Page 21 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

The door opens just as I push off the sill. Freezing wind pushes against me as I fall, and as soon as my feet touch down on the frozen grass, I tuck and roll. My clothes soak through instantly; my jeans stick to my legs and freeze my skin, but I pull out of my roll and round the corner just as Pete’s men send bullets zinging out the club window.

My breath races through still sore lungs. Fog runs ahead of me in puffs, but I run straight for a busy street and lose myself in the crowd. I have no blood on my coat, no visible weapons. Nothing but Pete’s planner in my jacket and weapons tucked away in easily reachable places.

The cold bites at my skin, freezes the meat on my legs, and burns the tips of my fingers, but I move fast. I slide between groups of people and step into some to use them as camouflage. I’m just a dude in jeans and a coat, with a cap pulled low on a cold night in February.

Pete’s phone vibrates in my pocket, reminding me they could track me just as easily as Ace tracks them when I hand information over. Reaching into my pocket, I power the phone down and run toward our usual drop point.

Ace always sends me toward the same set of lockers in the same gym on the same street. It’s a twenty-four hour chain gym that lights up the night sky from all the electricity they run through the place.

My curious side always says I’ll stake the place out and finally get a view of who Ace is. Put a face to the person with whom I share that locker. But I’ve tried, and my hunger tends to win when Ace bides his time and makes me wait too long. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tracks my moves. If he knows I’m watching, he won’t come out and show his face.

His secrecy makes me wonder if I already know him. And if not, his reasons for staying hidden.

Moving through the front doors and past a wall of mirrors, I jog straight into the long hall full of lockers and find #384. I enter the code Ace has fed me, and drop the planner and phone in. Closing it up and making sure it’s locked, I walk away again and lose myself in the crowd outside.

Packs of women laugh together. They fuck around in the street with giggles and tight pants. And then there’s always that one idiot in ten-inch snow and a mini-skirt. They make themselves easy targets for men like Cole and Pete, but lucky for them, most of them are over twenty, and therefore, not in the age range these clubs are looking for these days.

Twenty minutes after closing the locker door, I jog up the stairs of my apartment complex and strip the frozen clothes from my skin. My fingers fumble with my buttons. They can barely hold my keys as I unlock the front door, and my teeth chatter as I enter an apartment no warmer than the fucking air outside. Kicking my boots off, I head straight for my bed and flip the electric blanket on, then I finish my trek to the bathroom and toss my clothes into a pile.

Flipping the taps on, freezing water comes out first, then warm, which feels like scalding on my frozen limbs. I stand beneath the spray with my hands on the wall and the shower cascading over my head to thaw out.

“Fuck…” Blowing out a breath, I shake my head and add a new face that’ll always be mine. For the rest of my life, Pete Aguilar is another face that’ll visit me in my dreams.

My end goal matters.

The people I hurt are bad motherfuckers, and they have my brother in their sights. I’m not hurting innocents. In fact, I’m helping innocents by taking the fucking vermin off the streets. But I was a cop once; I swore an oath to help and not hurt, but here I am playing judge, jury, and executioner, with no thought to how I’ll be able to continue my life once this is all done.

Someone has to answer for these deaths eventually, and I’m not a protected agent anymore. According to nationwide databases, Jay doesn’t exist. But John does, and John is a civilian they may label a serial killer. I have enough specialized training for the state to declare me a weapon, so not only will they lock me up, but they’ll probably send me to a state that still allows capital punishment.

I won’t allow that until Kane’s safe.

From now until then, Jay stays dead, and John gets shit done.

After that, I’ll walk toward the wall of bullets with my hands up and my eyes closed.

Whatever happens, happens.

---