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Finally, after what feels like an hour, we pull up the dirt road leading to our compound. The trees thin around us, leading to a large clearing. The giant warehouse stands before us, completely secured by a tall metal fence.
Opening an app on her phone, Jerry plugs in the key code, scans her finger and her eye, and presses the button to open the gate. It groans for a minute before letting us through.
Sydney looks around, her mouth open slightly as she gapes at what’s before us.
Pressing another button, the large garage door to the compound opens, and Jerry pulls inside, parking beside her usual 1970 red Challenger.
Sydney stiffens, looking ahead, eyes wide.
Jerry turns the car off and opens her door, catching my eyes as she nods. I climb out as she opens Sydney’s door, leaning against it with her hand on her hip.
And she runs.
It doesn’t take long, and if I’m honest, we were both probably expecting it to happen. Only a moment after that door was opened, Sydney is out and halfway through the compound door.
Jerry rolls her eyes as she sighs. “Go get her.”
“Why don’t you? You caused this,” I say, spreading my arms out wide.
Her eyes turn hard. “Do it.”
There’s no use arguing with her.
Instead, I roll up the sleeves of my white shirt and run after Sydney, who hasn’t gotten super far. About halfway from the compound to the gate.
It doesn’t take long to catch up to her. Hooking my arm around her waist, I pull her into me, trying hard to keep her thrashing to a minimum. Mostly to make sure I don’t get kicked in the balls.
“Please make this easy,” I tell her. “I don’t want to do this. We just need some information, and you’ll be home.”
“I trusted you,” she spits. “Who thefuckis that in there?”
“I know. I know. She’ll tell you, please.”
She thrashes more, her elbow meeting my gut as I double over. Losing my balance, I fall, bringing her with me.
Pinning her down, Sydney scowls at me, hurt and pain clear in her eyes as dirt and gravel tangle her hair.
“Fuck you,” she says, and before I know what’s happening, she spits in my face.
Spits. In. My. Face.
My mind blacks out as I set my feet under me, standing up. Wiping the spit from my face, I crack my neck before leaning down, grabbing Sydney by the arm and waist, and hoisting her over my shoulder.
Turning around, I head back into the compound as she continues to scream profanities at me, her legs pushing against my arm as I keep them still.
By the time we’re there, she’s calmed, giving up. The moment we cross the threshold, the door closes.
I don’t put her down until I reach the couch, dropping her on the plush material with a thump as she gets the wind knocked out of her.
Stepping back, I stand beside Jerry, who sits in the chair opposite the couch, staring at her.
Sydney’s hair is a mess, sticking out from every direction. Her bare face is red and puffy, her eyes glistening with tears.
A little tinge of regret pings inside me, but I push it down as far as I can.
I’ve killed men and felt less.
This is necessary.
