parked about ten minutes south. I take my time and make a phone call as I head in that direction, enjoying this newfound sense of accomplishment.
“What do you want?” Taras’s voice sounds hushed, like he’s whispering. I can hear laughter in the background. I’m guessing he’s at some fancy party right now with all his powerful Russian friends while I’m out on the street fucking him deep in his puckered little ass.
“Out to dinner?” I ask gruffly. “It’s funny. I’ve always found when there’s an important shipment coming through, it’s better to be there in person.”
A short pause. I hear him cursing quietly in Russian and the noise of the restaurant fades. “What the fuck did you do?” he snarls.
“It’s mine now, Taras. What’s your father going to say when he hears that you fucked this up?”
“I’m going to cut your goddamn throat.”
