Page 67 of Fight for You
After a silent nod of agreement and one last look in my direction, Jamie vanished behind the door.
24
LOS ANGELES
Jamie
The aromaof grilled meat and lard-soaked tortillas filled the patio air. The neon signs on the awning buzzed, and the Christmas lights in the window flickered, their glow intensified by the dusk. Traffic groaned on the street at my side. An ivy-wrapped lattice, a hoodie, and Ray-Bans shielded me.
“Carne asada. Chicken. Carnitas.” Enzo shook his head and again said, “Carne asada. You seriously eating a breakfast burrito, hold the salsa. Hold all the heat.”
“Shuddup.”
“Boy, you arewhyte, aren’t you?” Between bites, he poured more hot sauce on the burrito. Hot sauce and salsa. “I love you, though. You never turn the jokes around on me.” Another bite. “Maybe you don’t know how to joke?”
I picked up my breakfast burrito and halved it in one wolffish bite. “Could be the case, but Jordyn laughs at my jokes.”
“Does she, though?”
On one occasion, she’d asked if I was trying to make a joke,and I suspected she didn’t think so. “She does. Now, you got me being disloyal by requesting to eat here.”
“You’ll bring her back some. Besides, Los Angeles might have the best hole-in-the-walls and upscale restaurants, but it doesn’t have a thing on my nonna or even a couple of the nonne on my block.” He picked up the last sliver of burrito, and it disappeared behind his smiling face. “You gonna eat that extra burrito?”
“Thought you weren’t big on breakfast burritos?”
“Oh, I am. Now that I’ve got some carne asada.”
“Not an option. Saving this one for Jordyn.” While I realized Mam would feed her until her heart was content, we’d celebrate over the burrito she’d never gotten to eat.Man,I hope the microwave revived the flavors after it sat out for several hours.
“Ugh. Must be love.” Enzo balled up his napkin. One. Two. Three. The lad before me, who’d roughhouse his brothers-in-arms over the last salty MRE, straightened his shoulders. “Break it down to me. What’s going down tonight?”
I flicked a glance down the street, a hoodie covering my now jet-black hair. Even though sunlight was a distant memory, I hid behind the darkest shade of Ray-Bans. “Before meeting you here, I checked out a potential location to hunker down at. An abandoned warehouse almost two klicks from the convention center.”
“Over a mile out?”
“If you want to be technical.” I tossed back my empty cola, crunching on ice. Shoot, nerves had me in a vice grip.
“You want me to pull the trigger?” His humble way of saying he was the better sniper.
“Nah.”
“This isn’t recon we’re doing tonight, Jamie.” Though he sat hunched, the ex-Raider took a swig from his condensed glass of horchata. “This is a hit. On US soil.”
“This isn’t a hit. This is justice. You overheard my screams in our tent. Some of the other guys in our unit must’ve overheard.Jones, I know he heard.” Though my mind shielded me from most of my time with Jordyn—and she saw that as a blessing—night terrors still claimed me in my Marine Corps days. “This is something I have to do for me, Jordyn, and any other kid he’s ever looked at wrong. This isn’t vengeance. It’s clipping the wings of a war that goes on anytime my woman thinks …”She was less than because of what others had done to her. “This is a cut-and-dry mission.” I leaned forward. “With precision.”
“Precision?” Enzo exhaled. “Alright. Real talk. You need a custom rig .408 CheyTac. Maybe .375 for a flatter flight.”
“I get it, Lorenzo. You’re the sniper here. Don’t take me to school on a flatter flight.” At the distance, I’d need to ensure wind and gravity did not affect the bullet. A .375 would be consistent for this long-range mission. In fact, it would be a beast for double the distance I wanted to shoot. “I know an off-the-shelf rifle won’t cut it. I got my CheyTac. Built one. Carbon-fiber barrel, custom suppressor. Sub-MOA at two klicks with hand loads—even though I vetted the sight, it’s a little under that.”
Enzo laughed. “Leave it to you to broach technicalities. You’ve done your homework. Thought I’d have to embarrass myself. Do something feminine, like”—his voice lowered—“drug his champagne at the donor gala. I brought a penguin suit. You’re too close to the situation. I don’t want you to tag an innocent civilian.”
“Then I don’t miss.” I hoped to God that was the case. I couldn’t eliminate a mark in the aftermath of a failed assassination attempt. The pandemonium would kill my focus. But a deadly cocktail? Enzo would have to be too close to the subject to drug him. Out of the question.
I glanced across the patio, then leaned in lower. “No offense, brother. I don’t need a spotter tonight. You don’t have to call trace. Read the wind. None of that. I want you safe.”
Enzo rolled his eyes. “You want a getaway driver? Instead of helping you play God from a mile away.”
Okay, so maybe it was safer than being caught in the act of assassination. “LAPD will shut down the grid in minutes. So, maybe I already called Howard and got the intel I needed for when you come into play.”
