Page 89 of Bullseye
“Seth. I need a hand. I need the security cameras jammed at a place in Alphabet City. What can you do?”
“Nothing from this far. But I’ve got a guy in the city who can help.”
“You do?” Despite everything, I hear the awe in my voice.
“We were in juvie together. I got this. Give me the address and go.”
After spitting out the address of Mammon, I click off the phone, rev my bike, and whip it around, facing the cross street. Reaching into my tail bag, I grab my Ruger that I was able to snatch on my way out of Mammon, stuffing it into the back of my pants, and then another two pieces. Each of these I slip inside the holster straps in my boots. I strap more rounds of ammo to my waist.
Taking off down the avenue, I dodge traffic and pull up to Mammon in record time. This time, I don’t worry about being discreet. Racing around from the front entrance to the side, I drop my bike and, rushing to the door, I lift my Ruger. With one single shot, I pop the lock, bursting inside.
“What the fuck, man?” A surprised guard reaches for his gun, but he’s too slow. Without a thought, I take down both guards at the door—not killing them but injuring them enough that I’m sure they’ll stay down. There’s no way Seth’s guy could have taken down the security yet, so there’s every chance that Ironclad is watching all of this. Unless Seneca has him otherwise occupied.
Fuck.
Either way, I have to move fast.
Stepping over the two moaning men who smell like blood and fear, I pat them down and take their weapons, and then I make my way down the hallways of Mammon and toward Ironclad’s door. And this time, hell yeah, I’m packing heat. And a whole hell of a lot of it.
Barely stopping at the outer door to Ironclad’s office, I repeat my move on the front door and shoot—popping the lock. Rushing to the side of the door, I wait for the first guard with my back flat against the wall. As a giant man steps into the hallway wielding a gun, I shut the door with my foot, come up behind, and land the butt of my gun on his skull. He drops like a demolished house.
No doubt the next one will look in my direction, so before he can come through the door, I have my piece drawn and aimed through the crack at the hinges of the door. One shot in the knee drops him down, and another in the shoulder maims him. He falls facedown as well. Finally, crouching low, I sneak to the other side of the door, and as that last guard rushes out, I kick my leg, tripping him. As he goes down headfirst, breaking his fall with his wrist, I hear the snap.
Damn. A clean break to the wrist has to hurt.
Screaming, he holds his hand beneath his mammoth body as I come up behind him and clock him on the back of his head with the butt of my gun. Rushing through the now-empty outer office, I stall just before I burst down the door to Ironclad’s office.
Slow down, Bullseye,I tell myself.She’s in there. You can’t go in shooting.Pausing, I listen, but I can’t hear anything. Of course not. Ironclad’s office is soundproof.
Fuck. I can’t take this any longer.
Drawing my gun and stepping back from the door, I kick it down and barge in, wielding my gun.
“Ironclad! Get on your feet. Let’s move.”
There she is, Seneca… on her knees before Ironclad. Sizing her up quickly, I see her face is badly bruised. Oh, those assholes are going to rue the day…
Our words overlap one another while Seneca jumps to her feet and moves for her sweatshirt.
“What the fuck did you do to her, Ironclad—?”
“—Not me, Bullseye—”
“—What the fuck, man?—” Grabbing a phone from beneath the sweatshirt on the ground, she hurls it at me and it bounces off my chest. “—You ruin everything! I don’t have his confession yet!”
“—What confession? Seneca?—” Ironclad takes a step closer to her.
“—Avery, you asshole! This was my only chance! How could you do this?”
She’s still screaming at me as I grab her by the arm and pull her to me. Fighting me, she starts punching me in the chest. She looks like she’s been dragged through the mud and then beaten, but she keeps fighting. Damn, no wonder they call her Wildfire.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the monitors with the feed from the cameras all go down. Ironclad doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he stares at me—his jaw is clenched, and his eyes are narrowed. He’s pissed.
“That was your plan, Seneca? To trap me into saying what? That I sent Mikey and Tony to that drug dealer’s crack den and ordered a hit?” He laughs. “You think if I had that much power, I’d have told Bullseye to kill Don Bordono?”
“What?” Some of what he says makes sense… but he’s such a slimy snake, it’s near impossible to know what’s true and what’s not.
Still holding her, I can tell that even Seneca is tiring—I can feel her energy drain as her fight weakens. Eyeing the bathroom door at the back of the office, I know there’s no choice. Dragging a fighting Seneca to the door, I force it open as I keep my gun on Ironclad. Pushing Seneca inside, I yank the door closed and, still with Ironclad in my sights, I jam his desk against her door. She’s trapped.
