Russian? He was using a Russian weapon though it was a common enough one. Was he one of Andrey’s men? Andrey and Rurik had definitely been at odds about this activity, and either one of them might have decided to send a little added insurance, but I didn’t quite buy it. If either of them had another sniper, they would have had a lot more fuel against me when we first sat down to make a deal.
It wasn’t right, and all my instincts told me to get the fuck out.
I couldn’t do that though. I had to make sure this went down the way it was supposed to so I could get Lia out of Chicago. Instead of listening to my gut, I scanned the rest of the area with the night scope and found a few other figures who were not with Greco’s organization and definitely not part of a SWAT team—six of them altogether and four of them positioned in places that didn’t make sense. They couldn’t have known enough about what was going to happen, or they would have been in better positions.
Not feds, not with either Gavino’s org or the Russians, so who?
It was the seventh that eventually made me realize what was going on, but I didn’t see him until a half-dozen SUVs were pulling up. By the time I had focused the scope on his position, one of the vehicles parked in my line of sight. If I had managed a good look at him earlier, maybe things would have gone differently.
“Fucker,” I muttered. “Couldn’t you move over three feet?”
I tried to get a glimpse through the windows of the SUV, but it wasn’t working out very well. I could see a human shape, but that was it. The tint on the windows wasn’t dark enough to block my vision entirely, but it interfered enough to make it impossible to get any detail.
Gavino, Craig, Andrey, and a half-dozen others exited the vehicles and walked toward Jenna. The drivers stayed in the cars in case a quick getaway was needed. Words were exchanged, but I couldn’t hear any of it from where I was. I could see the demeanor of my faux coworkers though. Andrey danced back and forth between his feet, showing how nervous he was about this, even from my view. Jenna was incensed because she didn’t want them evaluating her work in the first place, and Gavino just looked as cocky as ever.
I wasn’t going to miss him.
With a rumble and screech of airbrakes, a semi with a long trailer pulled into the area. Jenna and her crew moved to the driver’s side door as a guy with a long ponytail exited the cab of the truck and handed Jenna a clipboard. Gavino and Andrey joined them, looked over the paperwork, and then Gavino motioned to the back of the truck.
They all followed the driver as he opened up the back and grabbed a girl out of it. He shut the door again before yanking her over to Gavino and Andrey. She was quite obviously terrified as she was questioned by Gavino and fondled by Andrey.
Jenna had her hands on her hips and was obviously not happy with whatever was being said. She tossed her hands up in the air as Andrey led the girl over to the SUV he arrived in and pulled her into the backseat. I moved the scope away from the scene when I realized what he was planning.
I didn’t need to watch that shit.
Jenna was pointing a finger and speaking quickly to Gavino, but it obviously didn’t matter what she said. He turned away from her and talked to the truck driver for a minute before motioning to Craig, who was still by the vehicles.
As I moved my scope to Craig’s area, I saw the person I hadn’t gotten a good view of before as he moved a little closer to the building to get out of Craig’s line of sight. He was a big guy, dressed all in black and had a dark cap on his head. The clothing didn’t matter, though, because I got a clear view of his face.
Mario Leone.
Mario was Rinaldo’s bodyguard and was never far away from his boss without a damn good reason. There was absolutely no reason for him to be here at a cargo drop-off for Gavino’s organization—none whatsoever. He certainly wouldn’t be here without his boss knowing about it.
As my muscles tightened, I checked out the whole area again. Back behind the main building was another smaller structure right next to the substation. There was a familiar car beside it—one that had not been there before.
If I had been on top of the main building where I had told Trent I would be, I probably would have seen it pull up. From where I was, the scope’s vision was narrow enough that I missed it. Beside the car were three more people. Two I didn’t recognize, but one I knew very well.
Rinaldo.
“Oh fuck, no.”
I immediately reached into my jeans and yanked out my phone. I hit his number and watched him through the scope as he glanced down, pulled his own phone out of his pocket, and glared down at the display. His eyes looked up to the closest building—right where the other sniper was located—and then started scanning the other tall buildings within view.
Through the vision in the scope, it looked like his eyes found me, but I was too far away for him to see. I watched him turn away slightly and touch his hand to his ear. Then he pressed a button on the side of his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.
“Answer the fucking phone,” I growled as I called again.
He didn’t. Instead, he touched his hand to his ear again and looked up toward the other sniper.
“Fuck.”
I dropped down flat against the concrete roof as a bolt whizzed right past my ear. Who was paying the sniper was now completely clear, at least. I grabbed the Barrett and quickly focused on the sniper across the way as another shot rushed past me.
He was reloading—not even looking down the scope as I pulled back on the trigger and watched his body slump. Grabbing my phone back off the ground, I typed out a quick text message, hoping Rinaldo would at least read the first bit before deciding to ignore me again.
GET OUT NOW FEDS ON THE WAY
He didn’t even glance at the phone.
“Motherfucker!”
Thinking about the consequences of what I was going to do didn’t even really enter my mind—I just knew I had to get to him and make him listen to me. If he wasn’t going to look at the phone, I had only one other choice.
Though I couldn’t hear them, I could see the increase in activity across the river. The shots from the other sniper had been heard, and people were starting to duck into and behind their vehicles as they tried to determine who was the shooter and who was the target.
I grabbed the Barrett by the carrying handle without even bothering to disassemble it first and tossed my duffel bag over my shoulder. I pulled the bipod assembly up against the bottom of the barrel and held the gun against my side as I raced to the stairwell. There were only twelve stories, so it didn’t take long for me to get down the stairs and out into the parking lot.
Now I had a problem. I didn’t have a vehicle with me. The quickest way to get to Rinaldo was likely by boat—there were several right there at the dock next to the condos. However, it made me about as easy a target as I could be. There was no way I could wait for a bus at this point, so my options became limited.
I looked around until I saw an older model pickup truck and ran over to it just as I heard another shot from across the river. Less than a moment later, I felt a hot, searing streak across the back of my shoulder.
I dove down behind the truck on the side away from the river and tried to ignore the pain in my back. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t think it had done much more than graze my skin. Reaching up, I grasped the door handle, but the truck was locked.
The butt end of the Barrett made quick work of the truck’s window, and I reached in to unlock it. Once inside, I huddled underneath the steering wheel and yanked open the panel. Three pairs of wires dangled below me, and I hoped the older truck had wires with conventional coloring. I started with a pair of brown wires, using my fingernails to strip the plastic off the ends and was rewarded with dash lights. The red pair of wires was next, and I knew I had the right ones when a little jolt of electricity ran up my arm as I tried to strip them manually.