HANS: Alliance Series Book Four(74)
Hans uses his sword like a toothpick in a grape and maneuvers Second Man so he’s standing with his back to the stairs. But from the way the man is slumped, I think Hans is supporting his weight.
With a shove, Hans sends the man falling backward down the stairs, but he doesn’t release the sword, so it slides free from the man’s body as he falls away.
The thud of the body tumbling down the stairs is loud in the speakers.
Hans kicks the basement door shut, with him still on the other side of it.
I find the screen showing the street, but everything is the same. The driver is still sitting there, head bobbing slightly like he’s listening to music. And I can’t see any signs suggesting where those other two guys are in my house.
I kinda hope Hans kills them too. And not just because they work for that human trafficker asshole, but because they’re going through my things. I won’t be able to wear any of my clothes again, not knowing what they touched. Or use my dishes. I’ll have to freaking burn it all. And that pisses me off.
In the living room, Hans drops to his knees next to the coffee table.
He reaches underneath it, doing something, and then a piece of wood in the center of the table flips open.
Hans lifts the newly revealed rifle from its hiding place.
“Well, that’s clever.”
From his knees, Hans rolls himself over his shoulder in a move I’ve only seen in movies, ending up back on his knees next to the big window on the front of the house.
With one hand, he unlocks the window and slides the pane up. Giving himself just enough room to set the barrel on the windowsill.
I can’t stop my smile.
He’s about to sniper the shit out of those other guys.
Hans lifts something small and black to his mouth.
His voice is low when he speaks, sounding a little off. “You guys are gonna want to see this.”
He drops the black thing, some kind of walkie-talkie he must’ve grabbed off the first dead guy, and lowers his eye to the scope.
It really was the smartest thing to say. Gets the curiosity of the other guys without alarming them.
My front door is hanging open, broken, and my eyes are on it when both men step into view, preparing to walk out of the house at the same time.
The leading man is one step away from the threshold when his head snaps back and red mist fills the doorway.
The man behind him freezes for one second, then turns to dive back into the house.
But Hans is quicker.
A second crack of gunfire fills the speakers while the last man falls to the floor, lifeless.
“Damn.”
Having also heard the gunfire, the driver slams on the gas, but he had it in drive, and he’s facing the end of the cul-de-sac.
He’s got to be the worst getaway driver in history.
The van nearly tips as the driver speeds around the circle in front of the abandoned house, no way out except back between the houses.
I glance back at the screen with Hans.
The angle of the camera means I can’t see Hans’s face, but I can see him shake his head as the van careens back our way. I’m certain he’s rolling his eyes.
I look back to the street view just in time to see the van’s windshield crack, red splattering it from the inside.
CHAPTER 89
Hans
Water drips off my chin, soaking into my T-shirt.
My shirt has plenty of spatter on it, too, but that’s hard to see on the black fabric. Unlike the blood that was all over my face.
I took one minute to scrub my face and hands clean before heading back downstairs. It’s going to be hard enough to get back to our car unnoticed after what I’m about to do, having my face covered in blood would make me way too memorable.
I use the toe of my boot to shove the dead man off the last few steps and onto the basement floor.
There’s no point in checking the bodies for identification. I know who sent them. And now we really need to get to Nero’s.
I’m not one hundred percent sure they won’t turn out to be a bunch of pricks, but there aren’t many places that are safer than his fortress.
While I’m opening the outer door to the safe room, the inner door swings open.
Cassandra stands before me, her eyes blazing and her cheeks flushed.
My eyes dart to the monitors.
She watched.
I reach up and brush my thumb across the front of her throat, feeling her wild pulse.
I don’t like her this close to violence, but I do like her this close to me.
“Do you still trust me?” I have no right asking her this after what she just watched, but I ask it all the same.
She nods, her head only moving the smallest bit. “I do.”
A flash of her in white fills my mind.
Soon, I’ll have her saying I do in another way.
I drag my thumb down her neck, then move into the room and pick up the bags I pulled out of the closet earlier.
First is the backpack of tactical clothes for Cassandra, next is a duffel bag with documents, more clothes, and the few things I don’t want to leave behind.
Moving to the wall, I grab my favorite set of throwing knives and clip the holder onto my belt. Then a Glock and four full clips go into the duffel.
Last, I move to the desk, open up a cupboard locked with a palm-print scanner, and withdraw the little black book of Cassandra’s boudoir photos. Those go into a hidden pocket inside the backpack.