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“I gave you my word not to kill you before I discovered your true purpose. Do what you promised, then run. Because if I see you… if I smell your cheap ass cologne, that will be your last day breathing.”
When he opens his mouth, I cut him off. “No need to speak. Just watch and remember.”
By the time Zakiya completes her task, Mattia has a greenish tinge to his face and my hostage has already started sharing information.
For me, watching one of my closest and best meet his end spears me deep. Why hadn’t I seen his doubts in my word and leadership? I’m certain if I knew his concerns, I would have set them to bed. Although I’m more progressive than many DeLuca’s, one thing we have in common is women do not lead. An outsider could take the position before a woman. Fucking Jamal. Why couldn’t he talk to me? Instead, he’s just another body I need to dispose of, and it’s all thanks to Dusan fucking Gianopulos.
CHAPTER 32
Zakiya
Early evening traffic whooshes past me and Sansone as we study our target. Lights flash against the downtown skyscrapers, creating colorful flashes of blue, red, and white.
The building we stand before isn’t the remote mansion on the outskirts of Douglas, the one with more privacy, and the one we all prefer to hit. From the information we gathered with the help of Sansone’s hostage, Dusan follows a routine during the day. His nights, however, are never the same. On random nights he visits his mistresses, or he drops stacks at various underground casinos, or he’s wining and dining Sansone’s allies and Douglas politicians.
Since Dusan doesn’t keep a digital schedule, Omari hits roadblock after roadblock, coming up with a better option to ambush him. The gold nugget out of the shit pile is this building is Luxe Tower, a fairly new Kent Luxe office high-rise, and the DeLucas have an understanding with the developer.
Dusan is one of a handful of tenants on the top floors, and Omari came up with a genius plan that won’t affect the other occupants. Sansone glances in my direction. “Are you ready?”
I heft my bag of toys over my shoulder. “To be the Bonnie to your Clyde? Always.”
He grimaces. “Let’s aim for a better ending. I’m not striving for a premature end to our union.”
We head toward the service entrance at the back of the building where we meet Mattia. During our planning, we decided Valentino had to sit this out. As much as the people of Douglas accept his shady dealings, the possibility of a mayor in the middle of a downtown shoot-out is a situation he can’t crisis manage himself out of. Although Sloane and Tácito said nothing, their relief was evident.
With only three people on site, we’ll need to rely on Omari’s updates. We enter the building and find empty rooms to dress in our tactical gear. I load up on my usual blades, tear gas, and gas mask; more comfortable with steel than ammo. I join Sansone and Mattia who sport major firepower with DDM4s, MK18s, Berettas, Pythons, and Glocks.
“Take this.” Sansone hands me a TRP and holster.
“I’m a shit shot.”
He takes my hand and forcefully places the gun in my palm. “Shit shot or not, it gives you a better range than your knives.”
“You haven’t seen my range.” I take the gun and holster.
Sansone pinches my chin and raises my head to kiss me on the lips. “I care more about you walking out of here than how fucking far you can throw a knife.”
“If you two are done, put your earpieces in. Omari says it’s time to move.” Mattia shoulders his assault weapon and unholsters his handgun, ready to go.
We make our way to the service elevator, secure in the knowledge Omari has taken control of the surveillance cameras. Mattia and Sansone attach suppressors to their guns.
“Once you leave the elevator, head east. You’ll encounter two guards.” Omari relays the countdown as we near the men.
I reach the first man who has his back facing me. Before Sansone or Mattia act, I stab the guard in the side of his neck and catch him in a controlled fall. While I’m busy, Mattia takes the second guard out.
In the distance, a phone rings. The three of us exchange glances and wait for Omari’s next instructions. We drag the bodies of the two guards into empty offices and close the door, although blood smears on the floor are out of our control.
“Alright, I’ve lured Dusan into his office and shut off the electricity, which triggered the fail-secure lock,” Omari says, his voice strained. “He can’t leave unless you use the key Kent gave you. I’ll lead you as best as I can based on the guards’ last positions, but we’re running blind now. By my count, there are ten men.”
This comes as no surprise. We’ve known this part of the plan bears the most risk. With Omari’s memory of where everyone is, we eliminate each guard one by one until we account for all ten. By the time we make it to Dusan’s office, we breathe a sigh of relief for the last step in the plan. Sansone kneels and extracts the key for the special lock.
A movement from the corner of my eye spurs my protective instincts. I hurl a dagger toward a dark shadow seconds before a bullet lodges in the steel door beside Sansone’s head.
While he and Mattia scatter for cover, I race toward the area where I threw my blade.
“Zakiya,” Sansone hisses at me. “Get your ass back here.”
“Soon,” I promise and continue until I find my discarded knife. A trail of blood spots leads toward?—
