Page 38 of Spark
As we breached the perimeter of the property, we scanned the area for the ten men patrolling the grounds. The property was wide open with the massive brick mansion in the back. Four men were up toward the front of the house, four in the back, and one on either side of the property. Piece of cake. On a silent nod, I gave the order for my men to split up while Scott and I headed for the house.
In a matter of seconds, all the black walking dots dropped to the ground without so much as a sound. Aiden and Calvin were my best snipers, and this was exactly why. On high alert, Scott and I quickly took care of the remaining few stragglers as we hurried through the grounds with a clean sweep. A few short minutes later, the three of my men regrouped while the fourth watched from a distance to see into the house and keep us covered.
“How we doin’ Aiden?” I said into my mouthpiece.
“All clear from here,” he replied.
“Good. Let’s move,” I ordered.
We circled around the house to the back entrance, slipping through the door undetected. My senses ran amuck as I listened for footsteps and watched for movement. Nothing. Silently making our way through the house, it didn’t take long before a barrage of loud footsteps came running down the stairs.
Automatic rifles in hand, we rounded the corner and unloaded into the three advancing men. The sound of gunfire breached the air while my blood rushed with excitement as we watched Weldimer’s men tumble down the steps in a bloody mess.
We began to make our way to the stairs when the sounds of claws against hardwood broke the silence. Barking and snarling, five large Doberman pinchers ran in our direction, hungry for blood. Raising our rifles, we fired into the quickly proceeding pack, but two of the five managed to make it past the gunfire. The biggest one in the pack had already launched himself at me, his teeth ripping into my forearm before I had a chance to reload my gun. Pain seared into my arm while I grabbed my pistol and put two in the big fucker’s chest. I dropped him with a loud squeal, while Scott put the other one down.
“Kid’s held up in the master suite, last door on your right, two armed guards left, but I don’t have a clean shot,” said Aiden through the headset.
“Got it. Heading up there now,” I replied, heading for the stairs, my men in tow.
Blood was seeping through my sleeve, but I ignored it as I clutched my rifle, keeping it tight against my shoulder as we maneuvered over the mess of bodies on the stairs. Once at the top, I immediately scanned the hallway for threats knowing full well this kid’s security measures were for shit. But the sound of glass breaking and a loud thump against the floor confirmed Aiden’s kill.
“One down,” he said as the sound of return fire from the window ensued. Fucking idiots.
My head ran thick with anticipation as we quickly made our way to the door of the master suite, guns at the ready. Raising my foot, I kicked the door clean off its hinges and immediately fired at the remaining guard crouched by the window. He dropped instantly.
Scott was already moving in on Weldimer, narrowly shooting his gun out of his hand with a single shot. Panic washed over his pale, sweaty face, and then he did something even more stupid. He fucking ran. I didn’t want him dead, so I grabbed the nearest thing to me, which happened to be a small chair, and hurled it at his back, causing him to collapse to the floor in a heap.
My men quickly circled him, the muzzles of their guns pointing directly at him while he fucking cowered on the floor. Shaking like a leaf, he raised his hands to his head in surrender, staring up at me with fear bleeding from his eyes. I smirked.
“Hello, Edmund,” I sneered.
Edmund’s chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, his eyes wide with fear as he stared up at me from the floor. His blond hair was dirty and disheveled as he shivered in his worn sweatpants and food-stained t-shirt.
“Look, man, I don’t know what this is about, but you’ve got—”
“Shut the fuck up, Edmund.” I growled. “What? You thought you could just attack one of my warehouses, and I wouldn’t find out about it?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about, man,” he stuttered.
“Oh, I think you do. You see,” I said, pulling out the stupid red bandana that contained his little gang’s symbol and tossed it at him, “one of your guys was kind enough to leave this behind. I thought you might want it back.”
Edmund positively went green. His shit brown eyes lingered on the bandana while sweat dripped down the sides of his stubbly unkempt face.
Finally, he gained some courage to speak. “Look, I never gave them the order to do that. They must have—”
My fist had collided with his jaw before he had a chance to finish his lie.
“You spit one more lie to me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out. There are cameras in all of my warehouses, you little shit, and I have a nice screenshot of your fucking face smiling while you killed three of my men and stole over half a million dollars of my drugs.”
Blood seeped from the side of Edmund’s lip where his teeth had cut into them, and it made me want to keep hitting him so there would be more. Edmund had slumped over onto the floor, unable to hold himself up, until Calvin grabbed him by the shirt to lift him back to his knees.
“Now, I’ve just eliminated your little security fleet with only five of my men. Fucking with me is not wise. So here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to give me the name of the traitorous fuck who gave you the location of that warehouse, and in return, I might only chop off one of your thieving hands.”
Edmund’s eyes went wide with fear as he slowly began to hyperventilate.
“Breathe, Edmund. All I want is a name. If it’s a full name, I might just forgive you altogether.”
“I… I… I don’t,” he started, licking his dry lips as he attempted to think. “I think…”