One last text with two minutes to go. “Linc says he’s ready and all the guys are accounted for,” I said. “Which just leaves us.”
Irene sighed. “I almost wish we were going in somewhere, you know? Helping out?”
“We have a more important mission,” I said.
She nodded, but said nothing. One minute to go. My hands were sweating. We were parked close enough to a couple different houses, including the one where Sasha would break in the back and lead the attack, that we should hear the gunshots.
If the shots came at all.
Irene reached out and grabbed my hand. Her palms were hot and sweaty with nerves. I squeezed her fingers.
“Time,” I said.
The night was silent. Nothing nearby, nothing in the distance. Irene stared at me, skin going pale, mouth hanging open—
There was no way all the houses would fuck up at the same time. Unless the Healys figured out what was going on. Unless something worse happened—
Then a bang close by. Then another, and another. Gunshots blazing up the night, loud and everywhere. Irene squeezed me hard and leaned over. I pulled her against me and held her as the guns blazed wildly, firing in multiple different locations, some of them nearby, some of them far off. It sounded like a war zone, and it was a fucking war zone. These girls were fighting for their lives and their freedom.
A text buzzed in from Linc. “His place is secure,” I said. “Only four guys were inside, all dead.” Then another text from Vera. “The sisters are good. Six dead men, one injured girl.” The gunfire continued then slowly began to taper off. Texts blew up my phone. “Alvaro says they’re good, one girl dead, eight dead Healy men. Anna made it, one Healy guy got away, seven are dead, one girl is hurt pretty bad.”
“Sasha?” Irene whispered.
I shook my head. Nothing from Sasha yet. It was ten minutes after the attack started and I began firing off more texts. “Come on,” I said softly to myself.
Then my phone buzzed. “Sasha’s okay,” I said, relief flooding through me, and then another text came in. “And she spotted Ronan.” I started the engine.
“Our turn,” Irene said.
I drove fast toward Sasha’s place. Fortunately, she was nearby, and we were prepared for this. The plan hinged on being able to communicate with the girls while everything went down and I was shocked that everyone managed to send out messages when they were supposed to. If my crew hadn’t split up and managed each hit, watching over the girls then relaying the results, I doubted this would’ve worked so well.
But so far, only a few girls were dead. There’d probably be more before this was all through, and more injured on top of that, but it was a miracle there hadn’t been worse. And from what I could tell, there were twenty or more dead Healys.
That was massive. Absolutely massive.
I slammed on the brakes halfway down the black from Sasha’s place. Two cars were parked in the street out front. I jumped out and pulled my gun, and Irene came after me, lagging behind. I wished she’d stay in the car but I knew she couldn’t hide from this.
I approached the cars from the street, making sure to keep close to the curb. The driver of the first car didn’t see me and I managed to put a bullet in his head before he even turned his attention in my direction. The next guy tried to get his seatbelt off, but too slow—I killed him as he scrambled for a gun.
Inside was quiet and the door hung open.
I gestured at Irene to stay hidden as I moved up the stoop, gun raised.
Stairs on the left led up to the second floor. Blood was splattered on the wall and the railing, and a body was lying just head. Probably a Healy guy, shot while coming downstairs. I moved forward and into the living room, then pressed myself up against the wall.
Three men were crouched down behind an upturned table.
I came out of hiding. Their attention was focused on the other side of the room toward the kitchen. I guessed that was where Sasha and her girls were hiding.
I whistled once, sharp and high. The three men looked at me—
Ronan in the middle, his eyes wide.
I killed the man on his left. The man on his right raised his gun and I put a bullet in him before Ronan returned fire and forced me to fall back. I felt a shot graze against my arm, a burning, sharp pain like a wasp digging its stinger into my flesh.
“I thought you’d show up,” Ronan called. I heard him move to better cover. “I got your message, you know.”
“That was from Irene,” I said.
“That thief slut,” he said, spitting the words out.