live upstairs, four down. Bridges and Junk are both downstairs. Preacher caught a glimpse of them. He could have taken out Junk a couple of times but figured you would prefer to do that.”
“He’s right. Anyone else is fair game. What about Boone?”
“He’s upstairs in the room with the big balcony overlooking the backyard. Preacher kept him away from the window. He aimed at Zane, not at anyone else. Definitely wanted to take out your son.”
They were moving into the danger zone, so Steele halted and then signaled that he was going up. The balcony overlooking the backyard was very long and deep, most likely associated with the master bedroom. It curved in places, which was helpful, because the twisting, dark railing made it harder for someone looking through the French doors to see now that the glass was shattered.
Steele went up the side of the building fast, using his strength. Boone would think he was safe because he was up high and the outside walls, although brick, didn’t seem as if they could be climbed without equipment. Those very shallow cracks between bricks were all Steele and Maestro needed to make their way up.
Steele waited until Maestro was in position. Maestro had climbed the building from the opposite side of the master bedroom. They ignored the gunfire erupting from various spots around the house. All that mattered was to do their job. They would take out all shooters on the top floor and clear every room so when they went downstairs in search of Bridges and Junk, no one would be left behind to retaliate.
Steele crept into position, going high, up on the overhanging roof. It protected anyone on the balcony from sun or rain as they sat outside enjoying the view of the lake. He crept along the edge of the roof until he was positioned directly over the spot where he was certain Boone was crouched behind something solid he’d overturned.
Steele lowered his head until he could see into the room. Boone had crawled away from the window and was dragging a very large end table over to the window. He placed it behind him, making certain that it was set up to protect his back from anyone who might try to sneak up on him.
While Steele watched, Boone stabbed his finger onto a button on the landline. “Bridges. Where the fuck are you?”
“We’re taking heavy fire down here, Boone,” Bridges told his father. “That fucking Steele. I told you about him and his friends. He’s here. He got the kid out of here. Breezy must be close by.”
“Send someone to pick her and the kid up. You have them and he’s going to back off.”
There was silence. Bridges cleared his throat. “Not Steele, Boone. It won’t matter. He won’t stop. None of these men ever stop.”
The voice was tinny coming from the phone’s speaker through the intercom system.
“Then you give that little bastard to me. I’ll skin him alive in front of the man. That doesn’t work, I’ll do the same to Breezy.”
“Boone.” Bridges’s voice was cautionary.
That surprised Steele and told him something at the same time. Bridges was afraid of his father. He believed the man was capable of doing just what he threatened.
“Kill the son of a bitch then, just do it fast.” Boone slammed down the receiver, picked up his gun and once more moved into position, pressing close to the window, his body behind the heavy table, the barrel of his gun on top of the edge to steady his hand.
Steele maneuvered along the roof until he was just overhead of where Boone had set up his fortress. Once in place, Steele signaled to Maestro to let him know he was ready. In position. Need him to turn toward you.
On it. Maestro slid his steel-toed boot along the outside of the glass. A high-pitched shriek erupted from the glass. He kicked hard at the last second, breaking more of the glass out of the window.
Steele swung down, driving right into Boone’s face as the man lifted up, gun in hand, slightly turned in order to shoot Maestro. Steele’s motorcycle boots slammed into Boone’s nose and both eyes so hard there was a crunch of bones as the nose was crushed. He’d targeted the orbital socket, deliberately fracturing both the upper and lower. He swung on into the room, letting go with his fingertips, following Boone down to the ground, and kicking his gun away.
Boone tried to sit up and Steele kicked him