“Nothing yet. If they’re here, they’re hidden well so far,” said Bone.
“Keep your eyes peeled. I have that feeling, and I don’t like it,” said Luke.
As the runners made their way through the city, some jockeying for position to be at the head of the pack, the Belle Fleur boys had to remind themselves that they weren’t in this to win it but rather to ensure others won by finishing the race.
Adam and Ben walked on one side of the street, while Luke and Carl walked on the opposite side of the street. Just as they were turning the corner, a man ran directly into Carl, backing up in apology.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, holding the hands of his son and daughter. He stared at Carl and swallowed.
“I know you,” said Carl. The man looked nervously at his children.
“Daddy, who is the big man?” asked his little girl. Carl stared at the man, then down at the expectant faces of the children.
“I’m a friend of your daddy’s,” smiled Carl. “He’s a good man.” The children smiled, and Luke looked at his brother, instinctively knowing who the man was.
“I started that job at the warehouse,” he said quietly. “It’s a dream job. They’re already asking me to be a shift supervisor. The older man, I think he was your grandfather. Thank him again for me.”
“No thanks needed,” said Carl. “Are you enjoying the run?”
“Well, we were, but there were three men back there that pushed my daughter into the street. They were carrying those big backpacks, like skiers would carry.”
“Are you hurt, sweetie?” asked Luke.
“No, sir. Just a skimmed knee.” Luke laughed at her mispronunciation and nodded. He pulled two candy canes from his pocket, handing one to each child.
“You go on with your daddy now. Have a good Christmas.” Luke looked at the man as he stood straight and tall. “Get the children out of here. Get to safety.”
“Yes, sir.” He didn’t argue or ask any questions. He took his children and moved as quickly as he could down the street.
“I take it that was Grandpa’s save the other day,” asked Luke.
“Yep. What do you think about the men with the backpacks?” asked Carl.
“I think we have a problem. Everyone hear that? Three men with large, long backpacks in the crowd. Fucking find them!”
“Did you have to knock that kid over?” asked one of the men.
“We have a job to do, or did you forget? I don’t give a shit about some snot-nosed kid that skinned her damn knees. Let’s go. We’re already late getting to the top of the buildings.”
“It won’t matter,” smirked the third man. “I’ll be picking people off like ducks at a carnival. Simple.”
“Nothing is simple, Jay. Keep your fucking head on and do your damn job. Where are Cord and Arvel?”
“Chill out, Buzz,” laughed the man. “We’ve got this. The weapons are superior. We’re the best shots around, which is why we were hired, and we can handle something this simple.”
Buzz gripped his shirt, shoving him against the cold brick of the building. As the unofficial team leader, he didn’t want excuses. He didn’t want to have to tell their boss that something went wrong. He needed for this to work.
“Listen to me, you fucking little shit. I’ve had more years firing weapons than you’ve been alive. Nothing is simple. Everything can become an issue. Pay attention and do what I fucking tell you!”
“God, fine!” he said, brushing aside his hands. “Fine. I’m paying attention. Everything isn’t serious. Everything isn’t urgent, Buzz. We know what we’re doing, and we’ll get it done. Just chill out for a minute.”
“Get to your spots,” said Buzz, glaring at the two men. They were younger than him but not so young that they shouldn’t know what to do. “I’ll check in later.”
He crossed the street and moved along the sidewalk, turning right at the corner. The other two men watched him, then shook their heads.
“He’s wound pretty fucking tight,” frowned Jay.
“He’s got a lot of pressure on him from the boss,” said Arvel. “Just ignore the attitude and listen to him. He does know more than we do.”