Keeping You: KJ Elite Inc. (34 page)

“Oh, yeah? I’ve got two daughters, myself. Real pretty little things. Don’t know where they got the looks – sure doesn’t look like me or the Mrs.!” He joked, laughing obnoxiously. “Yeah, they’re a handful alright. But they make it all worth it in the end.”

“Oh, she sure will.”

“Right this way, Mr…” Dad pretended to be inspecting the paperwork for his name.

“Just Roberto.”

Dad led them between some containers, weaving in and out of the path between different containers.

“Lost visual.” Baby said.

“I’ve got sights.” Candace answered.

Mike’s team was now closest to them. I began moving my team around when the unmistakable pop of a glock sent me running toward the noise.

“Dad’s hit. I repeat, dad’s hit. Marcus slipped away, find him.” Mike told us all.

“Candace, still have visual?” Peyton asked.

“No. He’s bobbing and weaving. Headed West.”

West, got it. I took off running like a freight train when another pop, then the crack of bone as his bullet collided with my left side collar bone.

Fuck!

The pain is nothing right now, it’s the way he managed to stay out of Candace and Baby’s line of sight while he took his time and lined up his shot. I didn’t even see him or it coming.

The shot wasn’t enough to slow me down though. I’m a righty so all is well.

“Noah!” Paulie yells behind me.

“I’m fine, keep moving. Get him.”

Jamie would have heard the shots, but not seen the actual damage done. Unless my team could see it behind us.

“Hey, at least he ain’t usin’ cop killers.” I joke, fighting the pain and frustration.

“Har. Har.” Matt said over the mic. “I’d like to go on record that if I get shot again this time, I’m not playing with you guys anymore.”

“Bitch.”

“Woosy!”

“Pussy.”

“Faggot!”

A bunch of names were yelled over the feed as everyone gave him a hard time.

“Can we focus on taking this fucker out before we start celebrating?” Peyton barked sounding winded.

“Southwest corner, I’ve got him but not a kill shot.” Candace shouts in our ears.

She’s running a .50 cal with suppressor when she takes the shot.

“Got him in the arm, 200 points. Eye for an eye, or so I tried.”

“Thanks, Candy.” I blew her a kiss over the line and ran towards the southwestern corner.

Reverting back to my training, I clear the corners and hallways created by shipping containers stacked on and between other shipping containers.

I miss the small gap that Marcus is hiding in until he sweeps out and knocks my leg out from under me. My prosthetic.

I can hear Jamie screaming behind Luke when he mutes the line.

“Turn off my go-pro, Luke.”

On my ass, I look up at Marcus who has his glock extended out, cocked sideways like a sloppy gangster.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” He asked, his arm trembling.

At least Candace managed to get him in his predominant arm. He’d have shit luck at hitting me, even at this close proximity. The gun is growing too heavy for him and he’s losing blood.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that daddy-in-law.” I smiled at him, my menacing, evil grin.

“I’m Jamie’s husband and you are not her father. Just make it easy on everyone and shoot yourself in the head.”

“You talk big for someone who’s down on his knees. Well, knee.”

“Actually, I’m on my ass. I think you’d recognize the position since it’s how you sit while other’s do your dirty work, you coward.”

Thanking God and Luke for being a pain in my ass and forcing me to rehab, I pick myself up and focus on finding my balance. Let me be clear, fighting on one leg is basically ninja status – hard as hell, but not impossible. Impressive, but not impossible. I’ve trained for this but it always comes down to the moment.

“What do you think you’re gonna do, cripple?”

“I’m gonna let Jamie see me kick your ass like you did to her and then I’m gonna empty my magazine in your brain.

I reach to my left hip where I conveniently have my 21’ expandable baton. If he takes one more step towards me, it goes across his wound and then his knees.

One of Marcus’s guards enters my periphery to the left a second before I realize Marcus won’t get to feel the wrath of my new toy.

“Just like I said, Marcus – lettin’ someone else do your dirty work. Sit tight, I’ll get with you in a minute.”

The new guy steps forward, fakes left, hits right and swings out at my ribs. Instead of connecting with my side, I bring the butt of my baton down on his wrist bone effectively breaking his wrist. I follow up with a hook to his chin before flinging the baton down to extend and give him a little tap right in the holy land. A shot is fired, splattering his blood across my cheek.

“Headshot, 1000 points.” Baby cheered.

“Damn.”  Candace says.

“My girl!”

Marcus looks a little worried, hovering between containers. His arm is dropped and his gun dangles from his fingertips.

“You really should train as if you were ambidextrous.”

“Fuck yourself.”

“Maybe later.”

I can’t really walk to him without making myself too vulnerable, basically because walking means hopping. My prosthetic sits a foot behind him.

“Alright. If my count is correct, that leaves one. Olly olly oxen free, motherfucker!”

They always say, “be careful what you wish for,” and really, we should all listen to that.

Baby and Luke holler warnings a minute too late when overly large arms wrap around my chest and squeeze.

“What do you want me to do with him, boss?” The voice is high-pitched but dull.

“Oh, man. You sound just as dumb as you look. It’s the steroids, right?”  He squeezes tighter making my vision swim. There are three teams trained to kill the enemy, in the very near vicinity and two snipers who just need him to take one step in either direction; I’m not worried about the ending.

Until Marcus lifts his injured arm and pops off a round in my each of my thighs. No matter how fucking bad it hurts, I won’t give him the satisfaction of showing it.

“How did you know where I was? Never mind. Bryant. I should have known that Boy Scout wasn’t loyal.”

Ha! Bryant? Boy Scout? Ha! Who has he been working with?

“Oh, no, he was totally loyal. He was loyal to taking you down.” Dad said, coming up slowly behind Marcus.

“Get any closer and I put a crater in your son’s face, Nolan.”

Dad’s step faltered.

“You think I didn’t do my homework, is that right? I know all about you and that succulent wife of yours. You’ve got more secrets than a confessional.”

Dad tossed his head back and laughed.

“That’s a good one. I’ll have to tell the guys at the office. Seriously though, you’re better off just surrendering considering we have you completely surrounded. There’s no way out this time, Marcus.”

Marcus was at a loss for words. He flung his hand around a few times telling the others showing up to stay back and not think about it. Which is obviously a very stupid thing to say when you’re outmanned.

About twelve shots pop off and the arms around me have disappeared. Paulie replaces them, throwing my arm over his shoulders and taking my weight.

I’m tired of playing tea party now.

Dad tosses my prosthetic this way, making Marcus flinch as it sails over his head. He lets off a shot in my direction and turns to take a shot at dad, leaving his whole rear opened.

Doing a mental inventory of my pain, I can tell I haven’t been shot anywhere else.  Once I’ve finished, I register another voice calling out to Paulie who is now laying at my feet – foot.

Blood is pouring from his head, too much to be able to tell where exactly he was hit, from up here. Matt took up my other side as GQ and Tommy started removing Paulie from the equation.

When you’re beyond miracles, you lose your head and start making rash decisions, jerky movements, half-baked plans come to life and you sign your own death certificate.

My focus moves back to my piece.

“Thank you, Jesus. Mike, get my leg.”

I don’t need to give him detailed instructions, he can figure it out on his own.

He gets a good grip on it before going Barry Bonds on Marcus’ ass, knocking him right on the side of his knee, crippling him. Marcus folds down to the ground, howling in pain and waving his glock around carelessly.

“Marcus Dwayne Wright, you are under arrest.” Dad carried on with his spiel, cuffing Marcus. Matt and Peyton help me while Mike puts humpty dumpty back together again. No one said a word or eyed me like I kicked their puppy. Once I was all good and ready, I palmed my Colt .45 ACP Combat Elite and put my sights square between his eyes.

“Hey, Marcus, one more thing. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. Jamie sends her love.”

Mike blocked dad and I pulled the trigger, emptying my extended magazine in his forehead.

For good measure, the rest of the teams each buried a bullet in his chest.

“Jesus, Noah.”

“He was resisting arrest and tried to attack you. Don’t worry dad, we got your back.”

Matt leaned over Marcus’s bloody body and whistled. “Damn, Kane, that’s a nice tight shot group.”

“Practice, Mathew.”

“Let’s go home. I miss my wife.” Andy yawns. “Let the feds deal with his shit.”

“My team split up and the other half is kicking down the doors of Marcus’ generals. The entire operation is being extinguished. Not to say someone else won’t pick up where he left off, but there is going to be a shit ton of arrests and paperwork to be done in the coming months.” Dad told us.

He had to stay behind so Peyton flew us home – after we threatened a repeat of Marcus if he tried to barrel roll in the jet. You really cannot trust fighter pilots.

“Come on, you spoil sports!” He cried.

I spent the whole ride just savoring the kill. The monster inside me fed from the rush of killing. I was a monster created to eliminate monsters.

From now on, Jamie and I could live our lives for us. No more looking over her shoulder or wondering.

Luke told me Taylor sat on him and threatened to squeeze his dick off if he touched the live feeds. Jamie saw it all and then disappeared into our room.

Baby is sitting on my left when Bryant approaches us and kicks my foot for attention.

“How you holdin’ up?”

“Still in one piece.”

“Technically two.” He grinned.

Baby laughed loudly and then slapped a hand over her mouth, apologizing profusely.

“Why that whole production with Jay?”

“Were you not there watching?”

“So you gave up one of your guys for us just because he tried to assassinate my fish?”

“Don’t forget your turtles.” Bryant pointed out.

I chuckled and he answered.
“Dude, you can’t trust a guy who kicks innocent puppies.”

“Or fish.”

“And turtles.” He shrugged. “Hey, they’re your animal’s man. Truthfully though, I had to pick one of them and it wasn’t going to be Saul. I knew I was going to give you some info one way or another and he was my weakest link.”

“Obviously. The man has no soul. Kicking puppies and fish.”

“And turtles.”

“You really like turtles, don’t you?”

“How can you not?”

“They’re my animals!”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!”

Jesus, I feel like I’m on a tilt-a-whirl.

“See, don’t you miss working together?”

“Baby, why didn’t you strangle him when you had the chance? Why did
I
strangle him when I had the chance?”

She patted my arm and pulled Bryant away from me when Tommy showed up with his first aid kit.

We brought Doc along for just these types of occasions, except she’s a bit pre-occupied trying to assess and attempt fixing Paulie’s gunshot wound. Her face when we hauled him up the jet steps was telling; Doc has seen a lot of life-threatening bullet wounds.

I fell asleep when Tommy started inspecting my bullet wound. Apparently I had a broken collarbone from the shot. You know what they do to treat a broken collarbone? Not a fucking thing. Hallelujah for shots of the good stuff.

“It’s broken so it’ll hurt like a bitch. I’ll keep you high as a kite but that’s all I can do for you.”

Because I needed his expert opinion to figure that out.

By the time we landed home, my adrenaline high was faded and I was exhausted still. More so than before I fell asleep.

“You need another shot before I pop smoke?”

“Nah, I got something to take care of.”

“I thought we just did that. You good?”