Page 27 of Hostile Rival
I’m quick to react, firing in retaliation and hunkering low, targeting armed guys in normal clothes who gather at the apartment doorway. These mercenaries are amateurs compared to us.
It doesn’t take long for their bodies to pile up and then we’re on the move again, stepping over the dead on our way inside.
We split up, kicking open doors, and shooting into rooms, killing every fucker who’s firing at us. The apartment isn’t that big, but with the amount of men spilling in from fuck knows where, they were expecting company.
“Anyone found the girl?” Scorpion’s voice comes through my earpiece.
“Negative,” I reply, reloading in a dimly lit bedroom, where a few guys are lying in a puddle of their own blood.
“Negative.” Dani whispers, followed by a crack of gunfire.
I peer around the doorframe into the hallway, locating my little firecracker on one knee, chucking out her magazine and replacing it at speed.
Her head turns in my direction, but she's not looking at me. No, her rifle is pointed down the hall and she starts shooting up a couple of guys who’ve decided to join the massacre.
I watch her in action for a few seconds, fascinated by her. The woman is ruthless and precise. I can’t put my finger on it or understand why my veins run red hot at the sight of her shooting a rifle. But, yeah, I’m turned on. Big time.
She can certainly handle herself in warfare, and I respect that about her. Admire her, even. Which is a complete anomaly, given I’ve never really admired anyone––except for my brothers, which goes without saying.
She’s right up there, on a pedestal. I want to secure the seat next to her, so no other guy can claim my little firecracker as theirs.
But Dani can’t be trusted.
When she disappears into another room, I pull my shit together and keep moving. The air smells like weed and fried food. In the next room, a table’s arranged for breakfast and an ashtray with a smoking blunt sits next to a mug of coffee.
Behind me, the racket of gun fire slows, and I scan the room. I don’t see blood on the walls and there isn’t a body. Whoever was puffing the blunt, isn’t far though.
I move deeper into the room and catch sight of a guy on all fours, scurrying out from behind an armchair toward a tall mahogany cabinet in the corner.
Bingo!
In a few strides, I’m peering into a dark corridor hidden by the cabinet. I should have known there would be a concealed room. After all, it’s a textbook move.
The gap is narrow enough to walk single file and there’s a door at the far end. Taking a beat, I mutter against the fabric of my balaclava. “There’s a passageway leading off the dining room.” Curious, I creep into the mouth of darkness and click on the flashlight attached to my helmet. “It’s either another room or a link to a different apartment.”
“Crow…wait.” Dani’s voice fills my ears. “I’m right behind you.”
“What took you so long, Buffy?” I ask, my scalp tingles, sensing her approach. Pretending I don’t care that she had rushed to join me, I continue to creep forward.
“I was busy killing assholes while you were playing hide and seek in here.” The sound of her amusement whispers over my shoulder and floods the earpiece. A shiver runs the length of my spine.
“You keeping a tally of the lives you’ve taken, so Blanco can award you a shiny pin to wear?” I ask quietly, almost at the door.
“Yeah, Crow. I have a point system too. The bigger the asshole, the higher the score. You’re worth top marks.”
I chuckle, low and barely detectable. “Wow, I’m flattered you think so highly of me…” My voice trails off as I place my hand on the door and push gently.
As soon as it opens, I pinpoint our target. A dirty-faced brunette on her knees, arms drawn behind her back, bloodshot, frantic eyes wide and watery.
On first inspection, blood trickles from her hairline, she’s barefoot, and the baby blue tank top and creamy shorts she’s wearing are filthy.
My stomach squeezes when she cries out from behind the grubby cloth shoved in her mouth. The man next to her jabs the barrel of his gun into her temple and roughly fists her hair.
“Come any closer and I’ll shoot the bitch,” he spits out. “Put your gun down.”
My scalp prickles, knowing Dani is right behind me, out of sight, but close enough to see into the room. In one corner, a blanket lies on the floor and a half-empty bottle of water. In the other sits a bucket. White scum fogs the only window, allowing dull light to come in.
While I assess the room, the fucker with a shaved face and clean shirt gets twitchy. “Put your gun down!” he yells. “Do it!”
