Man of the House(98)

“Yeah, man, seriously.” He gave one of his guys a look. “Fucking asshole forgot to get it inspected.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Glad you made it at least.”

“You got what we came for?”

“We do. You have the money?”

Carlos gestured at the guy next to him, who was carrying a briefcase. He popped it open.

It was full of cash.

“Good,” I said. I gestured to Rafa. He walked forward with a duffel bag and tossed it over to Carlos.

Carlos caught it and opened it up. He pulled out a kilo brick and smiled. “This is why I like you fucking white boys,” he said. “No jokes, just the shit in a bag.”

“Money,” I said.

Carlos nodded to his boy, and the guy slid the briefcase over to us.

I stopped it with my foot and then picked it up. I checked it quickly, and it looked to be all there.

“If you’re short, we know where to find you,” I said.

“Same to you, man.”

I smiled at him. “Nice doing business with you.”

Carlos nodded, turned, and the whole group got back into their shitty fucking cars. They pulled out and left.

“Easy,” Rafa said.

“Yeah, it was.”

I had a strange feeling in my gut, but it was over. We had the cash, and the Russians hadn’t made a move. I gestured at the guys and they got back into the cars.

We pulled out, heading down the garage. Our car was in the back, following the other two.

That feeling kept nagging at me. Why had that been so easy? Even when we weren’t in a war, Carlos always made shit difficult. But this time he had been accommodating as hell.

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. We were done and we had the money. I glanced down at the briefcase at my feet.

The caravan got to the bottom of the garage and started to turn back out into the street. The first two glided out into the street, and we began to follow.

Then I heard the scream of wheels. I had enough time to look up before a truck smashed into the side of us.

I was rocketed forward but was saved by my seatbelt. One of the assholes in the backseat wasn’t so lucky, and he went flying forward, smashing his face into the front dash.

My ears were ringing and I felt completely dazed.

“Boss,” Rafa yelled.

There was the pop of gunfire. I watched Rafa pull out his weapon and start shooting. I was dazed, my head spinning. The other thug in the backseat pulled his weapon and began to fire as well.

“Vince!” Rafa yelled, getting out of the car.

I came back to myself in that moment.

The truck that had rammed us was a few feet away, and four men were spilling out of it, guns firing at the car. I scrambled over the body of the unconscious thug and rolled out Rafa’s door, putting our car between me and the guys coming at us.

I pulled my gun. The other thug crouched down at the one end of the car and began to fire back at the guys. I realized they were yelling in Russian, and it quickly became obvious what was happening.

They had ambushed us. They had attacked our car because they knew which car to go over. Fucking Carlos had sold us out to the Russians.

I glanced at the thug firing his gun and watched his head explode. He fell to the ground, not moving, his skull a twist of blood.

“Fuck,” Rafa yelled. Our two soldiers were down. I quickly got off a few shots, clipping one of the Russians in the leg. He dropped to the ground, but he wasn’t finished.

“We need the money,” I called to Rafa. “Cover me.”

“You fucking crazy?”

“We need it, Rafa.” I dove back into the car and started reaching over the body of the thug.

The Russians opened fire like crazy. Bullets slammed all around me, filling up the car with debris and explosions. I reached over the body and grabbed the handle of the briefcase, barely getting my fingers on it.

Rafa returned fire and managed to hit one of the Russians in the stomach. He dropped to the ground, bleeding and screaming curses. The other two split up, one going to the front of the car, the other toward the back.

I had to fall back as the guy up front shot at me through the windshield.

I dropped and rolled toward the back, bringing my gun up.

Just then, I heard the roar of another SUV. It was our guys, circling back. They screeched to a halt not far away, and the Russian up front brought his gun around to fire at them.

But too slowly. He was covered in bullets in a second from the guys in that car. They spilled out, running toward us, taking shots at the Russian in the back.

But he took off. He didn’t bother trying to fight a losing battle. He simply turned and ran.

Some of our guys went after him.

I leaned up against the car.

“You okay, boss?” Rafa asked.

“I’m good. You?”

“Fine.”