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Silence ensued and I used it as an opportunity to run through the op. I wasn’t used to working with a team. When I breached a location, I did it solo with the intent to take out my target and get out. Do that quickly and quietly and unseen. I’d never been on an op with the intent to capture.
Theo and Easton would breach the front. Smith and Jonas would come in through the conservatory and Lincoln and Zane on the opposite side that had access doors to the basement. They’d come up putting them smack dab in the middle with a full view of the house. I didn’t like their point of entry and made that known. Zane noted my misgivings but didn’t budge. I figured the man knew better than me so I didn’t push.
Cash and I were entering through a side door into what the floorplan called a breakfast room that flowed into the kitchen that opened to a hall with an office, double doors to the dining room, a powder room, and at the end, the door to the basement. That opened to the huge family room to the right, living room to the left, the conservatory off the living room. I went through the floorplan one more time in my head, making sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, when Cash broke the silence.
“Would you take offense if I said you look totally hot all kitted out in Kevlar with a piece strapped to your thigh?”
“She might not but her man would.” Came through my earpiece.
“Right. Yeah. Forget I mentioned it.”
I glanced over to see his shit-eating grin.
“Shit stirrer,” I muttered.
He tossed me another wink and we walked.
Finally the house came into view, as did the Potomac. The home was magnificent, the view better.
“Everyone lied,” Cash mumbled softly. “Crime pays.”
That would seem to be the case. The mansion was worth over eight million and it was one of seven properties Wentworth owned.
I drew my Glock from my holster, or I should say my borrowed Glock. I preferred a Smith & Wesson, but I’d taken what I was given with a smile. A hundred and twenty-four grain Winchester FMJ has the same velocity exiting the barrel of a Glock as it does a Smith & Wesson. Not that I wasn’t hoping I’d have to discharge my weapon, but shit happened.
“There’s movement in the front,” Easton called in. “Sheers are drawn, I have no visual. Two silhouettes.”
Maddon and Wentworth.
The cameras Smith had planted yesterday on the trees facing the entrance to Wentworth’s property had caught the two men—Maddon and Wentworth coming in a few hours before and pulling into the garage. Nothing after that.
“Six, are you in place?”
Again that was Easton, and Six was Cash.
“Negative. Two minutes.”
“Get the lead out.” That was Zane.
I waited for a snappy comeback from Cash. None came. So he could be serious when he needed to be.
“Stay behind me and stick to the shadows.”
“Not my—”
“Do not make a move unless I do,” he cut me off.
“Copy.”
“She can follow directions.”
Because I was me and I couldn’t verbally inform Cash I wasn’t fond of his sarcasm. I pinched his ass. Not a friendly gesture—I pinched and did it hard.
Startled eyes swung my way. Then a ghost of a smile.
“Not the time to get frisky, Dove.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
