Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (24 page)

At precisely five in the morning, Lily crept across a roof top, squatting low as she moved. Kingsley was near the ledge, laying on his stomach on top of a green felt blanket. A scope was set up on a tripod in front of him and was pointed at the back of Stankovski's shop across the street.

“Precisely on time, well done, darling,” Kingsley chuckled, scooting back from view and sitting up. Lily and Marc joined him at the edge of the blanket.

“Have you been here the whole time?” she asked, swinging her backpack around and setting it in her lap.

“I set up right when I got here.”

“Tell us what all you learned.”

“Alright. I know for a fact that Roksana Stankovski is in the building – last I saw her, she was still in the penthouse. Best I can tell, there are four bodyguards in the building. There was a shift change around midnight, with four exiting as four entered. And best of all, the
pièce de résistance
, the one and only Anatoly Stankovski arrived around two this morning,” Kingsley had a small notebook in his hand and flipped the pages as he talked. “He was dropped off by a black town car and escorted to the door by two very large gentlemen. They did not enter the building, and are still posted up outside the door, as you can see. So all in all, six people in the building, two on the exterior.”

Lily crawled over to the scope and looked through it. It was aimed at the top floor, but all the drapes were pulled shut. She carefully tilted it down, and sure enough, two very big, very scary looking men were standing outside the door.

“We should get moving.”

Marc was whispering, but his voice sounded loud to Lily. She looked over her shoulder, and both men were staring at her. Kingsley finally smiled.

“It's your show, darling.”

“Your plan,” Marc added.

My show, my plan … my funeral …

“Alright,” Lily made her way back so she was sitting in front of them. “We need to get rid of the guards out front. Stealth – don't want to give them time to warn their buddies inside. But no unnecessary killing. Save your bullets and save time, it's not worth it. We don't need to leave a bigger body count than necessary.”

“You're no fun,” Kingsley sighed.

“Not really. I'll go in first, I'm the quietest -” she began again.

“Says fucking who!?” Marc argued.

“
Shut up
. I'm also the smallest and lightest, it'll be easy for me. I'll make sure it's clear, then let you in the door. I want a surge straight to that fourth floor, no fucking around, alright? If there's guards, neutralize them, but don't look for them. I want to be in that penthouse as soon as possible,” she finished.

“Sounds easy, love. Walk in the park. We'll be done in time for breakfast,” Kingsley assured her. She took a deep breath.

“If you say so.”

While Kingsley began rolling up his blanket and putting away the scope, Marc grabbed her arm.

“Hey,” his voice was soft. “He's not lying. It's an easy in-out job. Minimal security. Remember that boarding house? You can do this.”

“I know. Let's get it over with.”

They made their way off the roof. Once down, Kingsley produced a street map of the area. Lily would wait at the end of the side street they were currently standing in, facing Stankovski's store. Marc and Kingsley would go around to the end of the block, then come down the alley that ran between the buildings. They nodded silently at each other, then took off in separate directions.

Lily got in view of Stankovski's back door, then stepped back. She took her backpack off and began digging her supplies out of it. A knife that slipped into a sheath that was strapped to her calf. Then she put on a thin black holster, which had compartments and sat flat against her back. They were filled with magazines for the assault rifle she'd grabbed, which she slung across her back next.

And of course, her Glock 22. Tucked safely into a holster at the small of her back. Loaded, with a bullet in the chamber. Ready for use.

She heard Kingsley and Marc before she saw them, and she peeked around the corner. They were stumbling down the alley, laughing loudly. She was flabbergasted at first. What were they thinking!? What had happened to stealth!? The closer they got, the louder they got. Marc stumbled at one point, and Kingsley wrapped an arm around his shoulders to help him up.

Are they … they look totally fucking drunk!

It was dark in the alley, and hard to see them. Kingsley was wearing all black, but that wasn't such an unusual thing. Marc had on a jacket, zipped up to his chin, making him look bulky, though really it was because of the bullet proof vest she knew he had on underneath everything. So just a couple drunks, stumbling down an alley, dressed warm for the cold New York night.

It happened so fast, she was actually a little amazed. Marc stumbled again and actually dropped to his knee, knocking into one of the guards. Russian words were yelled, and the big men stepped up to the seemingly drunk guys. The one bent and grabbed Marc by the arm, jerking him around. Kingsley used the distraction to his advantage and lunged forward, wrapping his arm around the other guard's neck.

Meanwhile, Marc snapped upright, slamming the back of his head into the other man's nose. While the Russian cried out and lifted his hands to his face, Marc grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed his forehead into his knee. Then he leaned over him and hit him enough times to ensure he wouldn't get up. Kingsley, on the other hand, simply held his opponent in a chokehold till the other man passed out.

“Not exactly how I would've done it,” Lily whispered, jogging over to them.

“Whatever gets the job done, darling,” Kingsley breathed, dragging his guy to the alley she had just come from. She grabbed the man's feet and helped, leaving Marc to carry his own bad guy.

They tied the gentlemen up and gagged them, then buried them underneath a pile of trash. Then they hurried back to the shop.

“Locked,” Marc reported, twisting the knob on the backdoor.

There was a second door, but they knew it led into a store room, which would lead to
another
locked door. Where the fire escape should've been, there were just a couple random iron bars, skeletons of a walkway and ladder system. Stankovski must have been paranoid enough to have it removed. Lily stared at some of the bars, then stared at the door in front of them. There was a square window above it. Small, for ventilation. But just big enough, she thought.

“That window, above it. I can get through,” she said, working her fingers over the strap across her chest. She pulled it tight, making the rifle lay flush against her back.

“I can pick those locks,” Kingsley said, and moved to get on his knees.

“No good, look,” Lily said, pointing at a set of bolts on either side of the door. “Remember that job in Tijuana? Same set up.”

“They've got a lock bar in place,” he growled. She nodded. They could pick all the locks, and it wouldn't make a difference, with a heavy duty bar going across the whole width of the door.

“There's some of the walkway, from where the fire escape used to be, see? I can grab onto that edge, swing through that window above the door. I'll get in quick and let you guys in – Kingsley, disable any alarms. You'll have twenty seconds, at most,” she told him.

“I can do it in less than ten.”

She paused for a moment. She was standing between them, with all three of them facing the building. She looked at Kingsley, so dashing in his all black gear. All their time together, and she'd never asked him why he chose to dress that way. Then she looked down at herself. She'd come a long way since Africa. She was wearing lyrca running pants and a matching sleeveless top, also all black, and basically painted on her body, helping with ease of movement and getting to her weapons.

Then she looked at Marc. He'd gotten rid of the jacket and was wearing a maroon t-shirt, a bullet proof vest, and Carhart pants. He had thigh and side holsters, even a gun attached to his back. She smiled and realized he looked
exactly
the same as that fateful night in Africa, when he'd stolen the diamonds.

“Thank you,” she blurted out, and both men turned to look at her.

“C'mon, don't get all mushy now, we have a -” Kingsley started, but she cut him off and yanked him down to her height, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him.

“You didn't have to do any of this. Any of it at all. The diamonds, Stankovski, me. It's not a job, you didn't have to do this. None of it,” she whispered.

“You are by far the best job I've ever had, darling,” he whispered back. She managed a laugh.

“You're getting a shitty return on your investment.”

“Don't I know it.”

She turned to Marc and pulled him into a hug as well.

“This is ridiculous, you know we're going to be done and gone in like thirty minutes. Like I said, easy,” he growled, but his arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Marcelle,” she exhaled his name, barely above a breath. “When has
anything
with us ever been easy? No matter what has happened between us, or what is going to happen …
thank you
.”

He pulled away enough to kiss her soundly, and then he stared at her for a second, his hands resting on her hips. Then he nodded and pushed her back.

“Let's get to work.”

Kingsley laced his fingers together and held out his hands again, and Lily stepped into his palms. He tossed her up and she caught the bar that was directly above them. She let out a couple deep breaths, then glanced down at her boys. Kingsley gave her a thumbs up. Marc just glared at her.

“Now or never, sweetheart.
Move your ass.
”

She swung back and forth, building up momentum. When she was almost parallel to the street, she wrenched herself forward, then let go of the bar. She crashed through the window, feet first, and immediately tightened up before landing on her feet in a crouch. Glass shards rained down on her for a second, and she quickly took stock of the almost entirely dark room around her.

Oh shit
.

She barely managed to tuck and roll to the side before loud gunfire opened up in front of her. All her months of training kicked in and she didn't even think about it. While her shadowy opponent unloaded his clip at the spot she used to be in, she sprang forward and ran at him from the side. Before he even knew she was there, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side. There was a sickening cracking sound, then he was shrieking. His gun fell to the floor and she punched him in the throat. His shrieking turned to gagging and he dropped to his knees. She kicked him in the face and when he fell over, he wasn't making any sound at all.

Fuck fuck fuck! How many seconds!?

She ran back to the door. Both men were shouting outside, and she could see that Kingsley was attempting to pull himself up through the window.

“I'm alright!” she yelled, sliding the bar out of its lock and opening the door. Kingsley dropped to his feet and rushed inside.

“How many were there?” he asked, a gun materializing in his hand.

“Worry about the alarm!” she hissed.

He cursed and hurried out onto the sales floor. The alarm was on a wall halfway into the shop. While he dropped to his knees and went to work, Marc went up to the incapacitated bodyguard.

“Good job, sweetheart. Very good,” he mumbled, examining the man's broken wrist.

“They definitely know we're here now,” she sighed.

“Hey, never easy, right?” Marc chuckled.

“We're clear!” Kingsley shouted.

They disabled the elevator, then Kingsley stood guard at the entrance to the stairs while Marc and Lily made their way up the elevator shaft. Once they'd ascertained that the second floor was clear, they gave him the signal to come up after them.

“How do you want to do this?” Marc asked. Lily chewed on her lip while they stared at the staircase to the third floor.

“There's no good way. There's all those offices on the third floor, perfect for them to hide from us. I really don't want to fuck with it. This time Kingsley and I will go up the elevator, you wait at the stairs.”

They were in for a surprise – there were cubicles, not offices, though that didn't really make it too much better. They still had to search them all, eliminate the risk of someone sneaking up on their backs. It was a pain in the ass, and they had to crouch as they made their way down the middle of the room. They used British military field signals; when they'd first gone to Phuket, that had been Kingsley's first lesson. She'd had them drilled into her head every day for two months straight, and they'd come in very handy. She and Kingsley really could speak without using a single word.

She almost thought they'd lucked out, that the third floor would be clear, as well. Having all the remaining guards in one place would certainly make life easier. But of course, easy was the magic word, and once she'd thought it, everything went to hell.

She was turning to check one of the cubicles when someone grabbed the barrel of her rifle. Immediately, she started firing. Her opponent screamed as his hand was burned, but he had yanked forward at the same time she'd pulled the trigger, and she was dragged into the small space.