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never coming back here.’

King said, ‘No shit.’

He hauled Slater to the closest vehicle, a four-door Mercedes-Benz GLS SUV. It was their daily driver, purchased when they’d returned from Wyoming and found themselves in a brief stretch of normalcy. Now King left Slater in a seated position against the rear wheel so he could shake out his good arm. Slater looked up and saw the veins flaring in King’s forearm, the muscles drenched in lactic acid from dragging a two-hundred pound deadweight across most of the estate’s ground floor.

Violetta said, ‘The command centre.’

King said, ‘What?’

‘Needs to be wiped.’

King knew she was right, but didn’t want to admit it.

Alexis said, ‘I’ll go.’

King said, ‘Do you know how to do it?’

Alexis didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself.

Violetta pointed down at Slater. ‘Get him in the back. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’

King said, ‘No.’

‘Alexis will cover me.’

‘I’ll cover you.’

‘With one arm?’

‘Yeah.’

Violetta made for the side door. ‘Get him in the car.’

King snatched her arm with his good hand.

She spun, eyes aflame. ‘Your grip’s weak. You know I’m right. Get him in the car.’

To seal the arrangement, Alexis reached down and snatched the CQBR rifle out of Slater’s limp hands.

Slater let her do it. There was little alternative.

King breathed out, then ripped the SIG from his waistband and handed it to Violetta.

This was hell.

She took it, gave him a look that said, It’ll be okay, and ran back into the house, Alexis tailing inches from her heels.

Slater’s head was foggy. He couldn’t think. ‘The command centre?’

‘It has everything.’

‘Like what?’

With his left arm trapped to his side, King tugged the rear door of the SUV open and grabbed Slater by the collar. ‘Our account details, for one.’

‘Money’s more important than their lives?’

‘Our records of contacting Alonzo.’

‘Oh.’

‘The location of the safe house.’

Oh.

Slater’s heart thudded in his chest as he clambered shakily to his feet. He couldn’t make it on his own, but King yanking him by the collar gave him the extra momentum to get his legs underneath him. He stumbled into the vehicle, sprawling across the rear seats, then pulled himself up into a seated position.

King went to the wall, snatched up the remote for the garage door, and pressed the button as he back-pedalled to the car. He used the rear door as cover to assess what the situation out front looked like as the garage door inched upward with a mechanical groan. A fresh P226 pistol had materialised in his hand.

Slater mumbled, ‘Where’d you get that?’

‘Beside the remote.’

Slater’s eyes wandered to where the holster was skewered into the concrete beside the garage fob. His brain took a second to catch up to his eyes. Backup gun. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The door rolled up to chest height, revealing two silhouettes squatting in the gap, anticipating them fleeing through the garage.

King fired twice and one man went down. The second got a shot off and King fired back and the final man jerked sideways like a grotesque marionette.

Slater heard the shots, watched the gunfight play out, but it was like watching it on an old-fashioned TV that couldn’t find a signal. He was still skirting on the edges of dreamworld.

King collapsed into the car, his face ghost white.

Slater got frantic. ‘What?! Are you hit?’

‘Right shoulder,’ King gasped between breaths. ‘Quick.’

Slater understood.

Even badly compromised, he understood.

Their combat synergy was something instinctual by now. Even though the haze, he could act. He lurched across the rear seats and fell on top of King in his haste to get pressure on the man’s shoulder.

Sure enough, a bullet had entered the deltoid muscle, and blood poured out. Only now did Slater notice the shattered window in the rear door, the door King had used for cover. Hopefully the glass had deformed the bullet as it passed through, which is typical in soft nose or hollow point rounds, lowering the speed of subsequent impacts.

Still, a small piece of lead had torn through flesh and muscle, so it was a terrible situation regardless.

It was made worse by the fact that King couldn’t use his bad arm to put pressure on the bleeding wound.

Which was why he’d called for help so urgently.

Slater was woozy as he pressed his palm hard over the wound, and King winced under the pale sheet that was his face, but it did the job. They sat there side by side, both of them horribly incapacitated, functionally useless in combat.

King said, ‘Not good, huh?’

Slater couldn’t see straight, but he mustered the wherewithal to respond. ‘We’ve been in worse spots.’

Despite everything, King cracked a delirious smile.

The silhouettes of the dead mercenaries lay sprawled at the lip of the garage, and darkness encompassed everything beyond. They waited for a sniper round to blare out of the abyss, putting an end to all their suffering.

It didn’t come.

King mumbled, ‘The girls better be quick.’

‘Yeah,’ Slater grunted.

But a morsel of cognisance returned. Enough to reach into the footwell and snatch up the P226 King had dropped when he’d been hit.

Slater knew he’d be a terrible shot. Knew he’d be mostly useless to defend them.

But he could at least try.

That, he knew, was the key to survival, and life itself.

To try.

24

Several of the modern rectangular light fixtures suspended from the kitchen ceiling were shattered, plunging the vast space into ethereal shadow.

Violetta moved tensely across the space, checking her peripherals, sweeping King’s SIG across the dark corners. They were empty. At least the assault was stymied. The first wave had failed. Knowing the likely origins of their attackers, there would be more waves to come, but for now there was a lull in the carnage.

Alexis followed close behind her, sweeping opposing sides of the space to Violetta. Violetta hustled across the entranceway and into the corridor leading to the command centre.

Alexis caught something in her peripheral vision, and hung back.

‘Do you need me?’ she said softly.

‘No,’ Violetta said without turning around. ‘Cover me from here.’

Then she vanished into the gloom.

Alexis doubled back to take a second look.

The ugly man who’d almost bested Slater

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