Page 77 of Psycho
Avi nodded. “It’s true. You look like an overgrown leprechaun but you got screwed out of the luck part. Bad shit just follows you. Embrace it.”
“Fuck all of you,” Atticus said, pouting.
Lucas glared at Atticus. “I’m a trained FBI agent. It’s not like I don’t know my way around an extraction.”
Archer snickered. “You’re an egghead, poppet. Embrace it.”
“Yes. When was the last time you had to qualify on the gun range?” Atticus asked.
“When was the last time you did?” Noah countered, holding his hand out for Lucas for a fist bump, which Lucas begrudgingly returned. He appreciated Noah having his back without asking for receipts. Atticus wasn’t wrong. Lucas hadn’t had to qualify with a weapon because he rarely had cause to carry one in his line of work. It had been a while since the academy. But he had no doubt he could do what needed to be done.
“Fine. I’ll go with Lucas. Atticus is with the others,” August said. “I won’t be able to focus with you out of my sight anyway.”
Lucas’s heart flip-flopped in his chest, and he couldn’t shake the feeling he was blushing.
“We have a plan. Does everybody know what they’re doing?” Thomas asked, once more cutting through the banter.
“Does it even matter, Pop?” Asa asked. “It all goes to shit at the last minute anyway.”
“It’s true,” Avi parroted. “The objective stays the same. Get the girl, kill the bad guys, destroy the evidence. Don’t get caught. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.”
“Don’t get dead,” Thomas said drolly. “Dismissed.”
* * *
The moonless night was on their side, as was the near deserted location. During the day, the area was bustling with dozens of manufacturers creating everything from storm shutters to neon signs. But once the sun went down, most people went home, blanketing the neighborhood in darkness.
The building was ancient. Pieces of concrete had worn away in chunks, and the once orange trim was now a rust color. There were giant cracks and divots in the parking lot, but it didn’t stop the men from parking their overpriced cars in front of the open doors, allowing them to work on them as they talked and drank with their friends.
To the casual observer, they were just a bunch of drunken fools, laughing a little too loud, partying a little too hard. But inside the doors, tacked up on one of the side walls, was a Nazi flag right next to the American flag. The men wore runes inked on their skin, symbols stolen from the Norse Vikings and co-opted to represent hate. Even from across the street, their casual use of slurs carried.
Lucas checked his watch. There was only forty-five minutes until their little show began. He raised his binoculars, scanning for Asa’s and Avi’s heat signatures, making a frustrated sound when he saw nothing. “What are we waiting for?”
“People are getting into position. I know you want to get Cricket out of there but we only get one shot at this.”
“I know,” Lucas muttered, raising the binoculars to his eyes once more just in time to see the twins closing in on either side. They were dressed head to toe in black, wearing balaclavas that hid their faces. They carried guns with silencers in one hand and a canister that resembled a can of shaving cream in the other.
Avi held up two fingers, letting them know they were clear to cross the street. They met Atticus, Archer, and Adam at the corner, hunkering down on one knee. “Remember, when they give the signal, you go straight to the back. Find Cricket and get out. If you run into somebody you don’t know, shoot to kill.”
“And if we run into Cujo?” Atticus grumbled.
“Run,” August suggested.
Atticus glared at August. “Great advice.”
“Ready?” August asked. They all nodded. August pressed the comms button. “Ready?” he whispered to the twins.
They gave a single nod as one.
“Go.”
After that, everything happened at once. They rolled the canisters into the group of men, and, as expected, it took a few moments for them to process this was an attack. By then, the twins were rolling the doors down, slamming them shut and locking them with heavy black devices.
Adam kicked in the office door just as a man stumbled into the room, holding his eyes. Adam dropped him with a headshot before they broke into two groups—Adam, Atticus, and Archer moving into the garage with the twins, August, and Lucas advancing forward, August in the lead.
Lucas kept his gun raised but his hand off the trigger, some part of him secretly concerned he’d accidentally shoot August in the fray. While their weapons were silent, the responding gunfire was deafening.
In the hallway, a man came running from a back room, running headfirst for August. Lucas pulled the trigger, catching the man in the shoulder. August’s hands moved so quickly Lucas didn’t even see the cuts he made, only the aftermath of blood bubbling from the man’s lips. They stepped past him, moving deeper into the building, kicking open doors and clearing them as quickly as possible.
