Page 29 of Oath
The smirk vanished from O’Rourke’s face. His eyes flicked toward the bar, the kitchen—he was calculating. Fast. Too fast.
Voodoo had him by the front of his shirt and hauled him up before he could finish his thought. “Tell me you didn’t bring all this down on purpose.”
“I didn’t?—”
“Tell me with your hands behind your back.”
Shoving him against the wall, Voodoo caught the flex-cuff I tossed him from my belt. The fact O’Rourke didn’t struggle toldus a lot. Either he was innocent, or he was damn sure someone else was doing the dirty work so his hands stayed clean.
Either way, we didn’t have time to play this game.
“Team of four. Two dismounting now. Kitchen and side hatch. No chatter on open comms. All tac-quiet. They’re professionals.”
Alphabet kept us in the loop using the drone we’d parked in a fuel station sign an hour earlier.
I dropped low and moved behind the bar. Bone-dry. No one stashed there. No surprise. Sandy never came back from her little walk.
The air shifted. I smelled it—burnt oil, sweat, friction.
“One’s on the roof,”Alphabet said.“He’s got overwatch on the front.”
I slipped the flashbang from my coat. Clipped. Primed.
Three seconds.
Tick. Tick. Boom.
I lobbed it toward the kitchen door just as it creaked open. The door didn’t even get a chance to swing fully before the grenade hit the tiles and?—
KRACK!
A pulse of white light and bone-shaking sound tore through the back half of the bar.
I moved. Hard and fast. Low. My gun was up before the echo died. The Remington 870 bucked once, the bark deafening even after the flashbang.
One down in the kitchen. Camouflage fatigues. No insignia. No name. Just a blank mask and suppressed MP7 clattering to the floor.
Not cartel.
Not mercs.
Wetwork.
Bones came in through the side door. I saw him just as he moved—a shadow moving like smoke, silent and brutal.
The second intruder barely got a shot off before Bones had him up against the cooler, elbow driving into his throat, knees snapping tendon. The man collapsed in a heap.
Not saying a word, Bones just gave me a nod, then moved toward the stairs leading to the basement tunnel. He knew better than anyone: there was always a second wave.
“Roof’s clear,”Alphabet called in.“Sniper’s down. Looks like Bones got him from below—made him step back onto a pressure plate. Cute trick.”
“That was mine,” I muttered, jogging back to the table as Voodoo dragged O’Rourke upright again. “Little welcome mat surprise.”
O’Rourke’s face was pale. “You brought a kill team?”
“No,” I said. “Youdid.”
“Wait,”Alphabet cut in, voice sharp now.“Third vehicle just rolled up. This one’s different—four doors, black SUV, full tint. VIP transport pattern.”
