Page 124 of Three of a Kind

Soren sticks to my left, and Ranger stays on the right side of the road. Assault rifles allow for longer ranges, but I’m most comfortable up close and personal with my target.

It’s fine.

We all have our roles to play.

Large, well-trimmed hedges line the entire area. I’m sure they provide privacy, but they also help to give us cover.

Soren’s arm flies up to block me from moving any closer, and we both crouch at the edge of the final tree in the line.

“On three.” Ranger’s voice crackles in my earpiece.

I count it out and frown when I realize there are three guards instead of two. The third was blocked by the massive guy with his back to us.

I start forward.

“That wasn’t three,” Soren hisses, but the glass of the guard shack shatters an instant later.

“Ranger doesn’t actually know how to count out seconds.” Or I don’t, but this is the kind of thing you only learn from working with someone for a shitload of years.

Ranger is always going to act one count before I would.

I tug the Glock from my thigh holster and take out the big guy’s left ankle.

He roars, spinning either from the force of the shot or with the intention of taking my head off.

My foot flies at his chest, sending him staggering backward, but he pulls his weapon, meaning I have no choice but to take the head shot.

Soren stands behind one of the two remaining men. He’s got a gun extended toward the man closest to me, but he has another pointed downward at the neck of the man against his chest. “Which one of you would like to live a few minutes longer?”

The man struggling against Soren’s chest rips a blade from his belt and tries to stab backward at Soren.

Soren pulls the trigger, and it rips through the man’s throat and down into his chest due to the angle. At the same time, the one closer to me stops holding his hands up and reaches for his gun.

I take two steps and execute him.

Soren blinks and finally nods, like he appreciates the save.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you bastards don’t understand the meaning of a non-lethal shot, either,” Ranger hisses as he approaches from behind me. “But I had higher hopes for the two of you. Fine, this is your mistake. You hash it out to decide who gets a boost over the fence.”

“Not it,” I say purely out of reflex. It’s how Maverick and I settle all disagreements about shitty jobs.

Soren simply blinks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Soren is taller than you are and skinnier. He’ll likely be easier to lift,” Ranger says. “Let’s get on with it. They should have breached the front a minute ago if they’re on schedule.”

“Not to ruin the bonding moment you’re having,” Merrick says, the sound startling all of us. He’s so quiet sometimes that I forget he’s monitoring everything. I bet the tech specialists get a good laugh at listening to our ridiculous arguments. “And not that I wouldn’t love to listen to Soren bitch and complain about being tossed over the brick fence, but…” He laughs. “The gate is in the process of opening.”

“If we were chucking Gunner over, would you have interceded?” Ranger asks.

“Yup,” Merrick says. “Soren might be my packmate, but when you’re in the field, I watch all your asses without preferential treatment.”

“Good to know,” Soren says drolly.

Jesus Christ.

He and Ranger remind me too much of each other sometimes.

Ranger, Soren, and I make it inside the gate, dragging the corpses with us.

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