the faces of whoever tries to take our girl.
“You know what we should be doing?” Fish asks.
“Recording an album, figuring out how to get Beacon out of his father’s will, or playing video games,” Mane answers. “Why did I sign up for this shit? I swear you said, ‘We will form a band.’ Not, ‘We will be working as—’ What are we? Some fancy look-a-like of a CIA-Interpol-FBI private agency with no retirement plan, dangerous working conditions, and a fucked up schedule.”
San laughs through the communicator.
His question is complicated.
We’ve been friends for a long time—since preschool. Grace’s mom likes to pair up people she thinks might have things in common, including music. One thing led to another, and we found ourselves learning martial arts with Mason Bradley. Several years later, here we are, working for him. I can’t say that we do this during our spare time because sometimes we play in specific venues to scout or work on a mission.
Mane is right. There are times when it is confusing to understand what we do—even for us. Are we musicians or agents?
We can be both. Our band is renowned worldwide. We love playing—just like we love working for The Organization. They shouldn’t complain about the working conditions. Today is a lot better than other missions.
“This reminds me of Moscow four years ago,” San says.
Well, this is a lot better than being in the middle of Red Square having a red laser pointed at my chest. Back then, I was the bait and not in charge of the team. Yet, I feel a lot more anxious. G’s safety is on the line. One mistake and…I don’t want to think about what could happen to her.
My heart picks up its pace when I spot a guy talking to Grace. She tosses her head and laughs. Then she tilts her body just a bit to the right.
“That’s the signal,” I remind them.
Sure enough, there are two more guys close by watching their conversation. A prickle climbs the back of my neck as she nods and walks willingly with him.
“Got a few shots of the four guys,” Lang says over the communicator.
“I only count three,” San, who is on the highest point of the area with a rifle, announces. He’s a trained sniper. “Where’s the other one, Lang?”
Lang sends a text with the pictures of the suspects. One of them is the guy walking beside Grace.
“He’s taking her to an alley. There’s a van parked there,” Lang alerts us.
Fuck, it’s taking all of my self-restraint not to run and stop the operation. It’s not because I don’t trust her. I do. I’m just irrational.
“We get them, we pursue them…what’s the deal?” asks Mane. He’s the closest to the van.
“Follow her lead,” I answer.
One of our drivers is ready to tail them if she decides to get in the van with them. I pray that she doesn’t do it. The last time this lady let someone kidnap her, it was a fucking challenge to rescue her. It’s not impossible, but I don’t want a repeat.
Grace stops right in front of the restaurant that’s next to the alleyway. The guy pushes her slightly. She steps back. He grabs her arm.
“Wrong move, buddy,” San mumbles. “I’ll shoot him if he tries something else.”
“He’s about to get his ass kicked,” I murmur when he pulls her.
She takes off one of her hair pins. She stabs him in the side. Then, with gracefulness, she twirls, lifts her left leg, and kicks him in the shoulder. Once her feet are back on the ground, she lands a short jab square on his nose. This woman loves to break noses. The guy drops to the floor.
“Okay, we have the other three guys making a run for it and leaving their man on the ground,” Lang alerts us.
“God, you have to stop talking so much,” Grace complains as she starts walking away from the scene. “The guy is down. I swear I barely touched him. There are two more inside the van. I’m not sure if they are the ones we’re looking for, but these guys are up to no good. I had time to toss a couple of knives to the tires. They can’t go anywhere.”
I text the team, assigning new duties for everyone. The police should be here to pick up the van and the guys in a few minutes.
“Everyone stays away from the scene. The cleaning crew is approaching. They’re taking him into custody,” I order.
“I can shoot the