The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(66)

“I always knew you were a more evolved male.”

I smirked. “Thanks.”

“Viggo, one of those fires I thought was stationary just started moving.”

The alarm in Violet’s voice stopped me short, and I pressed my fingertips together to activate my mic. “Where?”

“They’re on a perpendicular street, heading toward the same intersection you’re aiming for. They’re spreading out now. I count… maybe fifty people? They’re carrying things as well—weapons, most likely, but I can’t tell what kind. The torches are messing with my night vision.”

I looked around at the various alleys between the mangled apartment buildings on the street, not certain where each one led. “Give me options, Violet.”

“Silence Lane, fifty feet up from your position. Follow it to the cul-de-sac with the big building at the end. That offers the best strategic position if the mob approaches you.”

“Roger. Find me that alley, people.” I deactivated the link and moved forward, checking the alleys quickly.

Seconds later, Alejandro transmitted, “I’ve reached it.” I searched the street for him, spotting him waving a slow arm up ahead of me. Mags and I made a beeline for his position.

It was a small road, only wide enough for one vehicle at a time, and it had no sidewalks, the only border the tall twin walls of the building curving around to the right. I thinned my lips, whistling a high-pitched note. The pairs of people up ahead stopped and turned, and I pointed toward the lane, flashing the hand signal to move fast.

They began to move toward us. “Mags, Alejandro, get them inside and in position. I’ll make sure everyone gets off the road.”

Mags nodded and jogged ahead, moving deeper down the cobblestone lane, disappearing from my sight as it slowly curved around. I kept an eye on the intersection we’d been heading for, and began to notice the shadows start to move against the buildings, a soft red glow chasing them away.





23





Viggo





“Hurry,” I hissed, waving on two stragglers—Alicia, a refugee woman, and one of Mags’ men. They raced by me just as the red glow grew brighter still, and I saw the first person carrying a torch step out from behind the building at the corner into the intersection. I slowly stepped back into the small curve of the road, not wanting to risk catching the torchbearer’s attention, and then turned and trotted away more quickly. The walls of the buildings on either side of the lane were smoothly built and curved, continuing on for fifty feet. I kept my back pressed to the wall and moved silently as I began to hear the sound of feet, the crunching of incautious steps almost drowning out the low hum of talking.

Nearing the end of the cul-de-sac, the lane widened into a slab of pavement made for parking, but there were no cars—only wide, empty spaces before a simple gray building with white trim and a stylish glass front. A few feet beyond, a handful of steps led up into the concrete block structure, and I ran toward them, moving up and through the double glass doors into the hall inside. I moved deeper, slightly relieved to see Mags sitting on the right a few feet away, her back to an inner doorframe and her gun angled toward the street.

“We have line of sight to the street from this room,” she whispered, and I drew closer to her, peeking around the first doorframe in the hall to see members of our team kneeling or lying on the floor, their guns drawn and ready. My eyes did a double sweep of the room. It was an L-shaped reception area, with wide, cushioned furniture and coffee tables, a few desks pushed together to form a counter in the back. The entire building face was composed of glass looking into the street beyond. The room was upended, however, furniture displaced and scattered across the floor. I didn’t care how it had happened at this point. It provided many hiding positions for my team.

“All lights off, people,” I ordered softly into the gloom. “That will be the first thing that gives us away.” The room dimmed as the remaining flashlights clicked off. Then I moved to the other side of the door, deeper into the building, and stood over where Mags was sitting, her back against the frame. “Has anyone cleared the floor?”

Mags shook her head, and I pressed my fingers together. “Cad, Cruz?”

Cad, who was kneeling behind a chair, looked up at me and then scrambled over. Mags laid her legs flat while he crawled over her. Cruz was right behind him, abandoning his desk and sliding over on his elbows before crawling over to Mags. He didn’t say anything to her, something that, knowing Cruz, I was grateful for.

“Viggo, it’s hard to tell how many,” said Violet through the line, “but some of the group with the torches broke off and are heading toward you. It might just be two.”

I acknowledged and turned to Cad and Cruz.

“I need you two to start checking this floor. I’d hate for someone trapped behind us to get caught in the crossfire. Or try to kill us.”

“We’re on it,” Cruz whispered, moving toward the T-shaped junction at the end of the hall. Cad followed him, but I didn’t have time to watch him, as my eyes were trained on the orange flicker growing on the building wall across from us, under the light of the moon.

I went down to one knee, swinging the stock of my rifle up to my shoulder and sighting down at the lane beyond, where the people carrying torches would emerge. When they did, I moved my finger slightly away from the trigger, waiting, watching as a man and a woman came down the alley, torches held high, as if they were exploring rather than hunting. They were carrying weapons—the man had a bat dangling from one hand, while the woman brandished a kitchen knife.