Page 88 of Skin Deep

“Yeah.” His voice came out high and tight. He ran a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. “The last time I was in a place like this was after Maya died.”

I lifted the back of his hand to my lips. It was all the comfort I could offer. I couldn’t bring Maya back or take away his pain, but I wished I could. “We’re going to get him, Pax. For Maya.”

His jaw trembled before he steeled his expression and squeezed my hand back. Pax nodded once. “I know.”

“You two love birds done recitin’ poetry over there?” Boone said.

Shepherd came out of nowhere to tower over Boone. “Have some decency. The man recently lost his wife to the ripper. The mother of his children.”

“Decency?” Boone snorted. “Listen here, professor. I got crates of hand grenades and enough AKs to make your Russian friends look like they run a toy store. You want scopes? Tripwire? Bullets they ain’t made since eighteen forty-seven? I’m your man. But ain’t nobody call me for my decency. They call me to do a job. I ain’t got time for decency.” With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and slithered into the next room.

Church eyed us and offered coldly, “My condolences on your loss, but don’t take too long. Boone doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Shepherd’s lip twitched into a snarl, watching Boone go. “Have you ever had opossum?” he asked as we came closer.

I made a face. “People don’t really eat that, do they?”

Shepherd shrugged. “I’m told it’s quite gamey and greasy. Unpleasant. I imagine our friend Boone would taste something like that. But he’d be glorious to hunt, wouldn’t he?”

I patted my brother’s shoulder. “You can’t kill him.”

“Yet,” Shepherd qualified. “One day, that disgusting little man will cease to be useful, and on that day, it’ll be open season.”

I sighed and shook my head, entering the room.

The family always held their official meetings in the main viewing room of the funeral home. That was for several reasons. One, we owned the space, and every powerful family needed a base of power. Separating that from the family home was a smart move. Second, there was something inherently intimidating about surrounding your enemies with the trappings of death. Herding them into the same room where we held funerals was akin to whispering, “Remember, thou art mortal.” Even the most powerful men would wind up in the ground. When the Laskin family worked together, that tended to happen to our enemies sooner rather than later.

Boone took a seat at the center of the table on the far side and I sat across from him, Annie on my right and Pax on my left. My siblings and Aleksi filled in our side of the table, leaving Izzy the only one left to sit on the other side. Lines drawn in the sand.

Boone didn’t seem to notice or care. He sat sideways in his folding chair and removed his hat, letting it rest on the table in front of him. “So,” he started, running his fingers through his greasy hair, “here’s the thing.”

“Did you find Sergei or not,” I demanded.

“Boy,” Boone said with a snort, “it’s been eight hours since you paid me. I ain’t no miracle worker.” He sprouted a wry smile. “But yeah, I found him. You won’t like where he is, though. Fucker’s holed up down in Meigs county, some farm out in the middle of nowhere. Place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Just gettin’ there, you got to go down this long winding gravel road that cuts through a cornfield. This time of year, visibility is shit. They’ll see any cars coming long before you ever see them.”

“Then it’s simple,” Xander offered. “We go in on foot through the fields.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buckaroo,” Boone said, pointing finger guns at Xander. “Cornfield’s the start of our problems. It’s rigged with tripwires and all sorts of fun shit. If whatever explosives they got planted down there don’t get you, the guards sitting on the roof of the farmhouse’ll pick you off one by one. And even if one of you sorry bastards is lucky enough to make it through, you won’t find him in the house. It’s a fuckin’ decoy.”

Boone rolled out a large topographical map of the region and slammed his finger down on what appeared to be a random spot. “Your quarry is in a hunting cabin about three miles back from the main house, completely inaccessible from the road. The only way in or out is on foot, through the woods where they’re running regular rotations of guards and dogs. They’ve got a couple of deer hunting stands here and here.” He got out a red marker, yanked the cap off with his teeth and circled a few areas. “You won’t see ‘em until you’re on ‘em.”

“How do you know any of this if it’s only been a few hours?” Xavier asked.

“Because knowing shit and finding people is what I do. If you knew half the stuff I did, you’d shit yourself.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “And if you motherfuckers wanna survive this, you’re going to need our help to get close.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I hired you to find him, and you’ve done that. We should take it from here.”

“I know you don’t like me, but the facts are the facts,” Boone said. “You’re outgunned. There’s twenty-one armed men between you and Sergei. You boys might be badasses, but you ain’t that bad.”

“You’re trying to extort more money from us,” River grumbled and looked at me. “We don’t need him, War. We’ve carried out dozens of operations, most of them more complicated than this. We can walk through the woods, point, and shoot.”

“Pardon, River was it?” Church interrupted. “No disrespect intended, but Sergeant Boone is right. We are trained professionals who go into these situations for a living. Our success rate speaks for itself. We’ve analyzed the situation and run a dozen simulations. In every single one, you fail the mission. My men are trained extraction specialists. Former SWAT, Army Rangers, Navy SEALS, CIA, Homeland Security. Quite frankly, we have credentials out the arse. If we say you need us, then you need us.”

“What about you?” Xander demanded. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Are you asking for my qualifications?” Church said, lifting an eyebrow.

Xander shrugged. “No offense, but we don’t know you from jack.”

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