Page 73 of Ravens
Carter’s laugh is like a bark in my ear, but York cuts it off with, “Now’s not the fucking time.”
“You weasel!” I shout and grab August by the back of his jacket as I come around the desk. I haul him up in front of me and drag him across the floor and hiss, “Fucking turncoat.”
He doesn’t say anything as I press my gun into his back and force him forward so aggressively that he stumbles repeatedly. I guide him out the front to where the wounded agents are lying on the pavement.
“Let the guy go. You don’t need murder on top of treason charges,” one of them says, gripping his leg as sweat beads along his hairline.
It’s an irresponsible thought, a stupid one, but in the back of mind I think that it’s good they’ve been shot because now they know how it feels. I know how it feels. Once you know how it feels . . . it’s somehow more permissible to dole out such pain.
Suffer how I suffer.
“Tripoli,” a deep voice drawls from behind me.
Jeffries.Son of a . . . What is he doing here?
I shuffle around, dragging August with me as I put Jeffries to my right instead of at my back, and the cuffed agents remain to my left, useless. August keeps his hands in the air like a good little bystander, and York crackles in my ear.
“We’re going to start firing in about two seconds,” he warns me.
“You have been far too much trouble,” Jeffries chides as he steps through the empty window frame. “Far too much trouble forwhatyou are.”
“Russel never told youwhatI am, did he?”
Jeffries pauses for a fraction of a second but continues, “You’re far less than you think you are.”
“More than enough to deal with Russel, though. Do you think you’re more of a challenge than the Director?”
“Taking credit for someone else’s kill.” He clicks his tongue.
I look around dramatically. “Oh, so you think a bomb going off and a shooter taking out your guys is completely unrelated to my presence here?” I tsk back. “I was dancing with Russel right before he died, Jeffries. I’m a harbinger of bad tidings these days.”
“My guys are fine.” He nods toward the agents on the ground, gripping their wounds.
“Are they fine?” I look at them. “Are you fine, fellas? Feeling good?”
The zip of a bullet sounds, and the solo agent sprawls forward onto his stomach, motionless with a hole in his head and a pool of blood growing.
Jeffries flinches, and his gun comes up, shifting high up to the buildings for a second before landing back on me. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead too.
I throw August to the ground beside me, and he scrambles as I train my gun on Jeffries in return. August gains his feet in my periphery, keeping low as he backs away.
“I’m fucking untouchable,” I grit out, “but not even Russel knew how true that really was. It’s one of those fuck-around-and-find-out things.” Lowering my gun, I step forward until Jeffries’s gun is pressed into my chest. “Do you want to find out, Jeffries?”
“You’re bluffing, and not only are you easy to read, Tripoli, but my dick doesn’t respond to you either, so you can go fuck yourself. I’m taking you in, one way or another.”
“Ah, so you’re not allowed to kill me either. I wonder why that is?” I shove his gun away from me. “Everything you read off me is intended, Jeffries, unlike you. How’s the ex-wife and kid? Are they still in that bungalow in Baltimore? It’s a cute little neighborhood.” His eyes flare, and I tap my head. “It’s all in here . . . and that’s not the only place it lives anymore.”
His eyes widen, and he backhands me. My head snaps to the side, and for the briefest second, I can’t believe he did it.
Then I turn on him, punching him in the jaw. His meaty hand wraps around my throat, and I narrow my eyes as he squeezes. “What? Trying to get me to call you Daddy, too?”
“Holy fuck,” August mutters from somewhere behind me, and someone else I can’t identify hisses in shock over the radio in my ear.
York appears, stepping out from the plastic sheeting and crossing the road. Sniper rounds zip through the air, and the two cuffed agents stop moving to my left. Jeffries jerks his gun away from me, and it arcs wide toward York.
“Relax, boys.” My voice strains under his grip as I raise my own gun.
A shot fires, and then I’m firing, right into Jeffries’s head.
