Two men came in heavy, decked out in full assault gear, strapped with AR-15s. They had a direct bead on the old man, and when the old man turned, bringing up the rifle, the men didn’t hesitate—they opened fire.
Nova pushed Jessica to the floor. He dove over the kitchen table into the living room. Rolling onto the carpet, tipping over an end table, he came back up and took out the first man, then the second. The second man’s finger was stuck on the trigger, and he sprayed bullets at the ceiling as he went down, chunks of plaster falling like rain.
“Are you okay?” he asked Jessica.
She was slowly picking herself up off the floor, grimacing at the pain in her ankle. “I think so.”
Nova approached the men, slowly, knowing the first man was dead, the second man still alive. That man was on the floor, taking quick, shallow breaths, blood around his mouth. His eyes shifted up to meet Nova.
Nova checked the broken front door. Through it was a narrow walkway that led to the street. The street itself was deserted, the houses beyond it dark and quiet.
He crouched down beside the man. “How many others are there?”
The man glared up at Nova.
A gasp drew Nova’s attention. Jessica was now in the hallway on her knees beside the old man. He had been shot repeatedly in the chest. His undershirt was soaked with blood.
Jessica looked at Nova, tears brimming her eyes. “He’s dead.”
Nova withdrew his knife. The blade popped up, the handle whirled in his hand, and suddenly the knife was in the man’s thigh.
The man grunted in pain, blinked several times, but said nothing.
“How many?”
When the man still said nothing, Nova twisted the knife.
The man grunted again, his breaths quickening even more.
“Stop it!” Jessica shouted. “Haven’t enough people died already?”
Nova kept his focus on the man glaring back at him.
“Not even close.”
He pulled out the knife, spun the handle again, and shoved the blade into the man’s throat.
Outside, the growing roar of engines filled the night. Nova left the blade in the man’s throat. He grabbed his rifle and stood back up. He approached one of the windows, using the barrel of the rifle to move the curtain. Two pickup trucks, both with heightened suspension, screeched to a halt in front of the house. Doors opened and men piled out. There were five of them in all, fanning out across the lawn. They didn’t advance, but they kept their positions, all aiming rifles at the house.
An SUV arrived. The passenger door opened and out stepped Connolly. He wore full assault gear, just like the rest of the men, only his hand was bandaged. In his other hand he held a radio. He placed the radio to his mouth, began to talk. Nova could hear his voice outside, but he could also hear a faint whispering coming from behind him. He turned, confused at first, then noticed the comm units in both of the dead men’s ears.
Each comm unit wrapped around the ear, its connecting wire disappearing beneath their vests and coming out to the radios clipped to their belts. Nova moved to the first dead man, stripped him of the earpiece and radio, clipped the radio to his own belt and put the earpiece in his ear.
Moving back to the window, hitting the toggle switch, Nova said, “Is the job offer still on the table?”
“Casanova Bartkowski,” Connolly said. “Am I pronouncing that right? Just who the fuck names their kid Casanova?”
“How’s the hand?”
“You are quite an anomaly. We got your name from your car, but that wasn’t even your real name. It took a while to crack your false ID, then I had a friend of mine search your name through the Pentagon. Like you said, you were a SEAL. Served quite a few tours. Impressive. But then a few years ago your record goes black. My friend had never seen that before, so he did more digging. Not even five minutes passed before he got a phone call from someone way up the chain asking him what the fuck he thought he was doing. Scared the shit out of him, is what he told me.”
“It sounds like your friend is a pussy.”
“You’re surrounded. I have men out back, too. You might as well give up now and save us all some time.”
“The man who owns this house is dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He had nothing to do with any of this.”
“That’s true. But you brought this fight to his doorstep—literally. Don’t blame me.”
Across the street a few lights came on. Curtains moved, faces peeked out, then those faces disappeared and the lights went off.
Connolly said, “Do you think anyone in this town is going to help you? I own them all. I own the police. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Now put down your weapons and come out with the girl.”
Nova returned to the two dead men. He shouldered their AR-15s and moved into the kitchen to check the window over the sink. Three men were fanned out in the backyard.
Hitting the toggle switch again, he said, “I have a counter offer.”
Amusement in Connolly’s voice: “And what is that?”
Nova checked the garage, found only the outline of a car in the darkness, a propane gas grill beside the door, then started toward the other end of the house to check the other rooms. “You and your men get back in the trucks and leave. I’ll give you an hour head start.”
“Before what?”
“Before I track down and kill every last one of your men. I’ll save you for last.”
The amusement didn’t leave Connolly’s voice. “You’re delusional.”
“No, I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”
“Very well. I’ll give you ten more seconds until my men open fire.”
Nothing useful in the bedroom or bathroom, at least at a second’s glance.
“Ten.”
Nova hurried back down the hallway.
“Nine.”
He passed Jessica, dropping the two AR-15s on the carpet beside her, and went straight for the garage door.
“Eight.”
Yanked the propane tank from the grill.
“Seven.”
The tank didn’t want to come at first, and he had to jiggle a lever in the back to get it to pop out.
“Six.”
Took the tank to the refrigerator.
“Five.”
Opened the door, the light coming on inside, illuminating soda and cold cuts and ketchup and mayonnaise, and he swept it all out onto the floor, along with the middle panel.
“Four.”
Shoved the propane tank inside, slammed the door shut.
“Three.”
Hurried back to Jessica still on her knees beside the dead old man, now openly sobbing.
“Two.”
He fell down beside her, whispered into her ear, “Just stay flat and don’t move,” and pushed her down onto the carpet, covering her with his body.
“One.”