Page 68 of Huntsman
I should feel bad about literally bringing war to the steps of the Mwuaji community’s heart. Or what is supposed to be the heart of it. There are innocents here. Soldiers and staff who are just doing their jobs. But then there are those here who are fully culpable in the chaos and destruction that Abena has forced on this family. They’ve cosigned it with either their active participation or theirsilence and inaction. Now them? I’m not going to feel bad about laying waste to them at all.
I’m minutes from committing the highest form of treason—assassination. And anyone who gets in between me and my target is just collateral damage.
And though a part of me is already mourning the loss of life—the loss of the little pieces of the soul I have left—I’m good on that.
Flipping the release on my holster, I start to hum “Ready or Not” by the Fugees. But the tiny hairs on the back of my neck lift, and in one motion, I whirl around, dropping to my knee, and grabbing my dagger from the sheath on my thigh—
“If you want to die, there are easier ways to go about it. Me, for instance. I’m more than willing to get the job done.”
“Son of a bitch.” Jerking my face covering up to my forehead, I glare at Malachi. Yeah, that’s right. No more Huntsman. That man’s dick has rearranged my insides. Wego together, go together. I don’t give a fuck if he won’t let me say his name aloud. His mama named him Malachi; I’ma call him Malachi. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He arches an eyebrow, the only inflection in his expression.
“I should be asking you that,olori.” I don’t miss the stress he places on my title. “What the fuck are you up to?”
He crosses his powerful arms across his wide chest, and gotdamn, I’m trying to focus on anarchy. Coming in here with those guns popping against his black camo shirt is just wrong.
I wave a hand and turn back around, fixing my attention back on the obodo.
Why aren’t you at the hospital with the people you’re supposed to love and protect? The people who need you. Instead, you’re here, hiding. And running scared. Someone coming for you? You don’t give a fuck about that. But coming after your…
I blink, Malachi’s words, the same words that drove me from his bed in the middle of the night, rebounding in my head. He’dbeen right. An assassin’s sights set on me? I’m good with that. But Penn almost dying and then Sienna being shot and left for dead in a dirty parking deck? And the rest of my Seven—my sisters—possibly getting hurt or worse because of me and my decisions? No. I can’t have that.
Abena started this when she had my mother killed.
It’s up to me to finish it.
“Why ask questions you know the answers to?”
“Shit.” He grips my arm and turns me back around to look at him, mugging me. “This is stupid as fuck. You’re letting your emotions write a check your ass can’t cash. You have to stand down.”
“I ain’t gotta do nothing but stay Black and die. And Michael Jackson and Jesus showed even those two are optional.” I curl my lip. “Besides, the only reason you don’t want me running up in there is because it’ll fuck up your plans to murder me. Am I right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, damn.” I jam my fists on my hips. “My pussy’s still curving to your dick and you’re out here talking ’bout murdering me. I’m just telling you right now: You want back in this good shit”—I point down between my legs—“you’re going to have to come with flowers, candy, or some new throwing knives. Something. I mean, serious groveling.”
“Sorry, olori. I don’t get off on crawling, and my dick doesn’t rule me. You and me? We still got business at the end of the day. And you got me fucked up if you think I’m just gonna stand by and let you roll up in there half-cocked because your conscience is playing goddamn footsie with your trigger finger.”
I grind my teeth together, and when I speak, I’m faintly surprised a cloud of molar dust doesn’t escape. “You can’tletme do shit. Me bouncing on your dick doesn’t make you my man or keeper. Now you can get out of my way, or I can put you out of my way. Those are the only choices I’m giving you. That’s me being nice since you got me all relaxed with orgasms. Consider yourself hashtag blessed.”
I don’t wait for him to release me but jerk free of his hold.Stepping back, I give him one last hard look. He meets mine with one of his own, those gray-blue eyes promising all sorts of retribution for my loose mouth. Under other circumstances, I would goad him to get just a little of what his gaze telegraphs, but I don’t have the time right now.
I got a date with Abena.
And I don’t wanna be late.
Tugging down my face mask again, I begin my half-mile trek through the woods toward the obodo. In ten minutes, I reach the edge, hunkered down in the shadows.
“Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes. Other than the huge spotlights focused on the rear of the compound, there are no guards in sight. Not a soldier, not a guard, no infrared beams, nothing.
Either Abena’s negligent as hell or arrogant. Or both. Since she’s greedy as a muthafucka, I’m going with both.
Careless or egotistical she may be, but I still need to be careful if I’m going to infiltrate without being made. Scanning the yard, I note the only patch of shadows cast by the arsenal “shed,” and I dart in that direction. Only when I’m under its overhang do I straighten to my full height.
The side door to the main building stands only feet away. A fire escape climbs the side, but it only reaches the second floor, not the third, where Abena’s apartment lies. Another set of stairs leads to the basement level and security office, a huge training area, gym, and medical center. The door to the main level it’s going to be.
Swiftly crossing the dimly lit area, I pick the lock, and seconds later, it clicks. I silently scoff, twist the knob, and push the door open. In Ma’s time, there would’ve been alarms set on every door and window, and no one would’ve been able to breach the property, much less the house. How far we’ve devolved as a family is pathetic.
