Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,88

distract guys coming from different quarters if he needed to.

“I’ll even promise to make it painless for him in the—”

August pulled the goggles and mask away and stood up, one hand holding Ricardo’s gun, the other holding his own remote. Victor brightened as soon as he saw him. “Auggie! There you are, in the blood-drenched flesh. I assume most of that is Carlisle’s.”

“I didn’t ask his name before I cored him like an apple,” August replied, slowly stepping backward toward the SUV with Ricardo in it. He could see at least two men in the doorway behind Victor, following him with their weapons.

“No, why would you? Carlisle was good at hand to hand combat, though. I’m surprised you got the drop on him the way you did.”

“Life is full of surprises,” August said with a smirk. “Speaking of, if you want to keep your garage in one piece, not to mention the guys who are working for you, you’ll back your people off. I’ve set some explosives of my own, and I’m way more ready to set them off than you are to blow us all up, I’m thinking.”

“Ah.” Victor nodded thoughtfully. “An impasse. But impasses can end without bloodshed if we’re both willing to compromise.”

“On what? What do you even want with me?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” Victor gestured at August. “You’ve both been hired to do jobs for me twice now, and you’ve failed to do them.”

“Yeah?” August asked dryly. “Was that second one to kill each other because neither of us would do your dirty work the first time around?”

Victor tapped the side of his nose and grinned. “My, my, Mr. Mason. You are so much smarter than people give you credit for. Here I thought you were just a spoiled brat with too many guns.”

August almost took the bait. Almost. But a low groan from the back of the SUV reminded him he didn’t have time to fuck around, and that there was a lot more on the line right now than his ego.

Before he could speak, Victor said, “What is it you want, August? A new car?” He waved a hand around. “Take your pick! An ally?” He gestured at himself. “I rarely hold grudges.”

August shook his head. “To be honest, all I really want right now is to cut every tendon in your body until you’re slumped on the ground like a rag doll and listen to you scream, but I’ll take seeing you blown to bits instead.”

“Hmm.” Victor’s smile was completely gone now. “So much for an impasse. And so much for your threat—you haven’t had enough time in here to set more than a few charges, and if I know Ricardo, he was carrying small ones. He hates collateral damage, you see. Whereas I?” He tilted his head toward the C-4. “I don’t give a fuck. So let’s make this simple, August. Give me Torralba and take ten seconds to run before my men start shooting at you, or try something with me and see what it gets you. You think you can outrun the explosion that will go off when you shoot me? Think again! You can’t—”

Bang.

Instantly, a small red hole appeared just off center in Victor’s forehead. August ducked, expecting a wave of concussion and fire and hopefully a quick death…but there was nothing but a thud.

“Get…in…the fucking…car.”

Holy shit, that was Ricardo! August shimmied around the other side of the SUV into the driver’s seat, slamming the key into the ignition before he let himself look into the back seat. Ricardo was just able to get the side door shut, leaning on it and breathing like he’d just run a mile in under a minute.

“You assholes both talk…too much,” he gasped.

“And you are a scary motherfucker,” August said in complete wonder. “Remind me never to play poker with you. Ever. Unless it’s strip poker, then I’m totally in—”

“August.”

“Right, right.” He could hear shouts, gunfire—the passenger side of the windshield spidered into a thousand cracks as a bullet flew through it, almost blinding August. “Here we go.” He put them in reverse, revved the engine hard, and rammed the garage door with the back of their car. It crashed and clattered and nearly held onto them, but August forced the issue until the tires squealed and at last they broke through, driving out into a narrow gravel trail surrounded on three sides by lawn. More of Victor’s guys were shooting at them.

“Time for that distraction,” he muttered, and pressed all of the