Page 85 of Breathe
He kept his voice low as they moved through the compound. Stone took the lead with Rip in the middle, and he protecting their flank.
They had already cleared several rooms on the east side and were on their way through and entered the north part of the estate.
The place was huge, and they didn’t have the exact plans, so at times they were walking almost blind. The plans they did have were old, and it was clear that Micky had added onto the structure.
It was slow going.
“Don’t you like Boston?” Real smirked, tossing the question at Rip.
He stepped over a body lying in the hallway and crouched to touch the man’s throat and found no pulse.
Rip cleared his throat as he waited. “He’s not legal, plus he’s been through some tough shit.”
“Yeah, you’ve got to be careful. With their background, that could be a potential for disaster,” Real said, gesturing to move, and Stone took up the lead again.
Real had worried about the same thing with Azrael, and when he had brought it up last week, the conversation had been…interesting.
“What?” Azrael had frowned at him.
“What you’ve been through being raised by those assholes has impacted you, to not think so is…naive,” Real said, rubbing a hand at the back of his own neck.
The corner of Azrael’s mouth twitched upward. “I wasn’traisedby those assholes. I, we… were raised by drug addicted parents. I wasn’t taken by Solomon until I was sixteen.”
Real had heard some of those facts in snatches of conversation between the twins at Dave’s place, but he sat through it again. He wanted to hear it all from Azrael. The young assassin talked about his childhood from as far back as he could remember. The twins had been raised by meth addicted parents living on food stamps in lower income housing in Long Beach, California.
There had been a constant string of dealers coming in and out of the house through the years. The boys wore tattered clothes, food was scarce, and they never had any friends come over to the crappy apartment.
“Are they still alive?” Real asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know.”
“Then you don’t have to.” At that point, he had pulled Azrael into his arms and taken him off the ranch to the closest town for pizza. It wasn’t the most nutritious meal, but Azrael loved the pepperoni and sausage.
It was at that moment when he realized that he would do anything for the young assassin, and as he thought back over the past few years, it dawned on him that it had always been likethat. From the moment Azrael had yelled at him on the streets of San Bernardino, Real had fallen.
It had just taken them a while to get there because Azrael hadn’t been legal, and Real was a man of honor. It still made him nervous, but he had to trust that Azrael would figure life out and he would be there to help him.
Azrael would never need to suffer again if he had anything to say about it.
Real followed Rip, and they came to the end of a hallway and turned to the left, taking the stairs downward.
It was at that point they reached an archway that led to another section downstairs, and Stone paused at the side of the entrance, staying hidden.
Real and Rip moved into position behind Stone and waited.
Voices came from within the room. There was no mistaking the sounds of weapons being readied. The clanking of automatic rifles being tossed on the table and the jamming of clips into handguns. He knew those sounds as well as he knew the sound of his own breathing. He’d lived with those sounds in the military.
This was going to be a fucking battle.
And they could no longer wait.
Stone gave the signal, coming to the same realization as him. If they waited any longer, then whoever was gearing up would take those weapons and send bullets into the team.
At Stone’s signal, Real and Rip slipped past him and stepped into the room.
“Put your guns down,” Real ordered in a loud and authoritative voice. It boomed throughout the room.
Stone took in the number of people…it was a lot, and they didn’t want to surrender. Instead, they opened fire, and everyone, perps included, dove for cover.
