43
When we stepped out of the Gray Ghost, my eyes were drawn to the sky. Stars blazed as if someone had scattered glitter across the black expanse of space. The full moon crested the tops of the trees. “Wow.”
“Aye, it’s a pretty sight. But we’ve got a job to do.”
We opened up the back of the truck and put on our vests and walkie-talkies. Conor racked the slide on his Glock. I snagged the shotgun loaded with beanbag rounds. My Ruger was on my right hip, my revolver on my ankle, in case things went badly.
“You ready?” Conor whispered.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go rock their world.”
In the silver moonlight, I spotted a wooden sign along the gravel walk leading up to the cabin. The name Delgado was carved on it. At least we had the right place. Last thing I wanted to do was burst in
