“Maybe you should focus on our mark instead,” Atlas cuts in. We get to the turnaround area Saint was telling us about, and we head back. Atlas goes at a crawl, and when we can see the target’s car ahead, he pulls into the waiting bay reserved for car services.
A guy in a security uniform spots us immediately. Of fucking course.
But as if our stars align and the timing is just right, our guy comes sprinting out of the terminal, briefcase in hand, and jumps into his awaiting town car.
We take off before the security guard reaches us, but we’re too fast for the councilman’s car, which means we end up in front of them heading out of the airport. There are only a million different ways they could go, so maneuvering this could be tricky.
Atlas purposefully drives slow enough to be annoying but not slow enough to tip them off. As expected, the first chance they get, they change lanes to overtake us. Atlas tails them but makes sure to leave at least one or two cars between us so they don’t get suspicious.
We have no idea where he’s going, but as he pulls up to a bright yellow house in the middle of suburbia in fucking Glendale, I rule out any huge drug shipment. Then again, if something big was going to go down, doing it in one of the safest places in LA wouldn’t be a terrible idea because no one would suspect it.
Atlas keeps driving and does a lap of the block just in case they found us out and are trying to ditch us, but as we round the corner, the town car still sits there, and we watch as our target is let inside. I miss who’s at the door and can’t get a glimpse to even guess gender.
As we pass the town car again, I glance into the driver’s side to see if he has even noticed us. He has his face in his phone, so I’m guessing no.
“I’ll round this corner and park so you can backtrack to the house,” Atlas says.
“I’m guessing I’m not going to be lucky enough to find a pathway behind the houses.”
“Nope,” Saint says in my ear. “These houses back on to other houses.”
“And let me guess. They all have big dogs who’ll go for my gonads if I don’t move fast enough.”
“I hope not. I kind of like those on you.”
“You two aren’t doing a good job at showing me I can put you on an op together in this capacity,” Trav grumbles.
“I thought this was a one-off?” I ask. “Isn’t that one of your rules? Not having us on any mission together?”
“I was hoping it would be different if Saint was on tech, but you’re not really selling me on it.”
“We’ll be good,” Saint says, and I decide to respect it.
Because the more jobs we can be on together, the less time we’ll spend apart. Even if we’ll still be physically apart.
“Out you get,” Atlas says.
“Here comes the fun part.” I get out of the car and walk through some trees. The best way to jump through people’s yards without being seen is to scale the back fences and hurdle over those bitches as fast as I can. “Saint, can you pull up current satellite images of the area and tell me if my run is clear?”
“On it.” The sound of tapping comes through my earpiece, and I want to remind him to mute when he’s searching, but I guess he’s still getting the hang of multitasking. “You’re all good to go.”
I suck in a breath and run, leaping over the first wall and landing with a thud. And then the next one, and the next one. I’m on a roll when I encounter my first guard dog, but I run so fast I’m over the next fence by the time he starts barking.
My chest heaves from exertion, but I’m one house away, so I slow down. Where I could be swift and fast, now I need to be stealthy.
I slowly climb over the target’s fence and drop with light footing and crouch down. My first priority is to get out of the line of sight, so I run toward the house, still crouching, and throw myself up against the yellow stucco under a window. I plant my ass on the ground and strain to listen to what’s going on inside, but I can’t hear anything.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I round the house and go to the next window. The closer I get, the louder I can hear two people murmuring.
No, not murmuring. Moaning.
I lift my head to make sure what I’m hearing is actually happening, and even though the room has lace curtains, they’re thin as fuck. And as I get an eyeful of Councilman Rowling’s ass as he pounds into a woman with her legs stuck straight up in the air, I wish the curtains were thicker.