Page 90 of Descent

“Don’t be so cynical. We’re almost home free. We’ll get answers, we’ll get out from under Ananke’s thumb.”

“You really think she’s gonna let us go? She’s having us kill the only thing she kept dangling in front of us. That and our memories. If she can even restore them.”

I ride in silence for a few moments.

“You know, she told me this was a reward,” Ero muses and I nod in agreement. “She’s playing us again. Waiting for an excuse to punish us for stepping out of line. Carrot and stick, like she said. Except it’s only ever the stick.”

“You can give me the stick later.”

He’s right, but dwelling on it doesn’t help us now.

“You know I will,” Ero rumbles, making my tummy flip. Nearing our target, I ready my pistols, my rifle. Tighten my vest.

“Not to jinx it, but you know this is probably a trap.”

“It’s definitely a trap. Whose, I don’t know. I mean, why would Ananke double-cross us?”

“Plans within plans. It’s not her I’m worried about. If Weller knows something, that means someone else could too. And no way Dom isn’t worth a pretty penny to someone willing to pay.

“Always with the mind games. You’re right. There’s likely going to be some competition.”

“Good thing we are the best players in the game.”

The bleak haze of the midmorning desert warbles in the distance, zipping by. Ero doesn’t let off the gas, roaring ahead. Iwatch the dot on the screen approaching, pointing to a slope in the distance.

Good cover.

He kills the engine. We army crawl up the incline and crest the hill in time to see three men running for their lives as the lead vehicle explodes into flames, flipping through the air, landing in a smoldering heap.

All three are gunned down before they can find cover.

“What. The. Fuck. Who are these clowns?”

“Bounty hunters. You called it.”

“On the left, yeah. What about them?” I point.

“Mercenaries for sure. Ex-special forces from the looks of things.”

The two groups close in from opposite sides, attacking each other and the agents rushing from the Hummers. In moments, most of all three groups are down.

Leaving one of the last mercs to rush the middle car, a black SUV. As soon as he reaches for the door, it whips open, a boot flies out, taking him square in the face. A U.S. Marshal blurs out of the car followed by another figure, sprinting away at the sound of a thunk and a whistle.

The concussion of the grenade shreds the SUV, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Both men hit the ground covering their heads. Only one gets up.

Dom.

Ero and I dash from cover, staying low. The longer it takes for anyone to notice we’re here the better. The roar of engines in the distance says there’s more baddies on the way. That or backup for the cops.

We’re almost to the struggling form of our mark when another group of gunmen round the remains of the lead vehicle. I take out the first, double tap. The second dives out of sight.

To the west, more gunfire announces company. Ero slides low, laying down cover from the other direction.

Whipping my other pistol around, I pop off four more, right over Ero’s head. We both turn back at the same time, watching helplessly as one of the mercs in black takes aim from atop the rear vehicle.

We flinch.

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