Page 20 of Sor

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. Anything relatively close was thrown at the back of his head. Wads of paper, a ball cap, pens, and pencils, even a slice of bread.

“You’re an asshole! We won’t let anything happen to her,” said Joseph. Sor laughed, Nell smiling at him.

“See. Nothing will happen.”

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting,” he said to the man on the other end of the line. “I know she’ll be back, hopefully with him, and I can end this.”

“Get him. Get them both.”

“Keep me informed. I’m hidden from their cameras. They won’t get to me.”

“You don’t know them,” said the man. “They have eyes and ears everywhere. Be careful.”

He ended the call with a cocky sneer on his face. No one outsmarted him. No one. He’d proven that by being the only one who got away while the others were killed. He was skilled. They all were, but his skills, in his opinion, were superior to all of them. He’d heard the comments over the years about the infamous REAPER men and their generations of new faces.

“Pfft!” he said aloud, chiding himself for making a sound.

They were just men like any other men. In order to survive in their world, you had to be a killer. These men weren’t killers. They were justice keepers. The world had enough of those. So, if he could end a few of them, he would feel infinitely better about himself.

“And this proves my point,” he whispered. An ATV was pulling onto the property with the woman driving it. By herself. What a bunch of idiots, he thought. He glanced around her and the property, not seeing anyone following her or escorting her.

Parking the ATV near the porch, she grabbed a small suitcase from the back and walked toward the door, unlocking it. He waited for another twenty minutes, watching to be sure that no one had followed. The kitchen light was turned on, and he could see her moving around the space.

“Oh, sweet girl. You’re about to have an experience unlike anything before.” He looked up to see the camera on the trees above the gate. He had only moments to disrupt them and get to her. He took out a paintball gun and fired black blobs of paint at every lens he could see.

Moving as fast as possible, he crossed the porch, kicking the front door in.

Nell turned, jumping with surprise. That gave him satisfaction. Then, the satisfaction was gone. She tilted her head, smirking at the man.

“You’ve got nothing to smile at, honey. I’m going to make your life a living hell before your boyfriend ever gets to you.” Nell just smiled at him, shaking her head.

“You know, I hate men who think they know all the answers when, in actuality, they know nothing. I married someone like that once. I’m fortunate that my one true love is smarter than that. You, however, will find out soon enough that you will never have the chance to make my life a living hell before my boyfriend gets to me. He’s already here.”

That man’s face soured, and he turned quickly, not seeing anyone behind him. Nell just stayed where she was, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he asked.

“She doesn’t like games,” came the low growl of Cowboy. The man tried to turn and fire, but Cowboy and the others were much too fast. And, of course, in the stealth netting. He had no clue where they were or who to fire at, even if he still had possession of his weapon. When he turned back to the kitchen, the woman was gone.

“No. No, what’s happening!”

“You fucked with the wrong woman,” said Sor, suddenly visible to the man. He seemed shocked, then realized it wasn’t just him. There were a dozen men around the room.

“H-how. How did you get in here?” he asked.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Luke with a wave. “We like our secrecy.”

“Luke Robicheaux,” said the man.

“I’m flattered,” smirked Luke. “Actually. I’m not. I don’t give a fuck if you know my name. The thing is, once we had your face in our system, we knew you. Josef Bach. Not to be confused as any relation to the composer. Former Green Beret gone rogue. In fact, you went AWOL almost six years ago.”

“Now, see. That bothers me,” said Kiel, slowly stepping forward. The man turned to stare at a face he was all too familiar with. There was no denying those features. That glare. The cutting way he eyed you. He’d been the senior man on the teams when Bach was just entering the service. Everyone talked about the famous Wolfkill family.

“I figure it would,” said Bach. “The Wolfkills. Perfect ‘yes’ men. Always doing the right thing.”

“You got that fucking right. Why are you covering for some asshole who is killing kids in Cambodia?”

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