Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

then craned my neck.
“You got something?” Jackal asked.
“Thought I heard movement. It’s nothing,” I replied. “How are we coming. I’m losing my patience and am about to start cleaving skin off.”
Juan pounded the keys in frustration. “There. I think–I’ve got it.” He pointed at a red blinking dot overlaid on a map.
“Where is that?” Jackal asked, inching closer to the screen. Andrès and I moved in for a closer look as well.
Juan zoomed out. “That’s strange.”
“What is?” I asked, looking down at him.
“The plane is no longer moving from what I can tell. Looks like they stopped in Utah, near Salt Lake City. That’s the last known position of the aircraft,” Juan answered through strained breath.
Jackal glanced at me. “You think they crashed or something?”
“It’s possible, or some interference is blocking the signal like everything else,” I replied. Who knows? Either way, we need to find out for sure.”
“If they crashed, then job completed,” Jackal shot back. “Is it necessary to track down wreckage?”
I pointed at the screen with the tip of my dagger. “We need proof and that isn’t it. If we go back and tell Mr. Coleman that the job’s been completed and Lawson pops back up, our heads will be on the chopping blocks.”
“Listen. I don’t know who hired you–or why you’re after Lawson, but it seems–that we’re after the same thing here.” Andrès tilted his head to the side while keeping his fingers pointed at the ceiling. “Like I said, I have money–and resources. Perhaps we could–work together on this. Find a mutual beneficial resolution for both–”
The tip of my dagger plunged into Andrès’s throat, shutting him up. He gurgled on his blood, then dropped to the floor.
Jackal placed a round in the back of Juan’s head. The sound of wet cement slapped against the console. His body draped over the control board—lifeless.
I bent down and wiped the blood from the dagger on Andrès’s pants. “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll pass.”
“Shit.” Jackal took a step closer to one of the surveillance monitors.
“What is it?” I asked.
“More trouble.”

CHAPTER THREE
 
 
SCARFACE
I stared at the security monitors, watching the small convoy of vehicles roll up alongside Andrès’s estate. Their headlights sliced through the darkness as they came to a skidding halt.
“We don’t have time for this,” I said under my breath, agitated by the inconvenience of the backup forces arriving.
Jackal ejected the magazine from the assault rifle he carried. “Not going to get too far on what I’ve got left. We need some more firepower.”
I peered over my shoulder, then pointed at the gunmetal-gray, steel locker on the far wall. “See what’s in there. Could be a cache of weapons.”
“Roger that.” Jackal turned and sprinted toward the cabinet. “It’s locked.”
“Bust it off, then.” I skimmed over the monitors, watching the suits unload from the sedan.
It looked to be Gao’s men, the Chinese mob boss we hit up in Chinatown earlier. He couldn’t have been there for us. He had to be coming to speak with Andrès, though, the drawn weapons they packed said they wouldn’t be doing much conversing.
Their flashlights flickered to life as they spread out and converged on the house.
I looked over the control board, searching for anything to log the last known position of the plane and my payday. The Maglite helped some, but I struggled to find anything of use.
A loud clanging sound echoed in the room. Jackal rammed the buttstock of the rifle against the lock. It gave and fell to the floor.
“Bingo.” Jackal clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. “They’ve got some goodies stocked in this cabinet. You got an exit for us or are we plowing the road?”
I scrounged up a scrap piece of paper and a pen from the control board that Juan’s dead body laid on, and jotted down the coordinates and the city.
“Talk to me,” Jackal said, his tone a bit louder.
I searched the screens while pocketing the paper and flashlight, looking for a way out of the house with the least amount of resistance.
The tip of my finger tapped the monitor. “Far side of the house near the exterior garage. We’ve got a Suburban and no activity that I can see on the cameras,” I answered. “Looks like Gao’s men are coming through the front entrance.”
“How many?”
“Enough to be a problem. Too dark to get a good headcount. We’ll need to go stealth mode. No lights.”
Jackal removed a rifle from the hold, then whistled. “Here.” He tossed me the weapon.
I snatched it out of the air, then secured my dagger in its sheath inside my tattered coat. I thumbed the Maglite off and shoved it into the pocket of my trousers.
Jackal doled out a couple extra magazines and a Glock 17 from the small armory. He cycled a round, then turned toward the open door of the security room. He thumbed his flashlight off, then asked, “You ready?”
I pocketed the extra mags and chambered a round. “Let’s get out of here and back on to business.”
Jackal shouldered the rifle and made for the door. He swept the area quickly, then ventured out into the dull murk of the hallway.
In the distance, muttered voices loomed from the interior of the expansive home. Footfalls rapped against the marble floor. We moved as one, sweeping the dark halls for any inbound shooters.
We hit a blind corner and stopped.
Light probed from the adjoining hallway. The tip of a dress shoe stepped out from around the bend, followed by the barrel of an Uzi.
Jackal held firm, waiting for the shooter to present himself. The tailored suit emerged from the blind corner, offering Jackal a clean shot at the side of his head.
Jackal squeezed the trigger, placing a single round in