Thorn knew the moment the sound found his ears what had happened. Untrained to such situations Nio pulled to a stop beside him, the slap of his shoes fading away as Thorn sprinted onward. Just as it had a few nights before, muscle memory took over, carrying him forward, his weapon poised in front of him.
Rising onto the balls of his feet, Thorn made his steps as light as possible as he ran forward, closing the gap between himself and Schiff’s body before pulling to a stop and ducking behind a tie-down pole.
Fifteen feet away, he could Schiff lying in a twisted mass, blood spatter extended from his body in a misshapen pattern. A pool of blood leaked from the open wound on his head, the overhead light shining off the surface of it.
“Dammit,” Thorn muttered, dropping flat to his stomach and inching forward, peering down the length of the pier.
Approaching through the darkness were two men in dark suits, their appearance showing a striking resemblance to the men at Gold’s the night before. Both carried handguns as they approached, their hands lowered to their sides, swinging freely.
Raising himself to his knees, Thorn looked back at Nio and motioned for him to stop, waving him off to the side for cover. He paused a moment until his directive was followed before crawling forward, finding a thin gap between two containers. Once there, he rose to a standing position, his body pressed against the cool metal.
The Magnum in his hand still held a full clip, more than enough to cut down the two men. His only hope was there weren’t more nearby, his weapon made more for stopping power than precision.
With a clear view of Schiff’s body, Thorn lowered himself to a knee and extended the gun, cupping his left hand beneath it for support. Drawing in slow, even breaths, he remained motionless, his entire focus on waiting for the two intruders to come into view.
To his surprise, it wasn’t the sight of them that first assaulted his senses, but rather a volley of shots, all loud and heavy, almost a dozen in total.
A moment later the sound of boots hitting concrete could be heard, a pair of men far different from the ones he was expecting appearing from the opposite direction.
One of them Thorn recognized on sight, rising to full height.
“Kelley!” Thorn called, stepping away from the container. In front of him both men turned, raising their weapons, their bodies dropped into defensive postures.
“Robert Myers!” Thorn said, extending the barrel of his weapon toward the sky and taking another step forward.
Framed in the overhead light, Thorn watched as Kelley’s stance relaxed, the tension passing from his body as he lowered his weapon. “Jesus, man, I almost took your head off.”
He said something indecipherable to his new partner before turning back to Thorn. “How many more are there?”
“I don’t know. I was down the dock checking a container when it happened.”
Thorn walked forward and joined the men, both stopping a few feet from Schiff’s body. The new partner was big and rugged with red hair, wearing a flannel shirt and carrying a matching .44.
Thorn nodded to him as he approached, turning over his shoulder and calling, “Nio!”
A moment later Nio appeared, the Glock swinging by his side.
As a group, the men waited for him to reach them before turning their collective attention down to Schiff.
“What the hell happened?” Kelley asked, his voice low.
“We were checking one of the containers when he came out to flag us down,” Thorn said, noticing a piece of paper still clutched in the old man’s hand, large splotches of blood staining it. ”He didn’t even see it coming.”
“Aw hell,” the other man muttered, shaking his head. “If I’d known they killed Kenny, I would have done a lot worse than shoot them.”
“Yeah,” Thorn agreed. For a moment his mind went back to the scene at Turner’s the day before, imagining the large man with the blowtorch having his way with these two hired thugs.
If not for the enormity of the moment, the thought may have evoked a smile.
Stepping forward, Thorn slid the piece of paper away from Schiff’s clutches, smoothing out the wrinkled page. Crimson streaks stained the bottom half of it, the top just clear enough to make out the reason for Schiff’s coming to find them.
“Listen, I don’t mean to sound like a prick-“
“Go,” Kelley said, his gaze never lifting from Schiff. “We know why you’re here and what’s going on.”
“Thank you,” Thorn said, nodding. “You’ve got Kenny?”
“We do,” Kelley said.
“And those two?”
“Oh yeah,” his partner said.
Chapter Sixty-One