End Game (Jack Noble #12)

by L. T. Ryan

  “Don’t make me do this, Jack.”

  I turned my head enough to see that she had taken a step back and took a strong stance. Her hands met two feet in front of her. She aimed her firearm at me.

  “If you shoot him, I’ll have no choice but to take your life.” Her voice cracked. “Please don’t do this.”

  I knew she cared more about the information he held than my life, but it felt like she didn’t want to kill me. I took a deep breath, had trouble believing the situation I found myself in. I should’ve shot everyone outside Thanos’s house that night I hid in the woods. Would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.

  Thanos pleaded with me through the gag. His eyes were wet, tears fell down the sides of his cheeks.

  What did his life mean to me? Nothing. But completing this job for the Old Man wasn’t worth the value I placed on my own head.

  I tightened my hand around the pistol, took my finger off the trigger. Then I yanked the gag down past his chin, revealing his battered mouth. He was missing his two top front teeth, and two more on the bottom. They were raw and jagged, and blood spilled out of the corner of his mouth. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to get to his knees.

  “Let me help you.” I grabbed him under his arm and jerked him upward. “Come on, work with me.”

  He let out a loud groan and finally made it to his knees.

  “Thank you.” He looked at me, then her. “Thank you both.”

  “Don’t thank us yet,” I said. “We’re not saving you, just collecting you.”

  He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Who are you?”

  “That’s not important,” Christiana said. Then she turned her attention to me. “Search the men for the keys to the handcuffs.”

  “Let’s just leave them on. Safer that way.”

  “I agree, but at some point we’ll need to get them off and I’d rather not saw through them, or his arms.”

  Thanos took a deep breath and choked back a sob.

  “Was it something she said?”

  He looked away, shaking his head. A difficult situation had come to an end for him, but he wasn’t in the clear, and he realized it. As I searched the dead guy on the floor, I started the process of questioning Thanos. I knew that was part of what Yashkin wanted me there for, and the Old Man had been interested in the information I could extract.

  I decided to attack his ego first. “You must’ve done something incredibly stupid to get your ass dragged all the way out here and beaten like that.”

  Thanos pursed his lips, grimaced, then spat blood on the floor between us.

  I hopped to my feet, stepped up to him. He was a big guy, but on his knees, he only came up to my waist.

  “So tough all of a sudden. You know what I could do to you right now?”

  “Bite me,” he said.

  I swung my heel back, then drove my foot forward into his groin.

  Christiana stood to my side, wincing as she watched Thanos collapse face first onto the ground, landing in his own bloody puddle of spit. Whatever information Thanos held onto was now gone, and she knew it.

  “No key,” I said. “Gonna check the guy outside.”

  The cold hit me like a Zamboni rolling over me. The adrenaline from the shootout had fueled my internal furnace. The snowstorm was about to provide a correction.

  I walked past the guy Christiana had dispatched, he wasn’t going anywhere, and headed out to the street. The snow had covered the asphalt. A nice undisturbed white layer stretched in both directions. No one had come by during our time inside. I worried that a concerned neighbor might swing by, check out the disturbance. Then again, we were out in the country. Rifle shots were common and ignored by locals.

  Glancing above the large sliding doors that dominated the front of the warehouse, I noticed a square cutout aglow around the edges with light. It led to the warehouse loft providing an easy way to load or unload items stored up there. The wind kicked up and rattled the door. It came out a few inches, then slammed shut again.

  I pulled my coat close to my body and tucked my arms over it until I reached the dead guard. Thankfully he hadn’t moved. Would’ve created a whole new set of problems if he had. I wasn’t prepared to test my readiness for the apocalypse. I unzipped his jacket and rifled through his pockets. Found a pack of cigarettes and lighter, which I pocketed, as well as his wallet and a spare pistol. I took the cash from his wallet, and put the pistol in my other pocket. He had no ID or cell phone on him.

  In his pants pocket, I found a keyring with at least a dozen keys on it. It only took a second to weed out the house and car keys, leaving me with three possibilities for the handcuffs.

  I rose and stepped back inside, letting my jacket fall open. I stood there under the heater for a few seconds. Tense muscles relaxed for a couple moments. One more step complete. It was almost over. Soon I’d go home to New York and sleep this nightmare of a job off.

  And then every muscle in my body tensed when I heard the round discharged.

  45

  The gunshot sounded like a cannon traveling down the narrow hallway. The echo and reverberation left me slightly disoriented and confused. The next few seconds seemed to take an hour as I gathered my thoughts and bearings.

  What the hell had just happened? Was Thanos armed, and we missed it? Hell, the guy was half naked on the floor when I left a few minutes ago. There weren’t many places he could’ve been hiding a firearm. And he was handcuffed, making retrieving let alone firing a gun almost impossible.

  Several more shots were fired in rapid succession. Christiana’s scream rose and fell between the sound of a 9mm discharging in rapid succession.

  I armed myself with my pistol and the sidearm I’d looted off the guard, and raced down the makeshift hallway. The sight lines were awful. I feared I’d come face to face with an assailant at each turn.

  Stopping in front of the window like I had earlier, I took in the reflection of the room. The light hanging from the ceiling swayed, possibly it had been hit by a round. The long shadows it cast danced across the floor. Thanos was lying on his stomach, a dark pool around him.

  Where was Christiana? Had she found a way outside?

  What about the shooter?

  I had no idea what she armed herself with. Thinking back to the first shot, it could’ve been a .45. She could’ve used that on Thanos, then emptied her nine, then fled the warehouse. Did that even make sense, though? Five minutes ago I was prepared to finish Thanos and she stopped me.

  Movement caught my attention. It was Christiana. She hadn’t fled after all. In her attempt to secure a better position, she knocked over a stack of boxes. I kept my stare focused on the window, looking for the shooter to reveal himself.

  Christiana tucked herself in between the pallet of boxes and the wall. It wasn’t the best place if the assailant spotted her. Cardboard boxes weren’t going to stop much. Crouched low, she managed to keep herself out of most sight lines unless the guy was on the other side of the wall from me. I wanted her to know I was there, that I had her back, so I took a few steps forward, partially revealing myself to half the room. I tapped on the wall, hoping to draw her attention, and the shooter’s.

  It worked.

  No sooner than she caught sight of me, the cannon erupted again and a hole blew through the drywall above my head. A cloud of building material rained down on me.

  I withdrew a few feet and turned toward the window again. My heart pounded against my chest and my lungs worked overtime. I forced myself to slow my breathing down. In the event a clear shot opened up, I couldn’t ruin it with shaky hands.

  A quick glimmer caught my eye. The shooter had revealed himself as he shifted his sights from me to Christiana. The swinging light in the middle of the room reflected off the rifle scope.

  Was this guy there the whole time? Why had he waited so long to take action?

  Then it hit me. The square door to the loft above the large doors out front. He’d scaled the wall and entered t
hrough there. Had we been tracked? Was it one of Yashkin’s men? Maybe he wanted Thanos, Christiana, and me dead. That could explain why he’d sent me along with her.

  I played the shot in my mind. It wouldn’t be easy, not with a handgun. Unfortunately, the rifle I had used earlier lay on the ground a few feet from Thanos. I had no chance at retrieving it. If anything, I could unload enough on the guy that he’d retreat and Christiana would have time to reach my position, then we could flee the warehouse.

  I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes. Counted back from five. Then I swung around the edge and opened fire.

  Only nothing happened. My sidearm had jammed. I tossed it and reached for the backup.

  Christiana rose slightly. It wasn’t much. A few inches. But it was all the shooter needed.

  I rushed toward her.

  The guy stiffened as he lined up his shot. The rifle exploded in a violent eruption that sent me skidding to my knees, falling back over my ankles. Christiana’s head snapped sideways as her torso slammed back into the wall. She stood there for a moment, then slid down, leaving behind a thick crimson trail.

  I lifted my left hand and fired six rounds at the loft. No clue if I came anywhere near the guy as my eyes were fixed on the ceiling. I flung my feet out in front of me and caught a glimpse of the shooter as he turned and retreated deep into the loft. He wasn’t hiding. The loft door slammed against the frame. The guy had jumped outside.

  I hurried past Thanos to Christiana. She lay motionless on the floor, her hand covering a blossoming stain on her dark jacket. I knelt down, grabbed her wrist. Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked around, settled on me for a moment.

  “Oh, Christ, you’re still with us,” I said.

  She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but said nothing. Her eyes clenched shut, mouth twisted into a pained grimace. I moved her hand to the side and unzipped the jacket. She’d been hit close enough to the heart that it didn’t make sense she was still alive. I worked the fabric of her shirt open and tore a large chunk off, folded it, placed her hand on top of the wound.

  “You hang in there. You hear me?”

  She blinked her eyes open, licked her lips, and managed a few words. “Don’t…don’t let them…find me…here. I-I-I…can’t be…found…like…this. Please, Jack.” Her eyes closed for a few moments. She swallowed hard. “My husband and children can’t know.”

  I squeezed her left hand. “They won’t. You be strong for a few more minutes. I’m gonna go take care of this asshole.”

  Her chances of making it out of that warehouse alive were slim, whether I stayed or not. It wasn’t in my nature to sit by while an asshole made an escape. I zipped my jacket, pulled my hood tight. On the way to the exit I cleared my pistol of its jam, then holstered it and armed myself with the rifle.

  The heavy snow reduced visibility to a few feet. Seemed that way, at least. All I could see was white upon white. It had accumulated four inches or so already. The air was thick with woodsmoke. Maybe there was a house closer than I thought.

  Halfway across the front of the warehouse, I spotted the first tracks. Footprints, a handprint, and two divots where his knees had hit after jumping from the loft. They led toward the woods Christiana and I had trekked through.

  A strong gust of wind hit me from the behind. The overhead door whipped back and cracked against the steel facade. A dim cone of light cast down on the ground illuminating me.

  I felt naked and exposed out there with a shooter nearby. Had he taken off running, or was he lurking nearby? I darted out of the light and toward the corner of the building.

  I didn’t make it there in time.

  The muzzle blast caught my eye before I heard the thunderous gunshot and felt the searing pain in my side.

  46

  The impact of the shot spun me back to the left until I collided with the front of the building. The impact jarred the rifle loose from my left hand. It thudded when it hit the ground a few feet away. The swirling snow and constant drone of the wind left me trying to figure out which way was which. I had to move, but my first step sent me careening face first into the snowfall.

  Get up!

  The voice of my father yelled out in my head. I was ten years old again, on the mat, trying to manage a breath into my crippled lungs after he’d laid me out.

  I looked up at the building. The loft door danced back and forth throwing light and shadows all around.

  The woods.

  I turned my attention back to the thick trees where the shooter had fled. Was he still there? And where was the rifle? I couldn’t see it, so I felt around the snow. No luck.

  I had to get to my feet and move. I drew my left knee up. Waves of pain rode up and down my side, causing me to call out.

  Across the distance I heard him chamber another round. My outburst had led him right to my position.

  Grimacing against the pain, I tightened every muscle and flung myself upward, driving my right foot forward. My left hand instinctively went to my side at the site of the wound. I worked my fingers around to figure out where I’d been hit. The pain centralized on the outside of my hip near the waistline. I pushed in hard to gauge whether the bone had been fractured or shattered. It hurt like hell, but nothing moved or crunched. And I had mobility. Must’ve just grazed me.

  The building offered the best cover, so I made my move.

  He fired again. Missed.

  I kept going until my right shoulder plowed into the steel. What now? I could retreat back into the building and figure out a way to reach out to Yashkin. Christiana had to have some way to communicate with him. There were only a couple of ways to get inside, and I could cover them from one location while doing my best to keep her alive.

  Rage built inside me. I could taste it like acid-coated steel forced into my gut. No way I let this guy go without a fight.

  I pulled my pistol. The magazine still held fourteen rounds. I aimed toward the woods and fired one every few seconds while sprinting across the field. The snow bit at my face. My hip burned, feeling as though it tore with every step. I plowed forward, unable to see much at all, just white and the shadow of the looming woods in the distance. The pistol ratcheted my wrist up and back with every shot. Gunpowder overpowered my senses.

  With the first line of trees in sight, I stuck out my left arm and prepared to stop myself. Not the best move. My hip slammed into the tree trunk, sending a bolt of fire and lightning through my side. I slammed my mouth shut, grunted through my teeth, choking a scream in my throat. I couldn’t give away my location again.

  Another rifle shot ricocheted through the woods. The round thudded against a nearby tree. Chunks of bark and wood flew at me. I took cover facing the warehouse. Through the storm the light from the loft grew brighter and then dimmer.

  Was Christiana still alive? Had I made a mistake leaving so quickly? What of the items Thanos had brought with him? I could’ve left something important in there. Once the police secured the area, there’d be no chance of recovering it. I realized though that if Thanos had something of value to negotiate with, he wouldn’t have been held in such a precarious position.

  The night grew silent again except for the soft sound of falling snow. I stepped out from behind my cover and moved deeper into the woods. Each step was placed slow and deliberate to avoid making too much noise. I stopped every ten feet, listened through the howling wind for signs of the shooter.

  I wondered if he was there for us, or if he’d happened upon us. The unexpected delivery truck suddenly made sense. This guy was probably in back. While the guard was distracted, he hid across the street. Once inside, he took Thanos out first, so it made sense to assume that had been his primary target. Everyone else was collateral damage.

  Everything went still. I froze in place when he racked the rifle. Where the hell was the guy? Where would the shot come from? There were a half-dozen options for cover and I couldn’t decide on a single one.

  “You coulda lived, asshole.”

&
nbsp; I turned toward the sound of his voice, but a cracking sound further to the right caught my attention. I dropped into a squatting stance, pistol extended, attempting to see through the night. The snow still fell, but not as intensely in the forest. Still, it was thick with shadows and trees and impossible to tell what was happening beyond ten feet.

  He said, “Put your hands up, discard your weapon, and I might let you live.”

  I didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure where I was now.

  “Unless you’d like to end up like that traitor and the bitch back there.”

  He was trying to goad me into a response, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The more he talked, the more he gave himself away.

  “You’re a real dumbass, Noble.”

  He knew me?

  The words played over and over as I closed my eyes and let my instincts guide me in the right direction. Get this wrong, and I’d give myself away. All he had to do was have his eyes open and he’d know where to shoot.

  I took a deep breath, swung my outstretched arm left, then fired.

  He grunted, yelled, “God dammit!”

  Something hit the ground. It was solid but too light to have been him. I rose and took off in the direction I’d fired. It didn’t take long to find him. He was crouched over, one arm tight to his stomach, the other reaching for something on the ground.

  He grabbed the buttstock and lifted his rifle. I’d managed to shoot it out of his hand. Had I taken a digit or two along with it?

  I could easily dispatch the guy right then and there. But he had information that would die with him. I held on tight to the pistol and closed the gap between us with a sprint. He looked up at me when I was a couple of feet away, brought the rifle up in defense like he wielded a staff.

  I turned into him with my injured side, wrapped my left arm around the rifle. He struck out with his good hand, landed a blow to my cheek. My head snapped back to the left. I stared up at the treetops and falling snow for a moment.