Page 30 of Lethal

“We have people to kill first,” Cole says, slapping me on the ass. “But we aren’t splitting up. We work as a team on this one. I don’t think any of us want to lose eyes on you when the man we are hunting notoriously buys women who disappear shortly after.”

I scoff. “Please. I’d love to see him try to capture me.”

“You’d give them one hell of a fight, Reginetta. But let’s not test things.“ Vander kisses my temple as he moves past me. He picks up his pole and resumes his position to continue pushing us toward our destination. The others do the same and before long, we’re within view of the compound.

The moment we beach the airboat, the men strap themselves with rifles. Cole levels each of us with a serious gaze. It’s his sister we’re after, so he takes point on giving us instructions. “All jokes aside about who gets to kill first, we need to remember the name of the game is to maim. We need to get answers at the very least, and if our target is here, we don’t want to kill him before he’s appropriately tortured.”

We move close to the ground next to the water’s edge, taking advantage of the reeds growing along the embankment. I make sure I’m in the middle of our group, hoping that if an alligator thinks we look like a snack, it’ll pick one of the others instead of me.

As we slink along, I keep my head on a swivel, not wanting any surprises sneaking up on us. I’m surprised at the lack of goons located around the property. Either Brent is a moron, which, let’s face it, he is, or he’s overconfident in his men finding anyone in the swamps before they reach his compound. Or the elusive third option of this being a trap.

If something is too easy, the odds are something isn’t right. “Where are all the henchmen?” I whisper into the night.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Jasper roughly replies. “Keep a lookout. See anything that moves, shoot first, ask questions later. We can always find a clue another way.”

“As if I wasn’t doing that already,” I hiss at his back, a little offended he felt the need to pass along the command.

He stops moving, making me halt abruptly so I don’t slam into his back. He turns around, a scowl marring his features, and steps into my space, his face hovering right above mine. “We run this like a well oiled team, and every team has a leader. As much as I know you want that to be you, it’s not. You need to get used to that, Little Bird. I’m the leader of this team.” His eyes flash with an emotion akin to anger. “Now follow my orders like a good girl, so I can reward you later.”

My hackles bristle with his tone, but I can’t find any fault with what he said. He’s right. I want to be the leader no matter what we’re doing, but I can also recognize I’m not the right person for the job. In fact, all of them, aside from Grayson, have way more experience than I could ever imagine in leading a strike team.

A single nod has him turning around and moving forward, returning to the task of approaching the compound. The building is standing on stilts, allowing for the water levels of the surrounding swamp to fluctuate while leaving the structure unaffected. Stairs lead to the main level, where an elevated walkway wraps around the building. From there, any patrols can see the surrounding swamps, but I still find it strange I haven’t seen a single man on post.

The moment we reach the stairs, the sound of several other airboats approaching whirrs in different directions. They must have surveillance monitoring the building. Either they knew we were coming ahead of time, or we triggered something to have them come rushing in immediately.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Brent assumed someone would come for him based on Cole’s mass murders in sex clubs, starting with the one he was recently at. He practically sent a death threat that couldn’t be ignored. At least that’s how I would take it. And I’d prepare for every eventuality of the person coming after me, no matter how careful I was of covering my tracks.

“Fuck,” Jasper curses, glancing around, trying to form a plan. “Get under the stairs. It’s the best cover available here.” I briefly wonder why he didn’t say we should make our way to the main level of the building. But with one glance, I realize it’s mostly made of wood. Anyone inside would have no issue shooting through the wall and killing us when we think one side is covered.

We move as one, backtracking and circling around the stairs as the noise grows louder. I’m assuming we can count on each airboat holding the same number as the other one we encountered. By the sound of things, there are at least three incoming teams, which adds up to twelve assailants.

“Grayson, I want you at the center of the stairs watching our backs, making sure nobody sneaks up on us. Raven and Vander, you two will shore up next to the stairs. Use them for cover as needed. Cole and I will crouch next to you.” Jasper drops the duffle he was carrying and rips it open, displaying the extra supplies we have. “If you don’t mind manning the supplies, Grayson. Let’s zip up.”

With his reminder, we all slide our arms into the jackets we had tied around our waists. They’re bulletproof made of lightweight, prototype materials. Sure, it would have been smart to have them on from the very start. But the heat is already incredibly stifling. Adding armor to it was out of the question when it wasn’t needed yet. Maybe I should have Cole spoof an email directing the team at Halston Solutions to design armor that’ll wick the sweat and keep you cool.

The airboats come into view, well, the huge fans propelling them forward do. I still don’t have sight of how many people they might carry, but at least we know what directions they’re coming from. The terrain leaves no room for surprises.

As the reeds move, parting for the first boat, the occupants are revealed. Eight in the first one. They file off the boat, their motions giving way to the training they’ve had. They’re foes, but at a greater disadvantage than we were at. At least we have the staircase to hide behind. They’re out in the open.

“Is the plan still maim and capture?” Vander asks.

Jasper grunts. “Only if they seem like they’re in charge. But I doubt anyone who knows the information we want will come from one of those boats.” Excellent. Death shots it is. I raise my rifle to my shoulder, lining my sights as I aim for the closest man. “Little Bird gets first shot,” he adds after a moment, but it’s all the encouragement I need. My finger presses on the trigger and the man goes down.

The first shot gives away our location. Now it’s a game of taking out the men before they can level their AK-47s on us. The others shoot as well; the men unloading from the boats dropping as quickly as they step free. Before we get the last man, two other teams arrive, their guns already in position to fire.

I keep my breaths steady, methodically moving through the targets. This is so different from all the hours I’ve gone through shooting targets, but as each man drops, an eerie calmness comes over me. A hyper-aware focus where so many pinpoints of data files through my brain. The glint of a rifle moving to someone’s shoulder. Motion to the left. No, he’s dropped to the ground before I can aim for him, onto the next. The reeds shuffle to the right, revealing a man wading through the water trying to sneak up on us.

Two more boats arrive, and yet we pick them off easily. What at first seemed like we would be impossibly out in the open, turns out to be the complete opposite. The stairs give us more coverage than I thought they would, and in reality, the men spilling into the opening are the ones making themself easy pickings.

Sure they’ve come close to hitting us, bullets whistle by and wood chips fly in the air as they hit the stairs. But so far they haven’t measured up to us. Again, it feels too easy. But maybe it’s my hyper fixation, making everything seem that way. The high of killing is pulsing through my veins, overshadowing everything else. This is my first time killing consecutively. It’s quite thrilling being challenged this way.

Every so often, we ask Grayson to hand us a new clip, and he does, shoving it into our hand like he was already expecting it. It’s during one of the moments where I’m asking him to hand me one when I see the man step into view. He’s holding a rocket launcher. The fresh clip meets my hand, and I slam it into place. At the same time, the man brings the launcher to his shoulder, lining up his shot.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The clip clicks into place and my hand moves to the bolt on instinct, loading a bullet into the chamber. I don’t waste any time and fire at the man while yelling at everyone to move. The shot hits true, right in his heart, and as his body falls, I know I was too late. The staircase we’re hiding behind explodes in a shower of wood chips, and I’m blown back. My body slams to the ground.

Chapter 13

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