Zeke searched Coen’s face for a reaction.
A twinge of a smile played on his lips. “I guess I value my life more than you do yours.”
“We’ll see about that. Why’d you look straight into my scope?” Zeke demanded.
His gaze rose to the warehouse rafters, and then settled on Zeke. “It’s the best vantage point for an invasion. I was trying to warn you, or whoever created the explosion that they were coming.”
“It could have been a rival gang.” Greer gasped.
She apparently found it impossible to keep her mouth closed. He’d like to put something between her lips to keep them busy, but that wouldn’t happen…not ever. Not after what her own flesh and blood had done to her.
“Their bomb would have killed people. Yours didn’t.” Coen pointed at Zeke.
“He has valid answers.” Greer tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go now?”
The bloke had all the right answers, yet another reason Zeke didn’t trust him. Derrick Coen was an opportunist. When he was honorably discharged for extremely dishonorable conduct he ran to US Elite. When US Elite left him in the lurch he ran into the Stas’s open arms. In short, he pledged loyalty to whoever kept him alive. Frivolous loyalty damaged more than an outright enemy.
Light filled the alleyway. The glow filtered in through the door no one had bothered to close. A car door slammed close enough that none of them dared whisper.
Zeke signaled for Greer to head for the car. She jogged on silent feet through the unfinished sofas and chairs, but stalled at large double doors. Her eyes and waving hand ushered them to follow. Coen did. Again Zeke signaled her to leave. Before waiting to see if she obeyed, he eased the door to its frame, secured the lock, and pressed his eye to the peep hole.
Two seconds passed. A guard with a rifle in his hands prowled into view. He stopped at the alcove and hiked the gun against the front of his shoulder. One tedious step at a time the Stas allegiant approached. Zeke snugged the barrel of his Glock to the door and breathed, slowly, steadily.
The knob wiggled under the guard’s hand. When it didn’t open he straightened and turned to leave. His steps halted. He pivoted back to the door. The oval shape of his faced elongated as it neared, taking him from arsehole to alien. He edged his eye to the peep hole for an eight count.
He backed out of the alcove, tossed his hands up, probably to the driver, and hollered a negative that hardly made it through the heavy door. Zeke hurried through the maze of furniture with little more than filtered moonlight to discern the path. The front door on the north side had been propped open. He ducked through it and sprinted across the street to the parking garage where he’d left his car, to where Greer waited with Coen…alone.
When he reached the well-lit structure he slowed to a casual walk. His heart hiked in his chest more now than it had when he’d been in danger of having an AK-103 pierce his belly button. Cars filled the lot near capacity, but no one idled about at one a.m. Not if they knew what was good for them.
Zeke took the north stairs, opposite the plant. He wanted to observe Coen from a distance. As expected Greer watched the south stairs, between her pacing the width of his car. She pinched her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger and swayed with each change in direction. The corners of Zeke’s mouth pitched skyward at her manic concern for him. He had to remind himself to watch the one he’d come to see.
Coen watched the door, but his gaze lingered on Greer far more. Whether on her shapely hips or the Glock holstered at her side he couldn’t tell. Though, neither sat well.
“Greer?” Coen said.
It jerked her attention from the door and stalled her pacing. “Yeah?”
The bastard closed the distance between them and cupped her pale cheeks. “I thought you were dead or worse.”
To hell with observing. Zeke moved from behind the truck he’d used for cover and walked
A twinge of a smile played on his lips. “I guess I value my life more than you do yours.”
“We’ll see about that. Why’d you look straight into my scope?” Zeke demanded.
His gaze rose to the warehouse rafters, and then settled on Zeke. “It’s the best vantage point for an invasion. I was trying to warn you, or whoever created the explosion that they were coming.”
“It could have been a rival gang.” Greer gasped.
She apparently found it impossible to keep her mouth closed. He’d like to put something between her lips to keep them busy, but that wouldn’t happen…not ever. Not after what her own flesh and blood had done to her.
“Their bomb would have killed people. Yours didn’t.” Coen pointed at Zeke.
“He has valid answers.” Greer tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go now?”
The bloke had all the right answers, yet another reason Zeke didn’t trust him. Derrick Coen was an opportunist. When he was honorably discharged for extremely dishonorable conduct he ran to US Elite. When US Elite left him in the lurch he ran into the Stas’s open arms. In short, he pledged loyalty to whoever kept him alive. Frivolous loyalty damaged more than an outright enemy.
Light filled the alleyway. The glow filtered in through the door no one had bothered to close. A car door slammed close enough that none of them dared whisper.
Zeke signaled for Greer to head for the car. She jogged on silent feet through the unfinished sofas and chairs, but stalled at large double doors. Her eyes and waving hand ushered them to follow. Coen did. Again Zeke signaled her to leave. Before waiting to see if she obeyed, he eased the door to its frame, secured the lock, and pressed his eye to the peep hole.
Two seconds passed. A guard with a rifle in his hands prowled into view. He stopped at the alcove and hiked the gun against the front of his shoulder. One tedious step at a time the Stas allegiant approached. Zeke snugged the barrel of his Glock to the door and breathed, slowly, steadily.
The knob wiggled under the guard’s hand. When it didn’t open he straightened and turned to leave. His steps halted. He pivoted back to the door. The oval shape of his faced elongated as it neared, taking him from arsehole to alien. He edged his eye to the peep hole for an eight count.
He backed out of the alcove, tossed his hands up, probably to the driver, and hollered a negative that hardly made it through the heavy door. Zeke hurried through the maze of furniture with little more than filtered moonlight to discern the path. The front door on the north side had been propped open. He ducked through it and sprinted across the street to the parking garage where he’d left his car, to where Greer waited with Coen…alone.
When he reached the well-lit structure he slowed to a casual walk. His heart hiked in his chest more now than it had when he’d been in danger of having an AK-103 pierce his belly button. Cars filled the lot near capacity, but no one idled about at one a.m. Not if they knew what was good for them.
Zeke took the north stairs, opposite the plant. He wanted to observe Coen from a distance. As expected Greer watched the south stairs, between her pacing the width of his car. She pinched her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger and swayed with each change in direction. The corners of Zeke’s mouth pitched skyward at her manic concern for him. He had to remind himself to watch the one he’d come to see.
Coen watched the door, but his gaze lingered on Greer far more. Whether on her shapely hips or the Glock holstered at her side he couldn’t tell. Though, neither sat well.
“Greer?” Coen said.
It jerked her attention from the door and stalled her pacing. “Yeah?”
The bastard closed the distance between them and cupped her pale cheeks. “I thought you were dead or worse.”
To hell with observing. Zeke moved from behind the truck he’d used for cover and walked
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