And then they were ready.
Marz gave some last-minute advice to Jeremy, who sat sheet white at the computers but was nodding and nailing the answer to every question Marz asked.
Nick came right up into Becca’s space and, without a word, buried his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth. It was the kind of kiss that could change a woman’s life. She just prayed it wasn’t the last one he ever gave her. He pulled back, met her gaze, and said, “See you in a few.”
As the six men crossed the room and threaded their way through the gym equipment, Becca called out, “Be careful, you guys. And good luck.”
Without looking back, Shane raised a hand and waved. “Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing.”
One by one, they all disappeared through the door. And her heart dropped all the way to the floor.
Chapter 22
Becca’s nerves had her tapping a tuneless song out on the desk, and Jeremy’s skin still hadn’t regained its color, but at least his voice was calm as he responded to the guys’ radio transmissions. It was quite possible that they were the two most stressed-out and scared people on the face of the planet.
There were two teams. A-Team consisted of Nick, Shane, and Easy going to the strip club. B-Team consisted of Beckett, Marz, and Miguel going to the storage center. In place of real names, they all had call signs. Nick was A1, Shane A2, and so on. Jeremy’s sign was Eileen. Marz’s brilliant idea.
“B1, there are two cars in your target’s parking lot,” Jeremy said into his headset as he glanced between the traffic camera images on side-by-side computers. Otherwise, the U-Ship-n-Store appeared empty. But they weren’t using their location names over the radios, either.
“Roger that,” came Beckett’s voice. Marz had routed incoming audio through the computer speakers so she could hear it, too. Sitting on Becca’s lap, the puppy tilted her head back and forth with each new transmission, like she followed along.
“A1, you’ve got a packed house already.” Jeremy wasn’t exaggerating. Confessions was located in a long brick building that had probably once housed a store or business. The large lot at the side was crammed with cars, and the valets were hopping.
Nick’s voice crackled through. “Roger.”
“Eileen, this is B1. We have an ETA of three minutes. Any status change?”
“No. Two cars. No obvious interior lights.”
“Roger.”
“A1 to Eileen, ETA is two minutes to our target.”
Becca’s stomach did a nauseating loop-the-loop. The guys had decided a coordinated dual assault was necessary to have the best chance at rescuing Charlie. Because if they did them sequentially and the first one failed, that would allow Church time to move Charlie and defend himself. The downside to the coordinated strategy was each team only had three men.
Against however many Church had.
“B-Team is on location.”
“Okay,” Jeremy said. “I mean, roger that.”
Becca rubbed a circle on Jer’s back. “You’re doing great,” she said. “Don’t worry about using the right words. They’ll understand.”
He blew out a breath and nodded just as another transmission came in.
“A-Team is on location.”
“A1, B1. Be advised, both teams are on location.” Nick and Beckett both acknowledged the information.
On one monitor, B-Team ran across the darkness of the storage center parking lot and flattened themselves against the side of the building. On the second monitor, Nick, Shane, and Beckett approached the strip club’s front door just like any other guys heading out for the night. Becca covered her mouth with her hand, her gaze hanging on every detail of Nick’s body. And then they disappeared inside.
On the side of the storage center, two men huddled at a side door while the third—Miguel—kept a lookout. Then the door was open and they disappeared from the screen, too.
Jeremy heaved a breath. “There go our eyes. Damnit.”
For long minutes, nothing. Eternity came and went as they stared at the motionless buildings. Not even the bugs the guys had planted helped them because the blaring music inside the club drowned out everything else. So there was nothing for Becca to do but wait.
Then a line of cars crossed in front of the strip club, eased through the narrow aisles of cars in the lot, and went around to the back. Becca’s heart tripped into a sprint. Could that be the “company” arriving? Or Charlie? Or, of course, it could be totally unrelated.
Jeremy had seen it, too. “A1, be advised. Three cars just arrived at your target and drove immediately to the back of the building.”
“Any other details?” Nick’s voice was deadly calm, an odd contrast to the base beat pounding in the background.
“No.” Jeremy covered his mouthpiece and glanced at her. “Couldn’t make out any passengers because of the glare off that streetlamp. Could you?”
She shook her head, wishing she could see more than the narrow view these cameras allowed. What was happening?
Suddenly, chaos crackled through the speakers. “Eileen, we are taking fire. Repeat, B-Team is taking fire.” Loud pops and cracks pierced the background. “Tell A-Team to move their asses.”
“Oh, my God,” Becca said, her hand trembling against her mouth. The puppy whined and sniffed at her face.
Jeremy’s voice was tight as a whip. “A1, this is Eileen. B-Team is taking fire. Repeat, B-Team is taking fire. B1 says to move your ass now.”
RIXEY PRETENDED TO sip his beer and watch the G-stringed dancer grind against a pole. “We have two situations,” he said as casually as he could to project over the ear-shattering music. “B-Team is under fire.”
“Shiiit,” Shane bit out.
“And?” Easy asked, muscles so tense his grip was likely to break the bottle in his hand.
“Three cars just arrived out back,” Nick said, throwing the dancer a smile like he was paying attention. She slithered toward him on hands and knees, her bare and very fake breasts swaying as she moved. Hoping to send her on her way, he tugged a dollar from his wallet.
Whipping her long black hair over her shoulder, she pushed up onto her knees and gestured for him to slide it under the side strap of her thong. Fighting back aggravation, he did it, hating the thought that any other woman would be on his skin when all he wanted to feel, smell, and touch was Becca. Especially after she said she loved him.
The dancer crawled away toward the next dollar donor.
“We should check out those cars, now. Too coincidental given today’s intel,” Shane said.
“Slow and steady, gentlemen,” Easy said, voice an even keel. They all got up. “Half the guys in this place are carrying. Let’s not give them a reason to draw. This way toward the back.”
Nick had noticed it, too. Flashes of weapons under people’s jackets. Printing through clothing. A few unconcealed carries, too. It was an OK Corral gunfight waiting to happen.
Easy led the way toward a back hallway. Unsurprisingly, a real meathead of a guy in a Confessions T-shirt blocked the way.
“This area’s private,” he said in a deep voice.
“Well, that’s a good thing,” Easy said, a scowl on his face. “Because we’re company, and we don’t want our business all out in the open.”
Nick held his breath and kept his face a blank mask. Fucking Easy and his titanium balls. Precisely what had kept them alive on that dusty road that day.
The guy frowned and looked around like he hoped no one had noticed his faux pas. “Of course. Sorry, sir. Uh, welcome.” With his tree trunk of an arm, he held open the fabric-and-beads curtain.
They stepped through and the curtains closed behind them, leaving them in a dim hall that ran the length of the club.