Shifting around the long marble counter, he grabbed a small knife out of the collection in the block. Never hurt to have an extra weapon. The size, easy to tuck into the edge of his glove, gave him one more advantage. Or so he hoped.
In front of him loomed several doorways. He could see into a large room with a television. He closed his eyes and thought about the plans. He needed to go deeper into the house and find Tony’s home office. If that didn’t work, Joel would head for the stairwell.
But the thumping kept grabbing his attention. With a brief look around, he skipped the downstairs check and headed for the bottom of the stairs. Cam met him there. He pointed up and Joel knew they shared the same idea.
The double height of the entry let them study a wide area, but not every angle. The steps curved, so the top landing wasn’t fully visible. Someone could be hiding, but Joel bet not.
Tony sat at a desk all day. He didn’t plan attacks. The one he had tried to handle ended up with two men dead and too many questions. Joel doubted that went as hoped.
Careful to stay to the side and not to hit a creaky spot, they trailed each other up the stairs. Joel took the lead and kept his attention above them. The responsibility for scanning the area below and calling out about danger fell to Cam. Joel couldn’t think of another man he trusted more with his back. Cam spent most of his time traveling, but they stayed in touch. The trip to the woods had only cemented their trust.
A huge chandelier hung over their heads, and the stair railing shone like it had been polished for days without stopping. There was one benefit to such an over-the-top house. Everything had a place. There wasn’t any clutter and the plush carpet silenced their steps.
Nothing moved as they climbed, but the steady thumping grew louder as they reached the top. Though he tried, he couldn’t place it. Not a weapon or any machine he recognized.
At the top, Joel stopped for a second to get his bearings. The master bedroom consisted of nearly a thousand square feet, more than the size of his last apartment, and sat to his right. He turned the corner and headed there. Cam followed right behind.
The door at the end of the hallway was open. Joel could make out something scattered all over the floor. Clothes, maybe. Papers, certainly. He knew there was a large sitting area in there in addition to the bedroom and bathroom.
He and Cam took positions on either side of the wide hall and stalked with their backs against the walls and their guns aimed in that doorway. Joel caught Cam’s attention and glanced down at the floor. Cam looked, then shrugged. Whatever was going on in there stumped both of them.
The floorboard under Cam’s feet creaked and the thumping cut off. That meant the end to their covert advance. One more step and the boom of gunfire started.
Both Joel and Cam dropped down. Joel crawled on his elbows, shooting as he went. Cam took the higher position but still kept low.
They pushed forward, emptying their magazines as they went. Bullets flew and artwork crashed off the walls. Something made of glass exploded near Joel’s head and he ducked to avoid the shards.
Plaster from the walls kicked up and curtains bounced and shredded. Joel could hear crashing and shattering as their bullets slammed into all the furniture in the bedroom.
A mix of dust and smoke swirled around them. He sniffed for gas, because that seemed to be Charlie’s specialty, but only smelled the sulfuric scent of gunfire.
A noise registered over all the banging. They stood just outside the doorway when Joel signaled for Cam to cease firing. It wasn’t hard to make out the yelling now. Loud and male and near hysterical.
“No, stop!” The chant came from inside the room.
Joel didn’t buy the surrender. He braced his body against the doorframe. “Come out.”
“I can’t.” The thumping came in quick succession that time.
Cam asked what it was, but Joel didn’t have a clue. “Why can’t you walk out there?”
“I’m down.”
Cam shook his head. Joel didn’t believe it either, but a standoff in a shredded hallway wasn’t his idea of a smart use of time. Not when they only heard one voice and there should be two.
“It’s Tony Prather.” Davis had voice recognition software on his side and a pretty good memory. If he said this was their guy, Joel believed him.
“Where’s Charlie?”
“Gone.”
A soft thud, almost hidden, sounded behind them. Cam spun around but dropped the weapon again when Connor’s head popped up at the top of the stairwell.
“Who’s in there?” he asked.
Joel repeated what he knew. “Tony.”
Connor stepped around the worst of the debris, but small piles crunched under his feet. “I was in the office when I heard the shots.”