Contract to Kill

  The noise continued to increase until it sounded life threatening. She leaned over the rail and looked toward the source. When the man came into view, he doubled over and clutched his chest. He managed to stagger forward another twenty feet before falling to his hands and knees.

  “Skinner, we’ve got trouble out here. Some guy just collapsed on the sidewalk. If anyone sees him, they’ll call 911 for sure.”

  “What’s the story; is he drunk?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s in a bad way. He’s coughing loudly. Should I head down there?”

  “Ignore him. We’re finished in here.”

  Nathan’s ear speaker came to life with Holly’s voice. “Nathan, I’m between a light-colored pickup and a dark SUV. I can’t tell what color they are. These streetlights are washing out all the color.”

  He scanned the line of parked cars. “Are you in front of the house with the two cypress trees?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’ve got you.” Equidistant between two streetlights, Holly had picked a good spot. Without knowing exactly where she was, Nathan wouldn’t have seen her.

  “Harv?”

  “Ten seconds.”

  “Holly’s in place.”

  Harv gave him an acknowledgment click. Nathan worked his way along the face of the building, staying in the shadow created by the second-floor walkway. He had to duck below a few glowing windows to avoid creating a silhouette.

  Harv checked in from the south end of the building as planned, then began his fake-coughing-spasm diversion when he was halfway down the block.

  From Nathan’s current location, he couldn’t see Lyons, which also meant she couldn’t see him. He needed to go another half block before reaching the base of the stairwell, where she’d hidden herself at the top.

  Keeping his eyes on the second-floor walkway, he crept forward.

  He was about to make his final sprint to the base of the stairwell when Holly’s voice came through his ear speaker.

  “Mason and Hahn just came out of Toby’s apartment.”

  Nathan heard it then, multiple footsteps coming from above.

  Nathan had a big problem. He was out in the open.

  The walkway serving the second-floor apartments shielded him from view, but as soon as they started down the stairs, he’d be visible. The low bushes along the building didn’t offer enough cover, and there was no way he could move laterally out to the parked cars without being spotted.

  He needed to make a split-second decision. He could sprint back to the north corner of the building and hope he wasn’t seen, or be aggressive and advance south to the stairwell and hide under the stair treads.

  He chose the latter option, believing it gave him the best chance.

  With Harv too far away to help, Nathan didn’t want to engage three hardened mercenaries in a firefight. In his mind, the mission hadn’t changed, only its variables. If he could get through the next thirty seconds without discharging his weapon, he’d consider it a victory.

  He stayed on the grass to keep his footfalls silent and reached the stairwell with seconds to spare. Thankfully, the wet concrete masked his footprints as he stuffed himself into the hollow under the stairs.

  Metallic clanks sounded above his head as Mason, Hahn, and Lyons descended.

  Nathan remained motionless as the team of killers made it to the halfway landing. They were now three feet away, directly above his head. He bent lower and felt a spiderweb press into his face.

  Shit!

  His interrogator in Nicaragua had used spider venom to inflict pain. Clenching his teeth at the image of eight legs crawling down his collar, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to breathe.

  The clanking above his head ended. They were down.

  I’m not here . . . this is an empty space. I’m just a slab of cracked concrete under here. Cracked concrete . . . cracked concrete. He used the words as a mantra, repeating them silently, over and over.

  With his Sig Sauer held tightly against his chest, Nathan froze as three dark figures appeared. In the bleed light coming from the streetlamps, he saw the bulges of weapons under their coats. If they looked in his direction, he’d likely be blown. It was dark under here, but not pitch black. He might or might not be able to nail all of them before they shot back. To make matters worse, he’d need to score head shots. Their torsos looked bulked up by body armor.

  They walked a few steps in Holly’s direction and stopped.

  What the hell are you doing? Nathan thought. Get your asses moving!

  “Harv, start coughing again,” Holly said. “Now!”

  Harv complied.

  Nathan couldn’t see his friend, but he heard the fake coughing spasms. It was difficult to gauge how far away Harv was, but it sounded like a good thirty yards or more.

  Harv’s coughing did the trick. Way to go, Holly.

  He watched them turn and focus in that direction. Then, without a word, they angled across the grass and stepped into the street. One thing was instantly clear: Mason, with his blond ponytail dangling, was a big man. Not as big as Nathan, but at least an inch taller than Harv. Hahn and the woman were roughly the same height and build. If she had long hair, it was tucked under her cap. In the low light it was difficult to see much detail, but they were definitely wearing dark tactical clothing.

  “Holly, do you have eyes on them?” Nathan whispered.

  “They’re walking straight toward me.”

  “Are you secure?”

  “Affirm. They’ll never see me. I’m using the truck to stay out of sight.”

  “Harv. Double-time around the rear of the building and form up with Holly.”

  “Copy.”

  Down the sidewalk, Harv’s coughing went silent.

  Nathan quickly wiped his face and neck, dislodging the sticky web. He smashed his clothing at the collar just in case a spider had dropped in there. He suddenly felt itchy, like miniature clawed feet were scrambling across his skin. There’s no spider; it was just an old cobweb.

  He edged out from the cramped space and watched Mason, Hahn, and Lyons cross the street. They moved in a confident, cohesive manner.

  Tight, like a military unit.

  As soon as they reached the opposite side of the street, all hell broke loose.

  CHAPTER 13

  Holly moved laterally along the length of the truck to keep it between her and Mason. Two more steps and she’d be behind its tailgate.

  Oh no!

  She felt the resistance half a second too late and looked down. She’d kicked a plastic cup over, spilling its contents. Crap, she hadn’t cleared her path, a gross tactical error. The sound was negligible and she doubted Mason had heard it over the rain. She held perfectly still and slowly raised her head to look through the truck’s windows. Mason and his crew hadn’t reacted, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then things changed.

  It started as a low growl, then erupted into an ear-shattering canine tirade. Behind a head-high fence no more than twenty feet away, a large dog barked, snarled, and clawed at the fence. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Mason and his team were only a few yards away.

  Holly pushed her transmit button. “I’m blown!” she whispered.

  “Don’t move,” Nathan answered. “The dog might scare them off. Harv, all-out sprint.”

  She clicked her radio and crouched lower, willing the animal to stop barking.

  It didn’t happen.

  Her situation got worse when the porch spotlight snapped on. Caught in no-man’s land, she was plainly visible from the house. Damning light bleached her like a freeway billboard.

  She focused on the window next to the door and saw the shades move.

  “Holly, Mason’s crew diverted to the middle of the street. They’re leaving in a big hurry.”


  “Someone inside the house just saw me.”

  “Harv?”

  “Twenty seconds.”

  “Someone’s opening the front door!”

  “Holly, get ready to bolt south down the sidewalk. I’ll cover your exit. Don’t pull your piece.”

  Like something out of a bad dream, she watched a heavy-set man with a baseball bat step onto his porch. Wearing boxer shorts and a T-shirt, he yelled, “What’re you doing to my truck?”

  The dog’s barking got louder and more frantic.

  “Five seconds,” Harv said, breathing heavily.

  Holly pointed to the street, then covered her mouth with her index finger. She hoped the guy would understand her meaning.

  He didn’t.

  And she knew why.

  Wafting out the door like fermented fog came the foul stench of alcohol.

  He took a step forward and brought the bat up. “Get away from there! I’m callin’ the cops!”

  Nathan’s voice rang through her ear speaker. “Holly, go!”

  She needed no other prompting. She came out of her crouch and sprinted down the sidewalk.

  The drunk yelled, “Hey!”

  “Harv?” Nathan asked.

  “I have eyes on Mason.”

  Holly glanced to her left, and saw Mason stop walking.

  Then she heard him yell, “Get her!”

  Not in this Marine’s world.

  Nathan flew across the lawn, activating the Sig’s laser. His sudden appearance had the desired effect. Hahn turned his attention away from Holly and squared off against the new threat.

  Nathan slid like a baseball player, took a knee, and leveled his pistol. Hahn reacted quickly and diverted toward the truck where Holly had been. Nathan lost sight of his target.

  Now the tables had turned. Nathan was out in the open. He flattened himself on the lawn and pointed the red dot through the truck’s windows.

  “Harv, two in the air!”

  Concussive booms hammered every hard surface in the area and crackled down the street like thunder.

  The drunk on the porch cursed and ran back inside, tripping over the jamb.

  Nathan saw a black form bolt north from the truck. Hahn was using the line of the parked cars along the curb to retreat. Nathan did his best to keep his laser painted on Hahn as he raced away. He knew Hahn would see the red dot and be strongly motivated to keep going. Mason and Lyons dashed for the line of vehicles as well. Clearly they had no idea where Harv’s shots originated, so they did the only logical thing. Retreat or be shot.

  Nathan removed his finger from the trigger and looked in Holly’s direction. He saw her near the end of the block.

  Lights were coming on. Lots of them. The entire neighborhood was alerted.

  “Harv, maintain position and make sure our guests leave the area.”

  “Copy.”

  Nathan retreated back to the stairwell for cover. “Holly, retrace Harv’s route back to the sedan and fire it up. Hold position and be ready to go when we get there.”

  “On my way.”

  Nathan heard an engine start in the distance, then another. Headlight intrusion stretched down the street and swept from left to right. Mason and Hahn were turning their vehicles around in a big hurry. There was no way to chase them. They’d be long gone by the time he reached Harv’s sedan.

  Nathan had more pressing concerns. Every cop within a ten-mile radius would now be speeding to this location.

  “How long do you think we have?” Nathan asked.

  “Two or three minutes,” Harv answered.

  “Leave your spent brass. We’re going up. Holly, change in plans. Don’t start the engine. Put the keys in the ignition, and leave the car unlocked. We need eyes on the street while we check out Toby’s apartment. Position yourself where you can see anyone who approaches.”

  “Copy.”

  “I’m not worried about people looking out their windows, but let us know if anyone comes outside. There might be a retired or off-duty cop living around here.”

  “It’s my fault the dog barked; I knocked over a plastic cup.”

  “Put it behind you. Check in when you’re in position.”

  “Copy.”

  Nathan took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and offer a silent thank-you. Things could’ve turned out much worse. He or Holly could’ve been shot.

  With Harv on his way, Nathan held his position. He was tempted to ascend the stairs and check on Toby, but waiting for Harv was the sensible thing to do.

  Through the rain Harv materialized, jogging down the sidewalk. Not concerned about the metallic clunks, they hustled up the stairs and hurried toward Toby’s door.

  Harv pointed. “The jamb is splintered. Mason kicked it in.”

  Toby’s apartment was totally dark.

  Nathan tightened his gloves before pulling his Sig. “Watch my six, I’m going in.”

  “Maybe we should both go.”

  Nathan reached for the knob. “I want you out here if Mason comes back.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Toby,” he whispered loudly.

  No response.

  He gave the door a firm rap. “Toby, are you in here?”

  Again, nothing.

  “Trip wire or booby trap?” Harv asked.

  “There’d be no reason for it unless Toby gave us up.”

  “I’m in place,” Holly reported. “All quiet.”

  “Copy,” Nathan answered.

  Harv put a hand on his shoulder. “We’d better check, then.”

  “Agreed.” Nathan quickly ran his hands along the length of the door, then checked the bottom of the jamb. “Think we’re good.” He took a step inside, but stopped. “Hang on a sec. I’m doing an NV sweep.”

  “Nate, we’ll need something to prop against the door; it won’t stay closed.”

  “Shit . . . ”

  “What have you got?”

  “Toby’s tied to a chair, and he doesn’t look good. The place has been tossed; it’s completely trashed. We’ll use a sofa cushion on the door.”

  “Kick one over to me.”

  After verifying the curtains were closed, he focused on the wall next to the door and found a dual light switch. He chose the switch with more handprint grime.

  “Harv, eyes.” Nathan turned off his NV before flipping the switch.

  He grimaced at the sight of Toby leaning back in the chair as if merely passed out from drinking. Seeing the scene in shades of green through the NV scope didn’t reflect the true hideousness of the crime. Color added shock value. Especially red.

  Directly below Toby’s battered head, a perfectly round pool of blood saturated the carpet.

  “I don’t see Mara. We need to clear the other rooms down the hall.”

  “Let me do that, Nate.”

  “We’ll both go.”

  “Nate . . . ”

  “Both of us.”

  They found Mara in the first room. Harv turned on the light.

  They were greeted by pink. Lots of pink. Like the living room, the room had been crudely searched. The floor was a mess. A crib sat in the corner with a paper butterfly mobile hanging above.

  Nathan felt his stomach churn.

  Mara’s skin wasn’t flawless anymore. Her face had taken some hard blows.

  She lay on her side, the back of her head caked with fresh blood. Beneath it, a dark pool had soaked into the mattress.

  Nathan checked for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  “Looks like they were expecting a baby girl.”

  “Nate, man, I’m really sorry . . . But we have to keep moving.”

  He took a final look and burned the image into his mind, where it would never be removed. Ever. Stealing Mara’s life was the filthies
t act of theft. It could never be returned to her. He kicked a lamp shade, sending it into the paper mobile.

  “We’ll get him, Nathan. Count on it.”

  Looking for Toby’s cell phone, they quickly checked every drawer, closet, shower stall, and cabinet. Like the living room and the baby’s room, every square inch of the apartment had been tossed, even the bathrooms. The toilet tanks were open, and the lids placed on the countertops. Nothing was broken, just moved aside or on the floor. It was clear Mason and his cohorts didn’t make much noise during their search.

  “They have his phone,” Nathan said.

  Harv didn’t say anything.

  Nathan tried to imagine Toby’s and Mara’s last minutes. They’d probably held out for as long as possible, thinking they’d be saved by two white knights from First Security, but their rescuers didn’t come back. Nathan forced the corrosive thought aside. Now wasn’t the time for useless blame or finger-pointing. Toby and Mara were dead because Mason was a cold-blooded asshole. It wasn’t more complicated than that.

  They returned to the living room, and Nathan put Harv on hold. They held perfectly still, listening for sounds. The muted buzz of a neighbor’s television coming through the wall closely matched the volume of the refrigerator’s compressor hum.

  “Holly, status? Do you hear any sirens?”

  “Not yet.”

  If Toby had a pet, Nathan detected no sign or odor of it. Cats tended to hide, but there definitely wasn’t a dog in here. He stepped over to the window, cracked the curtains, and looked down to the street below.

  Returning his attention to Toby, he saw the man was dressed only in cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Two holes next to a curved scar on Toby’s scalp oozed blood.

  “Harv.” Nathan nodded toward the kitchen. The contents of Toby’s wallet sat on the counter next to his car keys, including eighty dollars in cash. “If he had an electronic access card for work, they took it. At least they don’t have our business card.”

  Harv approached Toby’s body. “Nate, this man isn’t dead. He’s still breathing.”

  “What! How’s that possible?”

  “I don’t know, but he may not have much longer.”