Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(8)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Later!” He shoved with one foot and took the board out into the open, directly in a path to intercept the two men.

He glanced up as if seeing them for the first time and deliberately did a perfect varial flip, turning the board 180 degrees, and then landed back on the board and kept going. It was a fairly easy trick, but showy. The men turned toward him, but he could see they were really watching Jaimie’s building and looking up at the rooftops, buying his kid act.

As he approached the two men, they visibly went on alert, one sliding his hand inside his coat. “Get out of here, kid,” the one with the gun growled. The other spat on the ground.

Javier did what any self-respecting teen would do. He flashed a cocky grin, pushed hard with his foot, sliding back in preparation for a back-side heel flip. He crouched down, popped the board up, kicking out his heel and starting a 180 turn, but he failed to land it, stumbling off the board and almost plowing right into the two men. He spread his arms for balance. The skateboard flew into the air, striking the first man right in the center of his chest, driving him backward. The second man cursed as Javier’s body slammed into him. The tiny sliver of steel in the center of Javier’s palm slammed deep into the jugular vein. The man coughed, reaching up toward his throat as Javier’s tackle carried them both toward the ground.

Javier turned as he fell, flipping his knife underhanded at the second man as he half rose. The blade buried to the hilt in the man’s throat. He moved fast, even as the first man choked and gagged, already dying. Dragging the two bodies back into the shadows, he moved quickly across the open space, using the skateboard for speed.

Jamming his finger on the button that rang her doorbell, he prayed Jaimie would buzz him through without any questions.

“Come on, Jaimie, let me in,” Javier demanded, trying not to feel the itch between his shoulder blades where a big bull’s-eye seemed to be painted on his back.

The locks disengaged and he shoved the door open and all but fell inside, dragging his MP7 free as he crouched low and crawled his way to the windows to peer outside.

She’d let him in too fast—she’d known he was coming. Jaimie always knew.

I’m in, Mack. We need a cleaner for the two pieces of garbage I left just inside the alley outside of Jaimie’s door.

Jaimie has to be the target. Gideon, watch this rat trap, Mack instructed the others. The rest of you, pull back and make your way through the streets in standard search. Find them. Take them out quietly.

Javier wired the doors and windows as quickly as he could. I’ve got this place rigged, Mack. Do not approach without one of us letting you in.

Mack’s breath of relief was audible and made Javier smile. Keep her undercover, he advised.

You got it, Top, Javier promised.

Yeah, Mack said. Just like you were careful and avoided engagement. Cleaners, my ass. I told you to be careful.

I don’t have a scratch on me. He lowered his voice even more. Jaimie’s coming down the stairs. I want to keep her on the third floor, boss.

We’re working our way to you, doing a thorough sweep.

Javier knew how nerve-wracking a thorough sweep was, moving through enemy territory with civilians in the battlefield. He gave a silent salute toward his team and hurried to intercept Jaimie. “I’m coming up to you, Jaimie. Give me a couple of minutes.”

“Javier? What are you doing? Is Mack okay? Did things go wrong?” There was anxiety in her voice. The lights suddenly blazed through the room.

He realized immediately she thought he was coming to tell her Mack was hurt.

“No, no, babe, Mack’s fine. Everyone’s good. Don’t turn on the lights. Get them off.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and the lights went off again, plunging the first story into darkness. He heard rustling as she sank down at the top of the stairs.

“Javier?”

There was the smallest of quivers in her voice and he felt a reaction in the pit of his stomach. Either of the girls could do that to any of them. Jaimie and Rhianna. The family revolved around the two girls. He didn’t want to think about Rhianna, off doing God knew what undercover in some foreign country.

“For a minute I thought . . .” She trailed off, sounding very vulnerable.

“I know. He’s fine. Everyone is. Just checking on you. You know how Mack worries.”

“Do I?” Jaimie sounded sad now. “I haven’t heard from him for two years. I don’t think he worries all that much, Javier. But then, I’m all grown up and maybe don’t need it anymore.”

Working fast in the dark, he strung more explosives along the windows, wrapping the warehouse so that anyone trying to get in was going to have a nasty surprise. “Go on upstairs and make us a cup of tea. I’ll be right there,” Javier suggested.

“It’s three in the morning,” she pointed out. “What are you really doing here?”

“I told you. Mack worries.” He kept his eyes moving around the windows, checking constantly to make certain Jaimie couldn’t be seen. The stairs were protected from sight, he noted with a sigh of relief.

“Things went to hell?”

That was Jaimie, straight to the point. “No, we’ve got it handled. Mack’s working his way back here with the rest of the crew. You might want to put on the coffee as well.”

She made a sound somewhere between annoyance and amusement. In the dark it made him smile. She had that effect on everyone but the boss. She had an entirely different effect on him. His smile stretched to a grin.

“I’m not letting everyone move in with me,” she announced.

“You gotta take that up with Mack,” Javier said. “I’m just the scout, testing the waters, clearing out the land mines, you know, leading the way.”

“Couldn’t you have led him off the end of the pier?”

Javier flashed her a grin. “Mack would retaliate, Jaimie. You’re safe enough. We keep an eye on him.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means go upstairs and make a pot a coffee. The boys are going to be cold.”

She sat there watching him. “You’re expecting company.”

He gave a casual shrug. “I always expect company. I’m paranoid. I even sleep with my pretty little gun.”

She laughed. “I believe that.” She started back up the stairs, hesitated, and half turned back toward him. “Javier, you aren’t going to blow up my house, are you? I don’t have insurance for that.”