He checked his gun and gestured to the others before making his way to the back of the house, followed by Drake, whose feet made barely any noise. The crooked window left the house even more vulnerable to invasion than it already was, so far from other settlements, and as Tank moved past it, his ears picked up a jazz melody coming from inside.
“Hide around the cars and act, if needed,” Tank whispered, and Boar gave him a nod before Tank and Drake continued to the back door.
After years of companionship and working together, they understood each other without words. A part of Tank was beginning to feel deflated over how easy this job seemed to be. He thrived on tough missions, those jobs few crews would take on, but unless Riggs had a surprise shark tank under a moving floor, this would be over within the span of two minutes. It was always safe to have backup, but Drake could have sneaked up and gotten the job done himself. Unless there was some more fuckery they’d need to deal with.
Just as he thought that, while approaching the back door, a loud barking cut through the jazz music.
Great. This, they hadn’t expected,
“What was that?” a masculine voice—Riggs—asked, but his female companion didn’t sound at all bothered.
“Probably an animal. Mylo? What are you sensing, honey?”
But the dog wouldn’t give it a rest, and its growls were starting to raise Tank’s adrenaline levels.
Boar called out from the front of the building, and Drake nodded at Tank, reaching the back door in only a couple of footsteps. They had to move quicker than anticipated.
“Hello, anyone home?” Boar asked before loudly knocking on a wooden surface. He was making enough noise to distract the people inside from the metallic clangs made by the lock as Drake worked his magic on it. In the pale light of a tiny flashlight he held in his mouth, two metal utensils opened the door within a couple of seconds.
Tank entered the kitchen first, cringing when the old wooden floor creaked under his feet. One glance around was enough to know no one lived here. Roaches ran away from under his feet, and a mouldy fridge with nothing inside stood open. Drug den maybe?
Drake was right behind him, but when Riggs shouted something to Boar through the window, it was high time to act. They entered the corridor, going for the single lit room at the front of the house when a tall, muscular figure emerged. The man bore no resemblance to Riggs, but before he could have reached to his holster, metal flashed past the side of Tank’s face and darted at the stranger. The knife lodged in the man’s throat, but he didn’t get to bleed to death. Tank sent a bullet straight into his forehead.
A female shriek tore through the air, but with the element of surprise off the table, there was no choice but to move fast. Glass broke in the main room, and a dull thud followed. By the time Tank and Drake stepped over the stranger’s body and entered the living room, the growling of a mean-looking German shepherd was the only noise accompanying the soft jazz melody coming from a tiny battery-operated radio placed in the middle of a dirty table.
Boar stood over another male’s body, and Pyro peeked inside through the broken window, his Glock aimed at the dog, which lowered its body over the floor, baring its teeth to protect its mistress.
“Come here, Mylo, it’s okay,” the woman whimpered, like a cornered animal herself. “Please, I don’t know what this is about. I haven’t seen or heard anything, I’ll just go!” she wheezed, clutching at the front of her blouse so hard her knuckles whitened.
All three pairs of eyes looked to Tank from behind balaclavas.
Tank assessed the woman. She was very well groomed, slim, wore high heels and even had a fancy streak of pink in her hair, but the wrinkles around her eyes betrayed she was older than she appeared at first glance.
“Go,” he said in a low voice, watching her every move. “Go and don’t tell anyone what you saw here,” he said, watching her rise on shaky legs.
For a brief moment, he feared she’d be unable to control her gait in the uncomfortable-looking shoes, but once she attached a leash to her dog’s collar, fear seemed to evaporate from her body. “Thank you. Thank you,” she uttered over and over, pulling her canine protector closer, because it still appeared aggravated, baring its teeth despite its mistress’s commands.
Seconds stretched as they watched her leave through the door and stumble down the porch, toward the white SUV.
“You sure we shouldn’t keep her here until we’re done? She could alert the cops,” Drake said, kicking over the body, which lay face down close to the porch. Riggs.