Falcon shook his head. “Doesn’t work. They won’t buy her strolling back like that. We have to find a way to get in unseen.”
“Hang glide on the roof,” Snake proposed. “From the roof to the garden and in the living room.”
“No.”
Snake hands shot up in frustration. “Damn it, Falcon, why not?”
“Cause you’re dead as soon as you touch the grass. Cameras are everywhere, no blind spots.”
“See?” Snake said to Ann, crossed. “That’s why Bear does all the planning.”
Silence fell.
Ann combed her disheveled hair with her fingers. “I understand the problem is to keep our attack secret from Benson as long as we can, right?”
“It's not really an attack,” Snake corrected, “but yes.”
“Why? I mean, who cares? Benson’s in Miami with a lot of her men, and can’t come back until the clients are safe and satisfied. Her men will give the alarm, but–”
“But by the time they do it they’re about the die, and Benson can’t send other troops faster than our getaway,” Snake finished for her. “We bulldozer in, kill whoever, take Bear and Boss and we’re out.”
“It’s cheapo,” Falcon countered. “Out of control.”
“Yeah, well, Bear and Boss were the ones with the perfect plan. They’re not here. We have to make do.”
“How do we get in?”
Snake’s smile was big so big Ann shivered with apprehension.
“I got a plan.”
Chapter 26
Falcon shook his head, shifted his weight in the brown dust of the construction side three houses down Benson’s. “I still think this is nuts.”
“You know what’s nuts?” Snake jumped down from the track loader. “That we didn’t bring the bazooka with us. God, I miss it.”
Falcon shook his head and left.
Black still mastered the sky, but its reign would be put to an end in a while. Something was rising up like morning mist, slithering. For Ann, it was fear.
For the men, it was adrenalin. It nearly crackled around them like overcharged energy, turning their eyes more focused and more savage, quickening their breath.
Ann couldn’t breathe at all.
A black woolly cap hit her belly; out of instinct, she grabbed it.
“Put it on,” Falcon said as he walked past her. “You’re too blond, it’s like a neon light. Cover it.”
“You sure you want to do this?” Snake asked her.
“I am.” She wasn’t. She wasn’t ready on so many levels, but it was pointless thinking about it. However, as she’d said to Mark, she didn’t help her sister, but she would help him. Besides, she only had to drive a track loader through a gate and a wall. How hard could it be?
“You can change your mind at any time, Lady Bear. Until we’re there.” Snake told her, walking at her side. “Once we leave, all you can do is dance with us.”
She saw the implications, the responsibility for more than just her, more than just saving Mark. As part of a team, she would rely on them for her safety, but they would rely on her for theirs. She clenched her teeth, steadied her voice. “I won’t let you down.”
Snake’s voice was nearly a yelp. “I know, but you’re so tiny.”
“Come on, don’t be so worried. Pretend…. Pretend I’m Mark.”
“He’s 6’5 and 250 pounds of pissed man,” he pointed out evenly. “No offense, but it’s more reassuring.”
“Use your imagination. Shall we?”
“I guess.”
When she nodded, he whistled a long sound before returning his attention to her and the task at hand. “Remember: driving this thing is just like a video game. Left joystick to go forward, left or right. The right joystick?”
“It’s for the lift arm and I don’t touch it.”
“That’s right. The lift arm’s a shield, you keep it up and stay low. Don’t worry about looking where you’re going. It’s not easy to miss the gate or a wall, and we’ll guide you if you need it. Anything happens, you have a gun strapped to your waist. Use it with generosity. Now, what do we do?”
“I drive this thing as fast as it can go through the fence, and tear down the garage door. When we’re in, I hide, you kill the bad guys, free Mark and we all run away.”
“Good. They’ll be waiting for us, they’ll react fast. We have to be angry.”
“I’m angry,” she said, squeezing her fists midair to reinforce her words. “Very angry.”
Snake rubbed a hand over his eyes, tiredly. “Oh, God,” he heaved. “Just get on the damn thing and stay alive.”
He and Falcon jumped at the back of the cab, holding on the roof with one hand. Ann roughly guessed that Snake carried some hundred pounds worth of weapons on him. It was, indeed, more reassuring than Falcon’s couple of guns.
Her look didn’t go lost on the men. “Falcon goes for quality. I like quantity.” Snake grinned. “Let’s roll, Lady Bear.”
The engine’s rumble rubbed Ann’s chest raw, beat her ears, and the track loader wasn’t that easy to drive, but instinct worked its magic.
Holding the joystick as a sword, with two guardian angels armed to the teeth in the back of the cab, Ann drove on. She shut down her ethics, her awareness, her sense, and just drove.
For being big and stiff, the track loader was fast. Soon they were at the gate and running through it in a waterfall of metal, noise and not as many bumps as she’d thought.
The lift-arm in front of her hid her frontal view, but as the gate went down, lights in the villa shone as a midnight sun.
The first round of gunshots whipped in the air not far from her. Snake’s roar filled the air. “Down!”
Ann hunkered down on the small floor as fire opened, focused only on keeping the track going. She shut her eyes as noise filled everything, loud and lethal. It was like being inside a thunder clap. Foreign smells, wild shouts, the rough ride of the track loader, there was no sense, just living chaos.
“Left!” Snake shouted, before firing a round of bullets.
She knew exactly when she hit the garage door. The impact shoved her forward, the dry sound of a broken wall punched her ears.
A shadow yelled. A shot. A moan. Then Falcon’s order, “Out!”
She peeked around, saw a Mustang sleeping through the noise, ignoring the blood staining its shiny blue paint. She ran to it, took shelter behind it.
Gunfire subsided to the point where she heard only occasional thumps.
Silence.
Then his voice. Mad, booming. Alive. “Ann!”
She was on her feet running, flying to that sound past the corpses on the ground, past the blood, past the wreckage.
Dry blood was on Mark’s shirt, and angry purple on his cheekbone. One eye was swollen shut, but he was alive.
What she felt was so thick, so overwhelming, she lived it only through her body – his arms around her, the choking pressure of his embrace, the safety of it.
“Are you all right?” he asked hurriedly, taking her face in his hands, searching, scanning, frowning at her scratches.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go.”
He took her gun, grabbed her by the hand and ran to the torn door. In front of them, Snake helped an older man she thought was the Boss as Falcon covered their escape.
The sky was bright now. In the eastern horizon, the sun was getting ready for another fight, but none of the people running away from Benson’s saw it.
At the construction site, they retreated into an unused container. When Falcon closed the door behind them, the blackness was pure, unscathed as the silence filling the space.
Snake lit a torch, and it hurled them into an orb of yellow light.
As fast as that light, Mark’s body sprung on Falcon and Snake, a burst of muscles and fury. The whole container quivered when the men hit the metallic wall.
“You brought her with you?” he snarled.
Pinned against different kinds of rough steel, h
ands up in surrender, Snake gave white-lying a try. “We didn’t want to.” His finger bent in Ann’s direction. “She insisted.”
It only seemed to anger Mark more; he pushed his weight harder against his men. “You listened to her?”
Mark knew too well how his rescue had played out. He’d been in many missions like this, knew the dry sound of flying bullets, the color of blood and guts, the stench of slaying and weapons. Death staring at you, mocking you as it got closer.
His heart couldn’t take the idea of his angel in the middle of it, just as his pride couldn’t stand the fact that she’d been there because of him. He was the one who would protect, who would rescue, not the other way around.
He heard a sound, but it was too sweet, too soft to cut through the thick fog of his rage. The touch, though, pierced into his red wildness and out of it. Her small hand on his arm – quiet, delicate and cold like a snowflake kiss. It dampened his temper enough for her words to make sense.
“That’s enough,” she repeated. “Mark, look at me.”
It took him a moment to cool the animal down, to focus on her face, to the wet fear glistening in her eyes.
Falcon was set free first when Mark stretched an arm, and his fingers skimmed on her face. Scratches and dirt and tears marred the velvety peach of the skin.
“I’m all right,” she whispered, as the first tear drew a shiny path on her cheek. “But if you stop killing them for a moment, I’m a little freaked out and I could use some reassurance.”
Fury washed down, fear quieted, guilt hushed. He wished he could crawl into her heart and fight off all the darkness she kept banking up. His arms fell, his hands, the same hands that had taken lives no longer than one hour before, rose up to erase that tears. She leaned into his touch and all else dimmed out.
Love crushed on him and he was on his knees, his arms clutching her waist, his soul holding on to her. Her – his biggest weakness and truest strength.
He made his body her refuge when she snuggled in, down with him on a cold, metallic floor, her head in the crook of his neck and her tears soaking his shirt.
“Are you all right?” she asked, edging away to look him in the eyes. She traced a finger to the bruises, to the swelling, to the blood on his lips. “All these…”
“Will go away,” he assured, kissing her fingertips.
His hand trembled as he pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “There are things I have to say.” He swallowed, afraid he would choke. “Things that I feel, that I want, and…”
New tears ran onto her lips but, this time, they kissed the blooming smile. “Why don’t you get it over with and tell me you love me?” she asked.
“I do. God, I do.” He cupped her face with his hard palms. “You won’t have many words of love, but my life, Ann? My soul, if I still have one? You have it in your hands, forever. I will love you forever.”
When she kissed him, he was home.
“I, um, I hate to interrupt,” Snake said tentatively, nearing them with careful steps. “We have a time issue.”
The longing in Mark’s eyes was piercing, but he gave a stern nod. In front of her eyes, he changed. The way he rose, majestic and powerful, the fierce look on his dark face. The warrior was back.
“Round up,” he ordered. “This thing will end today. Boss?”
“I’m okay.”
The older man stood at Ann’s other side, patted her hand. He had thin gray hair, sharp blue eyes and a gentle smile. Muscles from his past had left him with a bulky build. He might be older, but she wouldn’t want to be at the other end of his bad mood. “What do you have in mind?” he asked Mark.
“You’re still in contact with Miami feds?”
“Someone’s still there.”
“Tell them what happened, get Mary’s cell phone.” Mark gave him his ID. “Ann? Box and combination.”
“Box 8; 572 is the combination,” she answered.
“Get the FBI at the port, and make it quick.”
When he turned his attention to her, she braced against what he would say next: stay with the Boss. Or wait in this container until I come to get you. She was tired, emotionally unstable, and didn’t want to waste time fighting with him, so she charged first. “I’m coming with you. Spare me your jackass moment and tell me what to do.”
A frown covered the flicker of something that looked like amusement. “I can tie you up.”
“And I’ll find a way to get free. I think we’ve established I’m good at it.”
He was so going to tie her up. Ann was sure of it when his palm cupped her chin. He pulled her close, leaned down until they were eye to eye. “What did you tell me at the hotel the other night?”
“Lots of things.”
“You told me we had to be one. We will be, every day up to the end. So stop glaring at me, angel, and rest. I’ll call you when we’re ready to go.”
She brushed her lips with his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
When she sat on the sleeping bag, Snake inched close to Mark. “What just happened?”
“It’s three of us. She’ll be safer.”
“I got that. Bear, she called you a jackass.”
Mark’s eyes went slowly on Snake’s. “I wouldn’t do the same, if I were you.”
“Never thought of it,” he replied.
“Good. Falcon,” he called out loud. “We need two cars, you boys go see to it. I’ll pack us some toys. You have thirty minutes. Move.”
Exactly half an hour later, two cars halted near the container.
Without a word, the Boss took a cell from Falcon, got into a dark sports car and drove away. The trunk of a bigger sedan was filled with bags Ann had seen at the camp.
“Good to go,” Mark said, marching to the driver’s side. He was nearly at the door when he changed his mind, threw the key to Snake. “You drive. I need to sleep. You too,” he said to Ann.
“I’ll try, not sure I’ll be able to, though. Too much adrenaline.”
“Can you do that thing you did in the tent?” Snake asked. “You know? The relaxing stuff.”
“A car’s not the best–” she started, but she was cut short.
“You did yoga?” Mark hissed to her.
“A little. I was stressed out, I needed to calm down. But I only–”
“Did you watch?” Mark hissed to Snake.
Snake’s answer was fast and confident. “Nope. Zero.” Even if he didn’t know the reasons for Mark’s snarl, he knew when to be wise.
“I catch any of you looking at her with a face I don’t like, you’ll be sorry.”
“Gotcha.”
For a long moment, Mark’s dark gaze bore from Snake to Falcon and back. Then he stepped forward, crushed both men into a rough, tight hug. “I’m sorry I doubted,” he said, serious. “I shouldn’t have.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Falcon’s stern mouth quirked for a quick, small smile. “But it’s good to have you back, anyway.”
Snake pushed away. “Lets’ go before we cry. Where are we going, anyway? Chick-hunt?”
Mark nodded. “She’ll know we’re coming but she can’t leave, not with the boat due in few hours.”
Snake revived the engine as the sky turned topaz. “Port of Miami?”
“Port of Miami.”
Chapter 27
Ann nearly said the word out loud to make it more real: the end.
The concept would fit well into an autumn day, when red and yellow leaves swirled on the ground for the last dance to a nostalgic song. But crossing the final point–of their nightmare? Of their lives?–sounded wrong when the sun was up, shiny, ready to pound from the get go.
Mark’s words echoed in her heart and filled her with bittersweet anticipation. Soon, they would live their love, or they would be dead.
Locked in the car, Ann watched people migrating to the beach: men in floral shirts and weird hairdos, girls in stamp-sized bikinis with huge straw bags in the crook of their arms. From the bars spread over along th
e sidewalks, Hispanic music crept into the car in muffled thumps.
Mary’s voice, the frantic run in a deserted New York, the first meeting with Mark seemed so far away. So closed in time.
She had all the answers now; Mark had them too, and yet they were driving into the lion’s den. “Why are we here?” she murmured. “I mean, I know why my sister died, you know the Team’s clean, the Boss is calling for help. Why don’t we just stay put, wait for them to do their job?”
Mark’s hand lay on hers as his gaze flew beyond the window, to the glass towers of Downtown, to bikers rushing to the beach and students rushing around the Freedom Tower. “I have to make sure they’re locked up for good. This city, this Country, doesn’t deserve what’s coming with that boat.”
“Do we deserve it?”
“We have no idea what’s there. It might be that the Boss dragged the whole FBI there, and all that’s left for us to do is watch the show.”
“Maybe.”
His hold on her hand tightened. “Tell me you want out,” he pleaded. “There’s still time to take you somewhere safe.”
“I do want out, but I won’t leave. I guess I need closure. Seeing the people responsible for Mary’s death handed over to the police might do it. Sounds lame, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t answer, but his lips shaped in one of those sweet smiles she loved so much.
“Here we are,” Snake said turning into Port Boulevard, the only link between the land and the port.
The bridge stretched like a long concrete ribbon into a cloudless sky. Few cars around. A rainbow of containers, the black and white tower cranes, the smell of salt and gasoline, emerged in front of them. So did the roadblock: four police cars, two for each lane, stopped the traffic in both directions.
Snake slowed down. “Looks like the Boss made it. I say we go and take a look. I mean, we have a right to– What the fuck is that?”
The silver Mercedes was a bullet shooting from the port to the city; it didn’t slow down when it crushed and cut through two police cars.
The Team didn’t move. When Snake’s phone rang, he simply threw it back on Mark’s lap.
“Bear,” he answered. The frown deepened, his jaw twitched. “Got it.”
He ended the call, tucked the phone into his pocket, took the gun and checked the ammo. “They ran. Let’s get ’em.”
Guns For Angels Page 18
