Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker Off the Books #4) - Nicole Edwards Page 0,93

twenty feet or so, there was a trio of pylons holding things up above. What had once been a three-story building appeared to have been reduced to two if the crumbling and rotting piles of wood and concrete were any indication. Above him, the holes left behind from the falling debris.

The main floor was littered with old wooden pallets and a few large blue barrels. Whether or not anything was in them was a good question, but Reese decided it wasn’t worth finding out.

He made his way through, weaving between the piles of rubble and doing his best to keep his noise to a minimum. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the south-end staircase that he heard voices.

Reese keyed his mic, said, “Sounds like two males in the south end of the second floor.”

“Ten four,” Brantley responded, his voice coming in clear through his earpiece. “Movin’ your way.”

Holding until Brantley and Charlie joined him, Reese attempted to hear what the men were saying. Every now and then he’d catch a word, but nothing that made much sense. If the raised voices were anything to go by, they were arguing.

A loud crash sounded from behind him, and everything came to a standstill.

“What was that?” came a muted shout.

Reese peered back, saw Brantley looking behind him, Charlie’s expression one of apology.

Didn’t look like they had the element of surprise on their side anymore.

*

Brantley winced when Charlie hit the board that had been propped up against a rail. He hadn’t thought to warn her it was dangling precariously over the edge. Or it had been. Now it was on the ground, having made enough noise to alert the pair that someone was there.

“I’ll kill him!” came the angry shout from the second floor.

Brantley continued up the stairs, stopping behind Reese.

“Come through that door and I put a bullet in his head!”

“You did this, you know,” Brantley muttered to Reese.

Reese’s what the fuck expression was priceless.

“You said it was too easy.”

Brantley held back a smile when Reese rolled his eyes.

“Marcus, it’s over,” Brantley shouted up to him. “The building’s surrounded. You need—”

The gun’s report was loud in the metal building, the first bullet slamming into the wood door that separated them from the room the two men were holed up in, no more than ten feet above them.

The second bullet whizzed past, way too close for comfort.

“Fuck,” Brantley bit out, urging Charlie back down the stairs. They were sitting ducks out here in the open.

Stealth no longer a concern, the three of them hightailed it back to the main floor, taking cover—pathetic as it was—behind a row of blue plastic barrels.

“Any suggestions on what to do now?” Reese snapped, gun aimed at the second floor.

Brantley glanced around, looking for options. That had been their best chance of getting to the men without being seen or heard. Now that they knew they were here, Brantley feared Marcus was going to do something stupid.

“You better have my goddamn money!” Marcus shouted. “Otherwise, I kill this idiot.”

“You don’t want to hurt him, Marcus. He’s leverage,” Charlie called out.

Nice thinking.

Brantley glanced over, nodded for her to continue.

“He’s your ticket out of here,” she added. “Our job is to get him home safely. Only you can help us do that. Which means you hold all the cards.”

“I do, don’t I?” he shouted back, sounding relieved.

“Keep him talkin’,” Brantley told Charlie, motioning for Reese to move with him.

While they shouted back and forth, Brantley moved to the staircase at the other end of the building. It took longer than he would’ve preferred but moving slowly was necessary. The second floor had a direct line of sight to the area, which meant they were open and exposed if Marcus decided to open fire.

They stuck to the shadows until they reached their destination, then paused to come up with a plan.

Marcus was in the process of shouting a list of demands when suddenly he stopped.

Well, hell. That whole this is too easy bullshit just went right out the window.

Brantley had enough time to look up and realize they’d been spotted. A second later, a shot rang out, sending both of them diving for cover. As he was about to crouch behind a concrete pylon, a blaze of heat speared his right shoulder, the impact powerful enough to have him pitching forward, a foot shy of being clear.

Another shot hit a foot from his head, then another a few inches to the left of that.

Brantley gritted his teeth, fought the blinding pain,