Chapter 19
19
Two long days later, Alex’s muscles ached from hours of stillness as she crouched behind a weathered Ford pickup, her eyes fixed on the ramshackle house across the quiet residential street. The previous day’s mad dash back down the coast and the nerve-wracking infiltration of her own headquarters to gather as much of Gabriel’s equipment as they could, felt like a lifetime ago.
Now, she and Jason crouched in a sliver of shade, sweat pouring down their backs, watching lifelike holograms of him and Gravy moving about inside the decoy safe house, visible through grimy windows.
She allowed herself a moment of pride. The AI-generated traffic cam footage of Jason and Gravy driving through the San Fernando Valley would have set Seven-Five’s facial recognition software ablaze. Now, all that remained was to spring the trap.
A hot breeze ruffled her hair, carrying the scent of nearby ocean mixed with urban decay. This neighborhood had seen better days, all peeling paint and chain-link fences. Perfect camouflage for their operation, but it made her skin crawl with unease. Bright and sunny this place was not.
She glanced at Jason. Jaw tight, he scanned the street. His earlier words echoed in her mind: “I’ll handle the retrieval. You stay back, no matter what.”
She had nodded, agreeing outwardly while knowing full well she’d intervene if things went south. He might have years of black ops experience, but she wasn’t a helpless civilian. The weight of her weapon against her hip was a reassuring presence.
Movement at the end of the block caught her attention. Two men in scuffed work boots and faded mechanics’ coveralls ambled toward the house, tool belts slung low on their hips. To any casual observer, they’d pass for local handymen. But Alex noted the too-careful way they moved, the constant scanning of their surroundings.
“Showtime,” she breathed.
Jason’s hand brushed her arm—a silent command to stay put—before he melted into the shadows. Alex’s pulse leapt as she watched him slink closer to the unsuspecting operatives, his movements fluid and predatory as he utilized the ample cover the cluttered neighborhood provided.
She watched him in the truck’s side mirror and lifted a prayer for his safety.
Suddenly, Jason burst into action. The first operative barely had time to widen his eyes before Jason’s Sig Sauer appeared, aimed squarely at the man’s chest.
“Don’t move,” Jason growled.
The operative’s hand plunged into his pocket. Jason didn’t hesitate. He fired, the shot echoing through the quiet street. The man cried out as the bullet tore through his shoulder, the handgun he’d grabbed clattering to the ground as he fell.
“One down,” Alex whispered, her eyes darting to the second target.
Jason spun, his voice low but carrying to Alex’s ears. “Your turn, dude. Easy way or hard way?”
Weapon now in hand, the second operative raised his arm.
Jason sited in on him. “Hard way it is.”
But instead of standing his ground, or firing, the man bolted.
Jason snatched up a fist-sized chunk of the cracked sidewalk.
“Nice try.” He hurled the makeshift projectile.
The rock caught the fleeing man square between the shoulder blades. He stumbled, arms pinwheeling, before crashing face-first onto the pavement with a sickening thud.
“Nice throw,” Alex breathed, a fleeting moment of relief washing over her.
But that relief evaporated instantly as movement caught her eye. A third figure emerged from between two parked cars a hundred yards up the street. “Jason, three o’clock!”
Her warning rang out sharply. He didn’t hesitate, diving to the side as a shot cracked through the air, missing him by inches. He rolled, coming up in a crouch behind a parked car.
Alex watched with her heart in her throat as the third operative swung his weapon towards Jason’s position. His face was a mask of cold determination beneath a black ball cap, finger tightening on the trigger. Jason might be black ops trained, but his opponent had the advantage of superior positioning.
In a contest between equals, that could be deadly.
For a split second, she hesitated, torn between following orders and protecting Jason. But as she saw the man’s finger start to squeeze, something snapped inside her.
She bolted to her feet. The operative caught sight of her, backing into the shadows. But not before Alex noted the slim figure and delicate features. A woman. Not that it mattered.
In one fluid motion, Alex raised her weapon and fired.
The shot rang out, cutting through the tense silence. The woman flinched and ducked, her own shot at Jason going wide.
Alex dropped back down, her heart pounding. She’d given away her position, but Jason was safe.Hopefully, she’d distracted the other woman long enough for Jason to gain the advantage.
More gunfire. Two shots in rapid succession. Alex watched in horror as both operatives—the one Jason had shot in the shoulder and the one he’d just downed with the rock—jerked violently, then went still. Blood began to pool beneath their motionless forms.
“No!” Her mind reeled at the sudden, brutal turn of events.
The shooter melted away into the maze of alleyways before either she or Jason could react. The acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
Distant sirens wailed, growing louder by the second. The neighborhood, moments ago silent and still, now buzzed with the sound of slamming doors and curious voices.
Jason ran toward her from the far side of the street. “We need to bail. Now!”
Her training kicked back in, pushing shock aside as they fled. Her eyes darted everywhere, cataloging potential cameras or witnesses. She spotted a traffic cam at the upcoming intersection and made a mental note to hack into it later, if possible.
“This way.” She pulled Jason down a narrow alley strewn with overflowing garbage bins. The stench was overwhelming, but it provided cover from prying eyes.
As they ran, the bitter taste of failure mixed with adrenaline. They’d come for intel and instead were fleeing a double homicide.
Not ideal.
She sucked air into her burning lungs as they paused to catch their breath behind a boarded-up store. “The third shooter was a woman.”
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow the thought of another woman killing in cold blood …
Okay, it mattered.
“Good to know,” Jason responded, releasing the catch on his pistol to check the magazine.
She forced herself to focus on the important issues. “What if they knew we were coming? Either our communications with our teams are compromised, or?—”
Jason shoved the magazine back into the gun’s grip. “If we were compromised, we’d be dead already. Why let me take out those men before firing on us? That was Seven-Five cleaning house. That third operative must have fallen behind the other two for some reason. Once she came upon the scene, she realized she couldn’t take me down, so she did the next best thing: don’t leave possible captives. Seven-Five doesn’t tolerate failure, and they won’t leave us any more loose ends.”
Her knees wobbled. If he was right, and Seven-Five was this ruthless with their own operatives, what hope did she and Jason have?
They were in deeper trouble than ever before, caught between a shadowy organization and the full force of law enforcement. But as the gravity of their situation settled over her, she felt something else beneath the fear—a cold, hard knot of rage.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but laced with steel. “We almost died back there. Those men—they were executed. By their own teammate.”
Jason nodded, his face grim. “Welcome to the big leagues, Mendoza. This is what we’re up against.”
“No. This is what they’re up against now. Us.” She looked up at him, her eyes hard. “They just started a war.”