CRAIG AND LANDRY WATCHED THE TREES FROM THE COVER OF THE HOUSE, BUT NOTHING HAPPENED. What had caused someone to expend a whole magazine like that? Was it Ackerman or one of his guys firing at Ackerman? Why hadn’t anyone reported in?
He keyed his mic and asked for a status report.
This time, no one answered.
Landry looked over at him and shook his head in disbelief. The big black man said, “I say we get the hell out of Dodge while we’re still breathing.”
“He’s one guy.”
“One guy who’s taken down four of us already.”
“I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Pull yourself together. Here’s the plan. We—”
The loud hum of a boat engine echoed out from the backyard. Landry shook his head and asked, “What now?”
Craig replied, “It’s just another distraction. But it’s about time we stopped dancing to his tune. Let’s change the rules of this little game.”
*
Ackerman waited in the rafters of the boathouse for his prey to answer his call. He had a little trap rigged up, and he really hoped that only one of the two remaining mercenaries entered the building. If that happened, he had something very exciting planned.
Although, if they decided to stick together and rush him in force, he would be forced to use the pistol he had taken from the Hispanic man he had killed. That scenario wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, but sometimes business had to take precedence over pleasure.
There were other possible outcomes and ways in which the mercenaries might react, but he felt that he had adequately accounted for the most likely results. And even if Craig went all out and tried to burn the boathouse to the ground, Ackerman knew that he could easily escape into the water and swim to safety.
Ackerman was running through the scenarios and mentally practicing his reactions—so that he could move instinctively and without thought when the moment came—when he heard Craig’s voice call out to him from the backyard.
*
Craig dragged Maggie down the steps of the back porch by her hair. Her hands and feet were bound, but she fought him every inch of the way. He was glad that she was fighting back. He liked it when they struggled.
Landry took cover beside him, his assault rifle trained on the boathouse.
Maggie said, “You look scared, Craig. Guess Ackerman lives up to the hype after all.”
He kicked her in the side and said, “Shut up.” Then he called out, “Ackerman! It’s over. If you don’t come out now, I’ll put a bullet in Maggie’s head.”
There was no answer, and Craig added, “I’ll give you ten seconds to surrender, and then she’s dead.”
Maggie said, “You think he gives a crap? He’s not some hero. If you think—”
He kicked her again. “Quiet.” He started counting out loud, waiting for Ackerman to emerge. When he reached three, his countdown slowed to a crawl. When he hit two, he stopped speaking altogether and just stood there, watching the boathouse.
Maggie laughed. “Guess he called your bluff.”
Craig shook his head and cursed. He ran a hand through his blond hair and then looked over at Landry and pointed toward the boathouse.
Landry said, “Hell no.”
“That’s an order. Go check it out.”
“If it’s a distraction, then he’s not even in there. Otherwise it’s definitely a trap.”
“I’m getting real sick of you questioning me. When I give an order, you follow it.”
Landry’s gaze went cold, and his lips curled back in a snarl like a junkyard dog’s. “Maybe that would be true if we were soldiers. But we’re not. We’re contractors. Mercenaries. And mercs get paid. Nobody’s paying me to go out there and get my ass killed because some psycho stepped on your toes and bruised your ego. I’m tired of—”
Craig shot Landry in the face. The big black man crumpled to the porch, his blood pooling and flowing down through the floor’s cracks. Craig ripped off his tactical gear and tossed his guns onto the floor. He pulled off his black body armor and stripped down to the black tank top beneath. Stepping down into the yard, he yelled out, “It’s just you and me now, Ackerman. You want a shot at the title? Think you’re King Badass? Think you’re so much better than me? Let’s find out. Just you and me. To the death.”
*
Ackerman had watched through a crack in the boathouse wall as Craig threatened Maggie and killed his own man. He had known that Craig wouldn’t kill Maggie—at least, he didn’t think that he would—but he had been surprised to see that the mercenaries had turned on one another already. He assumed such reactions would have taken at least another day of psychological warfare. They must have been more unstable than he had thought.
Craig stepping down from the porch and challenging him to fight it out, on the other hand, hadn’t been a surprise to him. He had hoped for such a result when the numbers dwindled to this point. He would, of course, accept the challenge, but it still made him sad that he hadn’t been given the opportunity to kill anyone with his last trap.
It would have been glorious.
He stared back at the dock and the airboat idling beside it. He had used a cordless drill he had found among the boathouse tools to remove the back cover of the airboat’s fan. The massive blades were now exposed and fully able to swallow up an entire person. That would have been a delicious sight, but with a sad heart, Ackerman accepted that one couldn’t have it all. It would have been too perfect for him to get the opportunity to toss Craig into the blades of an airboat. He supposed that he would just have to take care of Craig the old-fashioned way, which would be almost as much fun. Almost.