Chapter 32

Chapter

Thirty-Two

MCQUADE

" G loves off, Sugar Bear?"

"Make sure we have what we need first," she cautioned. "I know you may want in and out, but we need to make sure we have it locked and loaded."

"Done," I said. "Also, I'm here. Going silent running for fifteen, twenty max. Standby for transmission. Even if you had the lead, I bet I get mine before you get yours, mate ." I couldn't resist the chance to taunt Remy.

The arrogant Brit turned out to not be so bad. The fact he'd spent several hours in bed with our lady while we did the driving and the watching didn't irritate me at all. Well, it hadn't after I'd seen her relaxed expression, and this while she admitted to remembering.

She remembered being taken.

How she was taken.

She remembered the people who had taken her.

Then she'd given me a gift once we retrieved her snow globe . I was still wrapping my head around the fact her key to the data had been hidden in a snow globe, or at least the triggers for it were.

It didn't matter, she knew how it worked and she was able to unlock the files. Once they were open, she went on a search for the names of specific people. My three targets were all directly related to her interrogations.

The site in Louisiana might have been scrubbed but the operatives there were one of the senior black bag teams working for Colonel St. James. My father's name had also been in the files, but his information had been listed under a sealed warrant.

Patch cracked that like an egg. She really did make it look easy. The warrant was a no touch order. Dad was out, he'd cut ties with the organization, but he respected top secret and eyes only authorizations.

They were stalemated.

He wouldn't shut them down. They wouldn't touch him.

I got it. I didn't like it, but I understood it. Once upon a time, I wouldn't have cared much either. Not my circus and not my monkeys. But all of this involved Patch. They hurt her. They targeted her. They were going to keep coming for her and she didn't have a rank or career to shield her.

But she had us.

Fisting my temper and putting it away, I climbed out of the car. The interrogation facility might have been in Louisiana, but Robert "Bobby" McCoy and Karl Seward were based out of a nondescript little office building a five minute's drive from Dulles Airport.

Patch had tracked them arriving back in state three days earlier and they hadn't left as far as she could tell. The shitty little office building was down a side street, with a lot of other industrial offices and what looked like a tractor repair shop and a detailing place.

At this time of night, it was dead quiet. Nothing moved. There was a vague hum of traffic from the state highway to the north of me, but nothing back here.

The fact there was a subdivision of townhouses at the end of this road was strange. The road dead-ended into trees. A hiking and biking trail were located on the other side. The former site of railroad tracks had been replaced with a paved path that paralleled a more natural one that was kept clear for those wanting to walk dogs or ride horses. A touch of country right there in the burgeoning tech corridor.

The location was just odd. The homes and trails could account for traffic at all hours while the industrial park provided decent daytime coverage for their activities. Most people were just too damn busy doing their own things.

I pulled out the black duffel from the trunk and then checked my weapons. Pausing a beat, I tapped my comm, "Sugar Bear?"

"I'm here, Sugar Lips." The throaty tease made me grin. She could call me whatever she wanted.

"Tell me you're still safe."

I just needed to hear it.

"I'm still safe. All clear here. How about you let me worry about my ass while I watch yours?"

"No can do, Sugar Bear. That sweet ass is all I can think about."

"Focus, McQuade."

"I am focused." On getting some justice for her. "Talk soon."

"I have eyes on you." The promise sent a frisson through me and electricity skated over my skin. No one else I'd rather have at my back. Swinging the duffel back over my shoulder, I freed the Smith & Wesson M&P M2.0 from its holster as I strode across the cracked pavement lot.

With Patch keeping an eye on security, I didn't have to worry about cameras. She also hadn't indicated there were civilians anywhere. It meant I got to have some fun with my prey.

Circling the building, I approached the side door that was hidden from direct sight of the parking lot. Shifting to put the duffel strap over my head so it hung crosswise from my shoulder, I studied the heavy door.

I had charges that would work.

Four small devices, each planted at key points for lock and hinges, and I backed up and around the corner. The blasts were localized, but they would do the job.

I hit the trigger and there were four small pops, followed by a distinctive thud of a heavy door falling. I loved a dramatic entrance.

Striding forward, I walked through the debris and smoke straight inside. A guard fumbled to his feet, but I didn't wait for him. He didn't match the photo I had for my targets, so he got the express pass to getting the fuck out of my way.

Two bullets to the head.

Continuing forward, I slowed at the curve in the hall. Pulling out a flash bang, I flicked out the key pin and then tossed it around the corner. Eyes closed, I gave it the three second count to stun and disorient. Then I started forward.

Two more guys were staggering, one had dropped his weapon. The other was waving his around. Close contact gun to the chest of the gun wielder. I fired twice. Then another clean grouping into the staggering one.

No joy on the targets. But they did have security keycards.

Helpful.

I'd memorized the layout of the place. The offices were down one flight. Everything up here was just for show. The guys did their work in their hellish little pits.

At the end of this hall was an elevator and I used the security pass to open it, then reached inside and inserted a key to lock the elevator to this floor.

Then I went to the stairs.

No easy exits for them. If they had soundproofing down there I might still have time to surprise them. My evening was looking up. I unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and opened it, threw out a couple of flash bangs then closed the door to wait.

Violent cursing carried through the door.

Bingo.

Yanking it open, I stalked through to make my way down the hall. The body armor I was in was light, it would take a shotgun shell, but I'd prefer to not give them that opportunity.

The first guy rushing toward me went down with a swift gun to the face. I had more magazines, but I didn't want to waste the ammo. I zip-tied his hands and feet, then continued on.

I found Robert "Bobby" McCoy first. He rushed me, swinging a knife. I avoided the first two wild slashes easily. Then caught the arm he was using, twisted it back and then broke it with a solid blow to the elbow.

His scream was pure agony as he dropped the knife and to his knees at the same time. Gripping his hair, I jerked his head back. Shaggy brown hair, a scar distorting his upper lip on the right side and dirty stained clothes. The man had no pride in himself.

"Hello, Bobby." I smiled and then slammed him headfirst into the wall before securing him back in his office. A good choice because bullets struck the dry wall next to the door as I started back out.

Oh, someone was actually giving a real fight. Adrenaline surged in my system. I lived for this shit. Especially when it involved dealing with scum who deserved zero mercy.

I returned fire, four shots in rapid succession. Then I released the magazine and reloaded as I headed out. I went low, but I'd already made it halfway down the hall when Karl Seward twisted into the hall again, firing.

His first two shots went over my head, but the third slammed into the tile in front of me. I'd admire his aim later, I returned fire and chased him around the corner. Just as I reached the edge, he pivoted to face me again.

I had a headshot and center mass. He was already a dead man. But I wanted him to suffer first. So no fast passes for him.

Instead of the easier shots, I went for the shoulder of his gun arm. The first shot knocked him back, the second spun him around. He lost the gun, but grabbed for it with his good hand and pointed it.

Clever.

Another two shots in rapid succession. This took his second shoulder and he slammed back against the wall in a spray of crimson. Smears of blood followed him as he sank down to the ground.

"Asshole," the man said through gritted teeth. He wasn't spitting or swearing. His face didn't contort. If anything, you wouldn't even know he was in pain if not for all the damage.

"Pleased to meet you," I told him. He was perfectly manicured, though that wasn't going to do his useless hands any good. His face was smooth, there was no stubble. His expression devoid of even the normal human reactions of shock, pain, fear, or fury. "Karl Seward."

"You know my name," the man said in an empty voice. "Should I be impressed?"

"I don't care if you are or not," I told him then stomped on his right hand as he twitched his fingers toward another weapon at his side.

Now he let out a low-pitched scream. With little regard for his pain or blood loss, I did a quick search of him and removed his weapons before dragging him back toward McCoy's office.

The downstairs offered limited spaces for discussion. Once I set him on the floor and zip-tied him to McCoy, I headed back out to do a full sweep and clear.

Finding no one else, I tapped my comms.

"You're late," she told me tartly and I grinned.

"Couldn't be helped. Shopping was a bitch."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yep, so it was worth it." I made my way back to McCoy's office. "You have any words for these guys?"

A camera on the wall shifted and began to turn slowly. The red light blinked at me once, almost like she was winking and I stepped to the side so she could see into the office.

"That's Shaggy and Mr. Cold." Her confirmation was good. I'd already identified them, but it was helpful to be sure.

I gave her a moment to consider her answer. She'd already taken the gloves off and I had plans for these two. That said, ladies first, and she was the one these assholes hurt.

"No," she said slowly. "They really aren't worth any last words. They were merely the sadistic tools of their masters. I'd be happy to never think of them again."

"Anything you want, Sugar Bear."

"Anything?" Intrigue punched up that word and it wrapped around my dick like she was stroking it. Not the time, I told myself.

"Anything," I promised.

"Dealer's choice then," she said, giving me blanket permission. "But I expect you back here promptly."

"Copy that." The soft beep of going silent had me studying the pair who stared up at me. The confusion on McCoy's face was almost funny. Seward, however, wasn't similarly open in his reactions.

He clearly knew what was coming.

Good, it saved me time and explanations.

"You don't know who we are," McCoy yelled suddenly, trying to lurch forward. Course, the broken arm made such motions excruciating, but couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

"Don't care," I told him.

"You care," Seward informed me. "You don't just break into a secure facility and mow your way through people for fun."

"You misunderstand," I told Seward as I secured my gun and then dropped the duffle onto the top of the desk. I had lots of fun tools inside of it.

I'd start with the pliers. I checked the pair as I took them out.

"I don't care who you are. Or were. Because as of five minutes ago, you're a footnote in someone else's story, if you even rate that much."

"What are you talking about?" McCoy demanded.

"He's not really bright," I said to Seward. "Is he?"

Seward grimaced.

"That makes you the brains and him just the actual mad dog let off his leash."

McCoy shrieked something incoherent, spittle flying from his lips. Yeah, he didn't like being dismissed.

I studied McCoy's hands, and then looked at his legs. Oh… yes, that would work. I put the pliers back and then pulled out a glass bottle from the interior of the bag.

The sudden stuttering silence amused me.

"Who wants to go first?"

Neither volunteered, but I hadn't really expected them too. I did glove up though before I stripped their pants and planted the first bottle up McCoy's ass. He passed out screaming. Seward actually sweated the whole time and he even threw up when I did it to him.

Not the easiest job and it definitely stank, but the whimpers of pain were worth it. That was one piece of flesh she was owed.

Now I'd take the rest.