Bang (B-Squad 2)

Keeping his gun pointed at the unconscious thug and the other two goons in his periphery vision, he grabbed his phone and hit the first number on his contact list.

"No after-dinner fun, huh?" Lash asked in greeting.

"Still got a handful of Black Cat fireworks in your desk?"

Marko may be the B-Squad's explosives expert, but he wasn't the only one who loved to see things go boom.

"That counts as one of your weirder questions," Lash said. "Yes."

"I need you to light a couple and toss them out of Tamara's office window on my count." Her window faced the side street. A loud noise coming from that direction would send Bored Driver and Beard Man away from where he and Tamara would be running.

To Lash's credit, the surprised silence only lasted a few seconds. "Do I get to ask why?"

"Later."

The sound of a drawer banging open, some rustling, and then the drawer slamming shut filtered through the phone. "Okay, got ’em." Thirty seconds of dead air. "I'm in position."

"On three, Lash." Isaac scoped out the scene between the bakery alcove and the garage door. "One." The other men didn't even glance this way. Red Shirt must have been a floater. "Two." He gave Tamara one last reassuring look. "Three."

They burst out of the shadows at the same time the night went alive with the snap, crackle, pop of a bazillion fireworks. Beard Man took off at a sprint toward the noise. Bored Driver took his focus off the gym. It was exactly the break they needed. They closed the half a block distance by the time the last firecracker went boom. At the garage's keypad, Isaac punched in his code and pressed his thumb against the scanner. The garage door began rolling up. Bored Driver turned his head, his gaze zeroing in on them. Isaac raised his gun. The other man's lips curled into a cold smile, obviously not so bored any more.

"Tamara, get down and roll under as fast as you can, then hit the red emergency button to close it back down."

She spread her legs shoulder width apart and raised Red Shirt's Beretta. "I'm not leaving you out here alone."

"Darlin', I love your spirit but now is not the time." The garage door inched up.

"I'm not your darling."

It wasn't the time for banter. Shit was about to go down. But before he could open his mouth again, the driver got out.

The guy was easily six-three with a buzz cut and a military-grade automatic rifle in his grip. "Tell me where Essie is and we'll let you go. Jarrod's orders."

Beard Man came tearing around the corner and began approaching from the west. "Tamara, you can't keep a dad away from his baby girl. We'll tell the judge we never laid eyes on you and that we found her on our own."

"Clive, that's only because I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere," she said, the words heavy with disgust. "Now go back and tell Jarrod that he'll never get his hands on Essie again."

Beard Man, a.k.a. Clive, took a step forward, his eyes only on Tamara. "I make it a rule not to lie to Jarrod."

"Yeah, I hear that's an easy way to end up permanently missing," Isaac said, drawing both men's attention off of Tamara as the garage door rolled up. Another few inches and it would be up high enough for her to step back inside without having to dip down and lower her Beretta, then she could hit the emergency release and the door would drop like a lead weight, cutting her off from Fane's men.With her safe behind the secure behind the blast-resistant garage door, Isaac would be free to take them down.

"We're not going anywhere until you talk,"

Sirens sounded a block away and an unmarked black SUV with windows tinted darker than Satan's soul turned the corner. "Oh yes you are."

Even an idiot knew that kind of vehicle meant law enforcement, and not of the local variety.

No doubt figuring adding more guns minus badges to the situa

tion would only escalate things, the team upstairs must have called in Blackfish. Bianca wasn't afraid to throw some B-Squad weight around, but she did it strategically. A bloodbath in front of their headquarters would bring a shitload of bad PR, legal investigations, and even possibly have their Texas state investigations license yanked—none of which was good. So why throw Napalm on the situation when your friendly neighborhood Feds owed you a favor or twelve?

Beard Man hustled toward his car and Fane’s other lackey hid his automatic rifle behind his back,scooting toward to the vehicle as Isaac and Tamara holstered their handguns. By the time DEA Agent Clay Blackfish pulled to a stop in the middle of the street between them, Beard Man had his hand on the passenger door and the driver was behind the steering wheel.

"Y'all holding a party in the street without a permit?" the agent asked through the open car window, not bothering to get out of the vehicle.

A second agent sat in the passenger seat, his attention focused on Fane's men. It was impossible to see if the agent had a weapon pointed at the other men but the odds were good.

"Nah, you know me. I'm a homebody," Isaac said.