He had no idea what her name was. It wasn't necessary for the mission. His team was, of course, aware. They'd scouted every possible player, and she'd been near the top of the list. But all he knew was that she was the right girl at the wrong time in the wrong place. And she was now in deeper muck than she could ever hope to dig herself out of.
They were on the verge of falling through an unlocked door leading to the roof, which was common in such structures. There was no fire escape that high up, but one started a few stories down. Ropes and harnesses were piled in a secluded corner, ready for Jerome and his package.
"Get on board with that, honey. Reduce your height. Don't bother taking a look up. Don't bother showing up. If they get past me, jump off the ledge on the roof's left side. There must be a fire exit somewhere down there. "My team will get you on the ground as soon as possible." "Don't look back," he yelled, his light brown eyes boring into hers as he pointed to the large air ducts in the middle of the roof.
Several pairs of combat boots could be heard pounding up the steps, so close he could almost taste them. And there she was, staring at him like an angel thrown into a situation she wasn't supposed to be in. Hesitant. Afraid. But there was a fire in her eyes that made him lick his lips.
Not right now, fucking now. Focus.
"GO!" he yelled as he dashed to the other side to hide behind the stairwell's outcrop's corner.
"Are you ready, Dan?" With one hand on his ear, he reloaded a new clip into his gun.
"Seal and load," they say.
The party was about to get started.
Her breath was stuck in her throat, just like it had been when she was running toward her house-the one place she was supposed to be safe. Adrenaline and heat were coursing through her veins, blinding and deafening her while also alerting her to her surroundings.
Olivia's legs ached. Her hands trembled like those of a drug addict who had gone too long without a dose. Her throat was parched, and her lungs were cursing her for flying up the stairs. She was now huddled behind an air vent, the constant, loud hum of air rushing through it drowning out everything else.
What's the point of doing whatever he tells you to do? Maybe he's the fucking psycho who killed Jimmy. Perhaps those other guys are here to help...
A hail of gunfire blew open the door at that precise moment. She yelped and ducked lower, clutching her head with both hands. Her fingers dug into her loose curls, and she tasted the bitter taste of dread that she'd felt when that big guy grabbed her. He dragged her right off her doorstep, but she'd noticed guys starting to pile out of there from the corner of her eye, and none of them seemed too happy to see her go.
She was perplexed as hell, but her primal desire to live came roaring back with a vengeance. Because the gunfire was so loud, she imagined that every cop car in the city would be heading there. They wouldn't, wouldn't they? Shots were heard late at night on the South Side... she'd be lucky if a patrol car came to inspect the apartment. Even so, what could they possibly do against the obvious arsenal that these guys were carrying?
Olivia bit her lower lip to prevent herself from crying. It was all a little too much. Finding Jimmy dying and hearing him tell her she needed to flee because someone was after her. He drew her face closer to his, pressing down so hard on the back of her neck that it hurt. He refused to tell her why she had to flee, choking on his own blood from the deep puncture wound to his chest. The only thing that mattered was that she did. He wouldn't let go of her until he breathed his last and died.
Then she returned home to find a veritable army prepared to do to her what she assumed they'd done to Jimmy. Above her head, there was now a firefight.
There were far too many unanswered questions for her to attempt to make any sense of anything, and her mind raced to keep up. Her cream coat was splattered with blood, and she'd crouched into a small ball to peer out the side of the air vent. Her feet were mostly darting to the sides, looking for a better vantage point to shoot at her nameless savior. They were all dressed in black, with harsh expressions and angular lines on their faces, as they backed up a little further to get out of the direct line of fire.
Such as the type of men you could hire in a group to do your bidding. All of them are nearly interchangeable. The big guy, as she referred to him in her head, wasn't going to stand a chance. One of the guys was carrying an assault rifle, for God's sake.
I'm a terrible assistant! How did I end up being a part of this?!
Panic roiled around the edges of her mind, but she kept it at bay. She'd have plenty of time to go insane later.
As she peered out a little further, she could see the occasional shot fired from the other side of the little outcrop, muzzle flashes blinding her in the otherwise solid darkness of the night. The shots echoed through her body, choking her with numb fear.
I hope he kills every single one of them.