Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

by Shupert, Derek

  I glanced up at Anna from my knees, shifted my weight, and raised both brows.

  The buttstock of Heavyset’s AK hit the top part of my shoulders, sending me face first to the concrete.

  “Believe me. I’m not here by choice,” she answered, raising her tone.

  Antonio pulled the heater from the waistband and pointed it at her head. I stayed on the floor.

  “So, you’re working, then?” Antonio asked, shifting his gaze between Anna and me.

  “In a way, but it’s complicated,” Anna replied, keeping her hands in the air. “It’s not what you’re thinking, though.”

  “Complicated. It’s always complicated when it comes to you, Lady Death.” Antonio said. “Are you here to kill us? Kill the boss man? I can tell you right now, that’s not going to happen.”

  “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have knocked on the door,” Anna answered in a curt manner. “There are a number of other ways I could’ve gotten in here and you know that.”

  Antonio shrugged. “Still, that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve seen the sorts of things you can do.”

  Anna sighed. “Listen. We don’t have time for this. I need to speak with Domingo now. Where is he?”

  “Speak with me. I’ll give you two minutes to explain why you’re here before I pop you and your friend in the head,” Antonio replied.

  Anna glanced down at me, then over to Antonio. “It’s about the information you recently got on the McCones.”

  “Those worthless cockroaches. So they hired you, then?” Antonio adjusted his fingers over the grip of the piece. He shifted his weight between his legs.

  “Like she said. It’s a bit more complicated than that,” I shot back, sitting upright.

  Antonio turned, then looked at me. “No one was ask—”

  Anna knocked the barrel of the AK away with her forearm. The weapon fired a single round toward the back of the building. Fire flashed from the muzzle. The sharp report hammered my ears.

  Heavyset trained his AK at her. I turned and stood, grabbed the hand grip, then shoved it toward the ceiling. He squeezed the trigger, firing off multiple rounds.

  I kneed him in his plump gut then ripped the AK from his hands. I shouldered the rifle, aimed it at his head, then turned on my heels to face Antonio and his other men.

  Anna had Antonio’s piece in her hand. She stood a foot away from him, the barrel trained at his skull. He lifted his hands, then gulped. The smug look had vanished.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Antonio said, his mouth crooked and teeth gnashed.

  “Like I said, we didn’t have a choice. I don’t want to kill you, or your men, but I will if need be,” Anna replied, keeping the pistol deadlocked on him.

  The line of men flanking Antonio aimed their weapons on Anna, then over to me.

  “Tell your men to lower their weapons now,” I said, staring at Antonio.

  He kept his gaze focused on Anna, then moved his two fingers. “Lower your guns. Do as he says.”

  The armed men lowered their weapons without question.

  Anna grabbed Antonio by his jacket, then wrenched him around. She shoved the barrel to his skull. “Take us to Domingo, now. I’m not going to ask again. I’m going to speak with him whether you’re with me or not. He’s going to want to hear what we have to say.”

  “All right. Fine.” Antonio got on the move with Anna right behind him. His men stepped out of her way, allowing them to pass. I fell in line behind her, covering our backs.

  “Where’s he at? His office?” Anna asked, pushing him forward.

  “No. He’s in one of the offices on the first floor,” Antonio answered.

  Two of his men stayed near the side entrance to the building while the other three guards flanked us, following at a close distance. They trained their flashlights ahead of us, lighting the way.

  We made our way through the storage area, passing by steel racks that had various pallets stored in the bays. Black shrink wrap concealed the contents stored on each.

  Antonio pushed his way through the lone black door, leading us into a narrow hallway. Anna kept a tight grip on the collar of his jacket, then looked either way down the long stretch of hallway.

  I backed out of the warehouse with his men trailing us, keeping the AK shouldered and at the ready.

  Portable lights shined down the corridor, breaking up the darkness into small chunks. We skirted past the edge of the door and continued down the hallway.

  His men funneled out of the doorway and stayed on our heels. They kept their attention locked on us, AKs shouldered and pistols trained in our direction.

  We slipped past the blind corner and continued down the hallway a bit farther. Two more men, armed with AKs, were stationed near an office. They looked our way, then brought the rifles to bear.

  Antonio raised his hand. “Lower your weapons.” They hesitated. “Do it now.”

  Both men lowered their weapons, watching as we approached the set of double wood doors.

  “Go on. Take us inside.” Anna pushed him toward the door. “Your men stay out here. Am I understood?”

  “You heard her.” Antonio barked at his men. “Remain out in the hallway and do not come inside.” He pushed the doors open.

  I walked past the two men, glancing at each as we moved inside Domingo’s office. Both men turned and stared at me with scowls on their vexed faces. I shut the doors behind us, then turned around to the large, spacious office that had a few tabletop lanterns spread throughout.

  A thin bead of light shone through the slits between the blinds that tilted down at an angle. It did little to brighten the room.

  A Hispanic man sat behind a metal desk, looking up at us. The lantern at the corner of the desktop shined on the left side of his face. He leaned to the side, then bent down.

  Anna removed the pistol from Antonio’s head, then pointed it at him. “Leave it be, Domingo, and show me your hands.”

  He stopped, then sat up straight in his chair. He raised his arms in the air, then narrowed his eyes at us. “What the hell is the meaning of this, Anna? Have you lost your damn mind?”

  “We’re just here to talk.” Anna pulled back on Antonio’s jacket. He stopped.

  I swept the large, empty room for any more men, but found none. I covered the entrance, then glanced over my shoulder at Domingo.

  “Doesn’t look like you’re here to just chat,” he said, his voice laced with contempt. “Not many people have ever survived after pointing a gun at me. You’re making a big mistake here.”

  Anna scanned the room. “Like I told your lapdog here, if I wanted you dead, there would be a hole in your head right now. I’m just here to talk, but we don’t have much time. The McCones have an SUV parked a few blocks down waiting for us to return, or they’ll come in here with guns blazing. I suggest we don’t waste time.”

  “I’d like to see those bastards try something.” Domingo pointed at us. “Talk about what? We have no business to discuss. Not since parting ways after your last job.”

  “It’s about the information you recently got on the McCones,” Anna answered from behind Antonio.

  “How do you know about that?” Domingo asked. “Did they contract you or something to get it back? Is that why you’re here?”

  Anna shook her head. “Not exactly. The bottom line is they want their property back and you dead.”

  Domingo snickered. “What else is new? We’ve been gunning for one another for years. I’ve finally got some dirt on their operation and I’m not looking to give it up without a fight. You know as well as I do, I have many more men stationed inside this building. You kill me, the odds of you and your friend here getting out alive will be null.”

  “Yeah, I know that.” Anna glanced over at me. I nodded. “What if I offered an alternative solution, though? One that could see you get a foothold on the McCones.”

  Domingo rubbed his chin for a moment. “Such as?”

  “Give me the data you took and
I’ll deliver it back to the McCones. I’ll tell them that you’re dead and no longer a threat,” Anna replied, looking at me again.

  Domingo sat in his chair, then chuckled at the suggestion. He waved his hands around. “Is this some sort of joke? Am I missing the punchline here? How does me giving up that data and you telling them I’m dead help me out?”

  “You’ll no longer be a threat to them if they believe you’re dead,” Anna replied. “I come back with the file and tell them the job’s completed, and they’ll believe. You know me and how I operate. They won’t be looking out for you any longer, giving you a window to strike at them.”

  “I do know how you operate. That’s part of my hesitation. You’re good at manipulating people.” Domingo shook his finger at her. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I’m not trying to mess you over or anything,” Anna said, speaking in an even manner. “Consider this my way of making good on that job that went sideways. I know you lost money and men on that.”

  “I did, but more so, it gave my enemies confidence that they could move on me,” Domingo replied. “That’s something that hasn’t happened in a long time.”

  “Are we good to talk business, then?” Anna shot back.

  Domingo stroked his square chin with two fingers, mulling it over. “We’re good, for now.”

  Anna released Antonio’s collar, then lowered the pistol from the back of his skull. She took a step back and put her arms up.

  Antonio moved toward the desk, then turned around to face us. His nostrils flared with anger and his chest heaved.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Anna, confused by her actions. “You sure about this?”

  Anna secured the piece in the front waistband of her jeans, keeping her focus trained on Domingo. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  I lowered the barrel of my AK to the floor. My finger stayed on the trigger as I watched both men.

  Antonio looked at Domingo, then pointed at us. “We shouldn’t trust them. This is a trap. They’re setting you up for something big. I say we kill both of them, then worry about the McCones.”

  Domingo raised his hand at Antonio, shushing him. “This could work to our advantage. You know how hard it’s been to get a leg up on the McCones. This could be the break we’ve been looking for, and she could be our ticket to making it happen. Besides, she owes us and it’s not like we don’t have backups of the data.”

  “Still, this could screw us over big time,” Antonio shot back.

  “This isn’t a ploy or ruse,” Anna said. “You hit them hard right now with everything you’ve got. With the power being down, you being dead, and your men scattered to the winds, they wouldn’t be expecting such a move. You’d have the element of surprise. Plus, you’d have us on the inside helping you out.”

  Antonino shook his head, then folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not liking this. Not at all. It all seems shady to me.”

  “It’s not, but if you want to take your chances with trying to kill us, I invite you to try,” Anna replied, turning toward Antonio and looking at him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

  Domingo stood from his chair, then shoved his hand into the front pocket of his trousers. He walked around the desk, past Antonio who sighed in frustration.

  “Don’t do it. They’re—”

  “I’ve heard your piece,” Domingo said.

  My fingers readjusted over the hand grip of the AK as I watched Domingo pull his hand out from the pocket. He approached Anna, who didn’t flinch or reach for the piece in her waistband.

  “Just remember what happens to people who try to mess me over,” Domingo said, handing her the thumb drive. “I’d hate to have to carve up this body of yours or dismember your associate over there.”

  I stared at Domingo without blinking.

  Anna took the small drive, then shoved it into the front pocket of her jeans. “I remember. How fast can you and your men mobilize?”

  “How many men we have on site?” Domingo asked while looking down at Anna.

  “Around fifteen or so if we pull everyone,” Antonio answered.

  Domingo looked at me, then back down to Anna. “Get them prepared and ready to move in thirty.”

  Anna nodded. “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  SCARFACE

  Blood dripped from the tips of my fingers and splattered against the concrete floor. I towered over the dead man’s body. Another victim had fallen at my hands, set free from this unforgiving, cruel world.

  I grabbed a handful of his vest and dragged his dead weight across the floor. I stuffed him into a small storage room out of the way and continued on. In his last moments of life, he’d divulged Jackal’s whereabouts—a secured room at the far end of the building. Only five men stood between me and Jackal.

  I kept to the shadows of the hallway, moving at a good clip. The silence inside the building made it easy to track the men walking the halls. Each footfall gave away their positions, allowing me to stalk them with ease.

  The dagger tasted their flesh, spilling more blood. Two fell with minimal effort, bleeding out from the gash across their throats. The third caught a lucky strike across the side of my face, adding to the scars already there.

  We grappled in one of the rooms filled with various supplies and a few desks. He punched me, his gloved hand raking across the open wound. The damaged flesh burned hot as more blood seeped out and dripped from my chin.

  He drove me back into a small desk. The feet scrapped across the tile floor, sounding a warning. His hand shoved against my chin, forcing my head back. He pinned my arm holding the dagger to the top of the desk.

  I struck his forearm with my elbow, fighting to get free. Each hard blow weakened his grip some, but not enough to remove his hand.

  He grabbed me by the throat and squeezed. My hand felt along the top of the desk, searching for anything I could use against him.

  The world grew dim. Each breath was harder than the last. I gasped for air.

  My fingers grazed something long and sharp, like a blade of some sort. I grabbed the handle and stabbed his forearm. He wailed in pain, but the mask muffled his voice.

  His hold around my throat and arm lessened. I kneed him in the side, then rammed my foot into his chest. He stumbled backward, reaching for the letter opener that stuck out of his arm.

  I sat up, struggling to breathe. My hand massaged my throat. He yanked the letter opener from his forearm, then tossed it to the floor. It clanged off the tile.

  He charged me again. I stabbed him above his jugular notch. He stopped dead in his tracks, then reached for his throat. I stabbed him in the side of the neck twice. He dropped to his knees, then fell forward to the floor.

  I searched near the desk and around his body for my pistol. He’d knocked it free from my hands during our encounter. It had slid across the floor, vanishing into the dark area behind the desk and stacks of crinkled boxes.

  I settled for his sidearm, pulling the Glock 17 from the holster on the side of his hip. I racked the slide and headed for the hallway.

  Footfalls sounded from the way I’d come, closing in on my position. I skirted the edge of the doorway and moved down the corridor with the Glock trained ahead. Lights moved along the wall from the hallway ahead of me.

  I stopped shy of the corner and waited. The jostling of gear caught my ear. I peered around the edge and spotted two men inbound with rifles shouldered.

  The lights swept the corridor, then shone at the blind corner. I leaned away, took a step back, and trained the Glock at the hall. The footfalls trailing me drew closer, boxing me in. I glanced over my shoulder, then faced forward.

  My finger rested on the trigger. The lights grew brighter. They breached the corner. I pulled the trigger, shooting the armed gunman closest to me in the side of his head. He fell to the floor face first.

  His partner turned toward me and ran forward. The beam from his light washed across my body. I rushed him, firing two rounds.
One hit his vest dead center. The other went wide, clipping the side of his neck. His arm released the hand grip and palmed the hole in the side of his neck, trying to stay the blood that pumped out.

  I knocked the rifle toward the floor, then slammed the Glock against the side of his head. He dumped over onto his side and twitched for a moment, then stopped.

  A faint yell loomed in the near distance from the direction the two men came. I took off in a mad dash. The noise grew louder with each passing second.

  A door opened ten paces ahead of me from the side of the hallway. A figure stepped out of the dimly lit room with a pistol clutched in his hands. He turned toward me, then brought his piece to bear.

  The red markings on his tactical vest caught my eye. He no longer had the mask on, showing off his crew cut and the wiry beard that lined his jaw.

  We fired at the same time. Sparks flashed from my Glock and his heater. I closed in. His round struck the side of my coat, tearing through the fabric. It didn’t break the skin that I could tell.

  I hit him in the shoulder. Crew-cut stumbled back against the door, then lowered the pistol. He gritted his teeth, then cut his eyes back to me. Anger and pain swelled on his tormented face.

  Crew-cut swapped the pistol to his other hand and stood up straight. I closed in and fired another round, hitting him right between the eyes. His head snapped back, and his legs buckled. He dropped to the floor.

  I stopped shy of the doorway, then peered around the edge. Jackal hung in the center of the empty room from a chain wrapped around his wrists. The tips of his shoes scrapped along the floor. A blindfold covered his eyes. He yelled through the gag shoved in his mouth, and thrashed his body.

  The sharp reports of gunfire stalked me. The incoming rounds hammered the door. I flinched, ducked, then slipped inside the room over to the wall past the edge of the door.

  “Good to see you in one piece,” I said, pressing my back against the doorframe.

  Jackal yelled louder, but I couldn’t understand his muffled words.

  I peered down the hallway, then craned my neck. Muzzle fire flashed from the lone gunman closing in. The rounds punched the edge of the door. I rolled away, waiting for the gunfire to ebb.