Chapter Ninety-Eight

After all the years of facing down criminals, Angel still felt a rush of terror in her chest as she stepped out of the truck the next night to go and face what awaited them in the warehouse where Redgamer3 and Noah were to meet.

She should be better at this. She should be stone cool and calm. But she wasn’t. The best she could do was act like she was.

She swallowed down her nervousness and checked her ammo again.

“It’s not too late to call in reinforcements,” Colton reminded her.

“No. We’re good. We’ve got this.”

He nodded, but she knew it wasn’t in agreement. Rather, it was a nod of resignation.

It was definitely protocol to have backup, and she’d nearly caved and called Thorne. But she couldn’t.

This wasn’t a sanctioned mission. They would be considered rogue, like her, if anyone found out. She wouldn’t do that to them. However pissed off they’d be when they found out.

She could deal with angry friends. She couldn’t help them, or herself, if they were all arrested together. Going alone was the only way.

She stepped into the cool darkness of the warehouse. How cliché. Everyone knew bad things happened at warehouse meetings. Why Noah would ever have agreed to this place, she couldn’t fathom.

They arrived an hour before the meeting. They listened, and waited. Expecting that Noah, Redgamer3, or both, would have brought their own people ahead of the meeting.

No one came.

Which made her even more nervous.

“What is going on?” she whispered when they heard the door open and a single set of footsteps enter the building.

Colton shook his head. “Maybe they’re planning to have a normal meeting, not a shootout like we’re expecting.” He frowned down at his gun as if discouraged that he wouldn’t have the chance to use it.

She smiled and looked away, adjusting her Kevlar vest. She hated wearing it, it felt too restrictive, but it was the safe thing.

They hid behind a pallet as a man walked out into the large open area. It was Noah.

Across the warehouse, she heard another door open and close. Another single set of footsteps approached.

Angel let out a little breath of relief. It seemed Redgamer3 hadn’t come with an army, after all. Colton would never let her hear the end of it if they’d been outnumbered.

“You’re Jim?” Noah’s voice echoed in the expansive space.

“I’m here.” The other man had a southern accent, and a low, calm voice. Recognition stirred, but she couldn’t place it. “Did you really come alone?”

“You told me to,” Noah said.

“Yes, but— Never mind. Where’s the money?” Jim got right to business.

“Where’s the prototype?” Noah asked as Colton made a face that he was impressed by Noah’s snappy retort.

She recognized the two clicks of a briefcase being opened, and rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t expected Redgamer3 to actually bring the prototype to the drop. This guy was not doing anything the way she expected.

“The money?” he asked, almost pleasantly.

Noah’s feet shuffled. “I was hoping you’d accept a better offer. I’ll pay you twice what we agreed upon if you’ll give me a chance to sell it first.”

“You don’t have the money.” The other man’s voice was now flat and dry.

A chill ran down Angel’s spine. It was the voice of a killer. A sociopath with no emotion.

Angel nodded to Colton. It was time to move. This was going south, and Noah was blowing it.

“Well, no,” Noah said. “But you know I’m good for it. I just need—”

Noah was silenced by a single gunshot.

Angel jumped at the loud bang that echoed through the building, and again at the quieter thump of Noah’s body falling to the floor.

“Jesus,” Colton whispered.

Redgamer3 hadn’t even considered the counteroffer.

Angel hesitated for only a second, wondering for the first time if she’d bitten off more than she could chew with someone so unstable. But he was snapping the case shut and would be leaving. They had to act now.

Motioning to Colton, she indicated they should split up to move around each side of the pallet and join up on the other side with guns drawn.

“Freeze!” Colton yelled as earlier agreed upon…after a round of rock, paper, scissors.

“Hello, Angel.”

There was no southern accent now. She recognized the voice at the same time she identified the man standing across from her, gun raised and pointed straight at her.

He had been expecting her to come to the meet.

But she had not expected this.

“Lucas,” she choked out as ice water rushed through her veins.