Page 57 of Nest of Thieves
“Uno, dos, tres,” he whispers, grabbing the knob and easing the door open.
The three of us slip inside. Voices come from inside one of the trucks. I point to the far end of the building, communicating that I’ll take that post while they deal with them from this side. Mac cracks his neck and exhales a hissed breath that would make Death himself hesitate.
Vette nods. I race across the concrete floor, running between full pallets to stay out of sight. Mac and Vette wait until I’m positioned behind a pallet full of crates before they make their presence known.
Mac steps away from the wall, whistling the tune from the movieTwisted Nerve. There are eight guys in the truck, and they all stop talking, turning in unison. I duck and squat, looking around the lower half of the pallet and pointing the rifle toward the truck.
Like fish in a barrel. Only, they have to come out before I can start taking them out. I’m not risking the lives of the people inside.
“My, what big trucks you have,” Mac says, stopping in front of the open dock door. His AR-15 is pointed at the guy closest to him. “I’m confused, though. Granny never got an invite.”
Mac doesn’t even know his grandma. He’s such a fucker.
“Who the fuck are you?” a guy finally asks, puffing his chest and reaching for the gun at his hip.
“Ah-ah. Are you trying to die?” Mac asks, shaking his head. “Never mind that you will, I just didn’t expect someone to volunteer to go first.”
“Asshole, do you know who you’re fucking—”
Mac fires a shot with precision. The guy drops like a sack of potatoes. Screams erupt from inside the truck, terrified cries from their victims. My finger inches toward the trigger, but I wait. Mac will lead them out.
“Who wants to play hide-and-seek?” Mac takes a few quick steps back, and the rest of the guys advance, pulling out guns and pointing them at my friend.
I suck in a sharp breath but wait.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The first guy steps out of the truck.
I fire. He dies.
“Fuck this shit! Run!” The other guys jump out and scatter.
Vette appears from the side of the truck and takes out three guys. I get another, and Mac takes the last two down. Mac points his gun down and shakes his head.
“That was anticlimactic.”
“You’re loco, you know that?” Vette says, joining him in the middle of the floor.
I start to rise, but my gaze catches on a guy tucked between crates. His gun is aimed at Mac’s head. I growl and swing my gun in the guy’s direction, shooting him, but not before he can get a shot off.
“Mac!” I shout, sprinting out from behind the pallet as the slug slams into his forearm. His whole body jerks from the impact, and he stumbles.
“Motherfucking cunts.” Mac almost falls, but Vette holds him up, cursing in Spanish.
“Check for more,” Vette yells, but I’m already on it, searching every inch of the warehouse twice over before I return to my friends. Mac is propped up against the wall next to the dock, holding Vette’s shirt against the wound. Vette’s discarded vest sits on the floor next to him, and I hear him quietly talking inside of the truck.
Blood streams down Mac’s arm, but he grins at me like he got the biggest Christmas present.
“Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask.
“It hurts, but I’m fine. You two calm them down. I’ll call for a pick up.”
I frown at him. “Keep the pressure on.”
“Non-fatal. Stop wasting time,” he scolds me as he pulls his phone from his pocket. Damien has a crew ready to help these people find their way back home or, at the very least, find their way to safety. The guys and I stay away from the majority of jobs where killing is involved, but this job hits close to home for Mac.
“What are you waiting for?” Mac’s eyebrows pinch together. The phone is pressed to his ear, but his eyes are imploring me to get my shit together and help Vette.
