The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(78)

“Sorry, Alejandro,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But Cruz is going to give you a hand.”

Alejandro hesitated, and then shoved his gun into the wet leather holster on his hip. “Let’s get it over with,” he grumbled. We opened the door wide enough to let him and Cruz slip through, keeping low to their stomachs. I watched as they crept down toward the doors, using the shadow to mask their approach. Cruz gripped Alejandro and rose, and within seconds, Alejandro had rolled over the banister and dropped onto the stairs with barely a sound. Cruz scrambled up behind him, and the two crept up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

“Next two,” I whispered, allowing Harry and Marna to go through the door. I watched them both as they slipped over the banister and onto the steps. There was a tense moment when I heard Harry’s shoe slap on the ground, but the guards continued to watch the street, their backs to us.

April, Carl, and I went last. I covered Carl while he helped April up, and then climbed up after her, using the banister as a handhold and the steps, appropriately, as a foothold. I kept my gun in my hand as I climbed, rolling over the thin banister and onto my hands and toes on the stairs. I moved up them quickly, passing through the red light that illuminated a section of them and slipping onto the next landing.

Alejandro helped me up, and I noticed a pair of legs sticking out of the doorframe just behind his left shoulder, illuminated by candles placed strategically around the hallway. The man on the floor was slowly being dragged deeper in. “There was a guard. Cruz shot him. Harry and Marna are checking the apartments.”

The feet disappeared completely into the doorway, and then Cruz stepped out. He wiped his fingers on his chest and pulled the door closed. “That room is filled with ammunition,” he whispered as soon as he noticed me watching him. “We should stock up if we can.”

“We think this floor is being used as a warehouse,” whispered Marna from behind me, and I turned to stare at her as she and Harry approached, her gun out but pointed at the floor. “There’s a ton of supplies in each apartment, food, water… There’s an entire room filled with toilet paper.”

“So stupid,” muttered Harry.

Alejandro huffed, his beard twitching. “You kidding, boyo? If it were the end of the world, I’d trade the lot of you for a double-ply roll.”

I managed to keep from laughing. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. “Not the place,” I said gruffly. “If this floor is clear, then let’s get to the next floor. Cruz, take point.”

The dark-haired man nodded, and moved past me to the set of stairs above the ones we’d just climbed. I followed him closely, my gun back in my hand. The landing at the top was clear—at least from our angle—but I remained vigilant as we crept up the stairs.

Cruz threw up a hand across my chest, and I froze. He craned his neck, then held up one finger, indicating one guard. I gave him a thumbs-up, and then he sprang into motion, sprinting up the stairs, not bothering to silence his steps anymore. I followed at his heels, keeping my gun trained on the area just left of the landing as it came into view. I fired at the leg I saw a second later, the shot puffing softly out in the quiet we’d established, and then again as the guard fell, hitting him just over his left eye. Continuing up the stairs, I kept my gun trained on the hall as I cleared the steps.

Cruz knelt next to the man on the floor, pulling his weapons from him. I motioned for Alejandro and Harry to check the rooms, while I pushed past Cruz, aiming for the corner room. I pushed open the door, and froze when my light cut across a long pair of bare feminine legs, bruised and dirty. I raised the light a little higher, revealing dirty underwear, a thin pink tank top, and finally a woman’s face, her hands raised up to block out the light. Her back was to the wall, and she was sitting on a thin, dirty mattress. I immediately lowered the light out of respect.

“Please,” she pleaded softly into the darkness. “Don’t.”

Every instinct in me was screaming for me to help that woman. “Viggo?” said Harry from behind me, and I held up my hand.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I announced softly. “Wait.”

I stepped back and pulled the door closed, wishing I could block out the vision of her bruised arms and tangled, knotted hair. “Viggo,” Harry said, “there are—”

“Women on this floor,” I finished for him, and he nodded, his face pale. I felt a seething anger come across me, settling into my bones and muscles, disguised as calm—the heavy calm that promised death. It gave me a clarity of purpose, a vision of a future that would make the Porteque gang suffer for what they were doing. “This ends now. I go first, then Cruz. April, you bring up the rear.”

The middle-aged woman nodded, the freckles spread liberally across her cheeks and nose bright in contrast with her pale skin, but her eyes held a hard edge in them. I could tell she was feeling the same anger.

I moved forward, my pistol in my hand. Heading up the stairwell, I saw a man’s bald head come into view. His eyes widened as he saw me, his mouth opening to warn the others, but I pointed and pulled the trigger, ending his warning before he could even draw breath. Red spattered on the wall behind him, and I kept moving. I heard something drop in the hall to the left, but I kept my eye on the partially open door in the corner and the muzzle flashes coming from it. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.