The Hit (Team Zulu 1)

When the sound of tires on gravel signaled Shep’s return, I smiled and reached for a second mug.

The hair at the back of my neck stood on end. The engine noise was wrong. That wasn’t the low V8 rumble of Shep’s truck.

The cup slipped from my grip in my haste to spin around.

Smash!

My boots crunched over shards of porcelain on my way to the window. I staggered back from the sheer curtains when a black sedan came into view.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

The car stopped at the front of the cabin. The two men inside it didn’t look like cops. I didn’t like the alternative any better. Shep said this place was a secret and he never had visitors.

This was bad.

Seriously fucking bad.

The older one, a stocky guy in his mid-forties, stepped out of the car with an air of cockiness about him. He took in his surrounds as if he owned the place while stroking his dark beard. As he removed his suit jacket, twin pistols in a leather shoulder holster were exposed giving me the impression he was eager to display the firepower he wielded.

The younger guy’s eyes darted around the property, his face set in a grim expression. One hand scraped back and forth over his short-cropped dark hair while the other fidgeted over a bulge at his hip, his black leather jacket concealing what must be a pistol.

My heart hammered in my chest. I covered my mouth to hold in a whimper. With no weapon, no phone, and nowhere to hide, I was a sitting duck.

Goddammit, Shep. I need you.

The older one lit a cigarette, then leaned against the car casual as can be. “Lopez, go knock on the door.” His voice carried a thick Philly accent.

Lopez shifted his weight between his feet, his head whipping back and forth between the older guy and the house. “What?” He choked out a nervous laugh. “Jesus, Pauly, he would’ve heard us pull up. The workshop’s open, there’s no car inside. He’s not home. We should leave.”

Pauly sneered. “Why are you so scared of him? He sneaks around killing assholes, probably shoots them in the back. Anyone can do that.” He took a drag on his cigarette before blowing the smoke skyward. “You’re right, he’s not home. But the boss said look around, so that’s what we’ll do.” He pushed away from the car, then swaggered for the stairs.

Lopez stayed put, his caramel skin turning pale. “I think that’s a bad idea.”

Pauly ignored the comment.

Lightning flashed, and I startled when booming thunder rattled the windows. My heart pounded even faster.

Lopez glanced at the darkening sky and mouthed what appeared to be a string of obscenities, or perhaps a prayer. He lifted the collar of his jacket around his neck and tucked his chin to his chest as though he noticed a sudden drop in temperature, then jogged to catch up with his offsider.

Pauly flicked his cigarette onto the gravel drive. “Quit being such a pussy.”

I had to get out of here.

With trembling fingers, I locked the front door before creeping to the utility room at the back of the house. It was the only other exit.

I flinched when the timber stairs out front creaked. Moments later, the door handle rattled.

Hurry, hurry!

My skin prickled as I snuck out the back door and closed it behind me, the small click of the latch making me wince. Every tiny sound I made was amplified in my ears.

I moved around the back of the house and crept under the deck near the wood pile. My heart threatened to punch right through my chest.

One of them tried to kick the door in. Wood groaned and hinges rattled. Again, they kicked, then again, with success on the third attempt judging by the almighty crash of the heavy door.

I peeked between gaps in the decking. They were inside the cabin. Time to get going.

On shaking legs, I bolted for the cover of the workshop. From there, I made a beeline for the woods and kept running, too scared to check if they’d noticed me.