“You mean with your hand?” I did a jerk-off motion. “Can’t decide if your true love is the left or the right?”
Peter grinned. “Oh fuck off, Nate.”
I turned to David. “What about you, NeckBolts?”
Peter cleared his throat as David stared across the water.
“David doesn’t talk about her,” Peter said quietly.
Oh, shiiiittt. David had a lady? What happened to her? Peter could have nailed me in the face with a two by four, and I wouldn’t have been more surprised than I was at that moment.
Peter’s handheld crackled to life. “Two speedboats, one in front and one behind. The tug has at least a dozen men, maybe more, onboard.”
“Looks like it’s going to be a party.” I snagged my submachine gun from the bow of the boat.
Peter loaded up with two pistols and his favorite Uzi. David wasn’t dicking around, either. He pulled out our newest asset, which took up half the space in the boat, a rotary minigun capable of firing 5,000 rounds a minute. The deck was stacked with ammo canisters, and the plan was for Angus to pilot the boat around the heroin-laden tug while David went Rambo with the gun. It would be a miracle if he didn’t tag one of our own guys in the coming melee.
I took the handheld from Peter and clicked it on to broadcast to all my men. “Game faces, gentleman. Tonight, we strike back. Our number one priority is taking the tug. If shit goes south, we’ll sink the fucking thing. But we will not let the Russians get their filthy paws on that product. We are going to take their futures and make them ours. We will build our empire on their bones and dare any fucker to try and take it from us. Let’s get to work.” I clicked it off and tossed it back to Peter.
He raised an eyebrow. “That was actually hella inspiring.”
“Why are you so fucking surprised?” I palmed my gun and peered into the gloom, the low hum of a speedboat bouncing across the water.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You just seem different these days. More, I don’t know, bossly or something.”
“Bossly?” I shot a glance to David. “You get a load of this guy?”
“He’s right.” The meathead nodded. “It’s Sabrina. She makes you better.”
I know. The speedboat, sleek and white, appeared from the shadows, the tugboat not far behind. A smattering of gunfire pierced the night, barrels flashing on the west shore. As we’d planned, the boats veered away from the danger, hugging the eastern side of the channel. They returned fire, but my guys were well-protected on the shore.
Peter held the wireless at the ready. I held a hand up, waiting for the right moment to strike. The boats increased their speed away from the shooters, racing toward the finish line with their load of smack. They didn’t notice the other tug boat near the west bank. Why would they? It was dark, seemingly anchored for the night.
I dropped my hand, and Peter spoke into the handheld. “Now.”
The tugboat roared to life, its engines already warmed up. At full blast, it pushed toward the shore, and behind it, a hundred feet of metal cable rose from the water, the other end bolted to a steel dock. Snapping tight just above the waterline, the wire groaned under the tension.
The first speedboat didn’t have a chance. It rammed the wire, which ripped it apart, cut through the wood and fiberglass like a blunt knife in the hand of a killer. Only a splintered husk remained, the dual engines sputtering as they sank. The Russians’ tug slowed and began to turn, seeking to escape.
“Let’s go.” I spun my finger in the air.
An armada of boats powered into the river, forming a floating wall down and upriver from the tug and the second speed boat. They had nowhere to go. The speedboat tore a circle around the tugboat, the men onboard firing indiscriminately outward.
As it approached, I glanced at David, who held the rotary gun at his hip. “Light it up.”
The gun whined as the carbine began to spin. Then David put the hammer down. Slugs cut through the dark river, sending up a small jet of water. When his aim found the boat, he sliced through it almost as surely as the cable had cut through the other one. Round after round, he destroyed their hull as the other boats fired on the men aboard. It only took seconds for it to become a lifeless hulk floating in the cold water.
Only the tug was left, floating in a sea of killers, the way blocked.
“Hello?” A thick Russian accent marked the voice. “You in the boats there?”
I whirled. It was coming from the onboard radio.
“Hello, I’d like to talk. Okay?”
Peter looked at me and shrugged.
I stepped over and picked up the mic. “Yeah.”