False Finder (22 page)

Chapter 23

Cora knew she didn’t have long to prepare as she watched the men on the street below her window. She had her back planted firmly against the wall, a gun in either hand at her side, as she glanced out, keeping out of sight in case someone looked up. Being seen was not something she wanted—at least not until it was on her terms.

Cora thought of leaving the flat to meet the two men who had kicked her door in on the stairs. They wouldn’t be expecting her to know about them, let alone confront them before they had even made it to her flat. She hoped she would be able to deal with them before they got to her. However, when she spotted that they already had their guns drawn and Kirby was sending the other man in ahead of him, she discarded the idea. Even if she got a shot in first, Kirby was right behind him and then there were the others to think about. If they heard the fight, they would barrel in behind him in support. She had 10 rounds in each magazine—she couldn’t risk getting into a firefight only to run out of ammunition. Cora was confident against two men, she could handle that…but more than that? Well, that risk was too great…and getting out of this alive was all about her swiftly analysing that risk.

The best idea she had was to hide, wait for them to come to her, separate them and attack. Her mind flicked to what she had learnt from an ex-special forces soldier her mum knew, the 3 Ss: stealth, silence, and silhouette. Becoming one with the night would be the key to surviving, and she knew that was the way to go. Cora thought to herself as she pressed herself away from the window, making sure to take the long route around so as not to cross directly in front of it, eliminating the chance of being caught in a cross-hair.

It was almost pitch black in the flat, the small window not allowing much moonlight into the room—something Cora was pleased about. Normally she hated how dark the room was, especially in the day, but finally it would be to her advantage—the shadows would disorientate them.

Moving quickly into her bedroom, her feet danced around the obstacles with practised and knowledgeable steps. She reached into the bottom drawer of her bedside table, fumbling in the dark until her hand came into contact with the item she required. Cold metal brushed her fingertips before they clasped around it and pulling out the one silencer she had for her 9mm Sig, she shut the drawer with her hip. She really hoped she only needed the one. If she had to fire both guns at the same time she was screwed, and not because it would mean both of the men were firing back at her. The noise from the gun that wasn’t silenced would arouse suspicion from people, and the last thing she wanted were nosy neighbours getting involved to benefit their own situations.

Everyone hated Rogan, fearful of being on the wrong side of him. So it was a common occurrence for ordinary individuals to aid Rogan’s men, their thinking being Rogan would be indebted for their help in bringing in some renegade. Of course it was a selfish action mostly. They believed they could survive or gain favour and assumed Rogan would then extract them from their desperate lives to something better.

What they underestimated was Rogan’s disdain for his men outside of his loyal trusted cohort that now included Nick. He viewed the lower ranks as dispensable and were used to do the majority of the killing, extortion, and torture with an endless supply to replace them. Any one of these soldiers had to show incredible skills to catch Rogan’s notice and win promotion. If they died, he believed it was their fault and deserved it. If they failed, well then they were as good as dead. Either way they lost out. The person they were trying to capture gets given up against their will, and then the nosy person who thought it was their business to get involved gets a life time contract and no gratitude. They walk straight into Rogan’s and never leave.

No one wins—except Rogan.

Attaching the silencer as she moved back through the flat, Cora made her way towards the front door. She couldn’t predict how they were going to enter but there was no way she was going to unlock it with them stood on the other side. That would be like she was asking to get shot and it would give her no time to hide or prepare. So, unlatching the door she left it open. It would only take a gentle push to reveal her empty and dark flat. Cora thought of hiding behind it so she could threaten anyone who entered but when that left her exposed to anything she failed to stop, she decided against it. It was two on one after all.

Instead, Cora moved into the darkest corner she could find that had the front door in view so she would be able to see their silhouettes. Crouching down so her knees were pressed tightly against her chest, Cora concealed herself between the TV and the bookcase. On the opposite side of the window, it provided the perfect cover. Hidden almost completely, the book case stopped any trace of moonlight that could reflect off her. She was enveloped in shadows and there was no doubt in her mind that anyone glancing her way would miss her.

As she settled her breathing, Cora began the wait. She knew it would feel longer, even though it would only be a matter of moments before they reached her. She placed the unsilenced gun in the front of her jeans where it was easily found and accessible. The other she held tightly in two hands and braced her arms on her knees, aiming the barrel at the open doorway, her eyes never wavering.

The only sound over the silence was the clock ticking—something that seemed slower than normal—and her heart, which was doing the opposite and beating louder and faster. She could feel it pounding against her chest, wanting to break free like an over-revved motor fuelled on adrenaline.

Then she heard their first mistake, a sound outside that alerted her: something brushing the metal bannister. Everything left her mind and she focused.

Their footsteps were barely audible as they moved across the hallway but the odd scuff along the carpet and hushed whispers were enough to give them away—their second mistake. Foolishly, it wasn’t easy to use stealth in combat boots and these men were just like all of Rogan’s, something they should have considered. Carrying the weight they held, it was impossible not to make a noise as Cora listened to their footsteps drawing nearer. The slow, deliberate steps sounded ominous in the silent building.

She tensed as they stopped outside her door, her body freezing in anticipation and fear. She had no shame in admitting it was fear as after all they had come with the intent to kill her. Anyone who wasn’t scared was either arrogant, reckless or just simply stupid. Holding her breath subconsciously, she waited in silence for them to enter.

Slowly the door creaked open, its over-painted hinges protesting as it did so. No one followed it. It continued to swing until it hit the wall, bouncing with a gentle knocking noise as metal hit the plaster.

Holding her weapon steady, Cora trained the barrel through the doorway. Unbelievably the figure of one of the men stepped out from behind the wall. Just a faint silhouette, as his body consumed the whole entrance and she shifted the barrel so it was pointing at his heart. Their third mistake. Her arm was steady and confident like she had been taught. Her breathing was a calm rhythm of silent ins and outs. They each lasted the same amount of time as she focused on the man in front of her. He had only taken a few steps forward into the room and that was only because Kirby had pushed him through by his back, fed up of the delay.

Cora watched as he turned his head, slowly scanning the area. Once again she held her breath as he turned to face her. His eyes skimmed over the place she was sitting, not noticing her in the blanket of blackness that surrounded her petite frame. Slowly, so as not to alert the men, she turned to see Kirby who was now fully visible. Calming herself she decided it was time to reveal her position. They would find her eventually and at least this way she had some hope of controlling the situation. She wouldn’t get them in a better position and if they started searching they would split up, making it impossible for her to defend herself from any possible attack.

“If you wish to live, you won’t take another step,” she said, her voice filled with a steely coldness that would send a shiver down a normal person’s spine.

However, these weren’t normal men. Both heads whipped in her direction instantly, searching for her in the dark.

“Place your weapons on the floor and I will refrain from shooting you.”

Neither of the men did as they were told, their eyes still wandering in the dark, hoping to find her before it was too late.

“And if we don’t? It’s two against one and you’re trapped, Cora,” Kirby jeered from out in the hallway. It was obvious why Rogan didn’t want him to take over, he was an embarrassment. He let his emotions get in the way and in Rogan’s business that could be deadly. It was better to remain detached from any situation.

That was how you won.

That was how you survived.

Cora didn’t react. She thought the implication that she would shoot was clear. “Maybe, but right now my first bullet is aimed between your eyes.”

That made Kirby gasp as fear rushed through his body. At her words she saw the man on her left start to raise his gun. His eyes had adjusted and he had found her. His arm was halfway between lining up with her head and the floor when Cora pulled the trigger. The shot went off with a deadened thwump, the silencer doing its job. The bullet tore through the man’s earlobe, travelling on to pass within an inch of Kirby’s head. He heard the whoosh of air that terrified him. The man squealed in pain grabbing his ear and tumbled back against the wall bleeding profusely.

It was a warning.

And it was the only one she was going to give.

The man then froze, locked in fear, his hand hovering mid-air as the pain overwhelmed him. His shoulders tensed as he considered his options. He had signed up to kill, not be killed.

“How many men have you got around my house?” Cora directed the question at Kirby, all the while keeping her attention on the man. If someone was going to shoot her, he would be the first to try. Kirby was the weak link in the group no matter how much he pretended to be in control. A leader didn’t hide in the doorway, afraid to enter and that was what Kirby was doing.

“Just give it up Cora, you can’t possibly win. I promise I’ll make it quick.” Kirby’s tone was smarmy and it irritated Cora. He sounded like a teenager taunting his victim in the playground, not the adult he was.

Rising slowly, Cora stepped out of the shadows, her body separating from the darkness. Releasing its hold on her, she revealed herself. Intently the men watched her deliberate steps and gun aimed at them. Her face was blank of emotion, her eyes wide like a hunter as she controlled the situation.

“So what’s your plan? Kill me and then what? Rogan would have your head for that whether you’re his son or not and you know it. Getting rid of me doesn’t get rid of your problems, Kirby. Are you going to kill Nick too? And then everyone who stands in your way? You don’t have the guts to do that.” Her voice remained calm as she spoke, her words slapping Kirby in the face.

“You know?” he choked out. It was not the reaction Cora was expecting and although she was sure she knew what he was referring to, she wasn’t going to say it out loud.

“I know what?” Cora asked coyly. No matter how much she wanted to taunt him with the knowledge she had accumulated, she was saving that trick for when she needed it most.

“You know about Rogan?”

“What should I know about him? He wants me for my ability and you feel threatened by me. Does that sum it up or is there something else you would like to share?” she replied innocently, thankful it was too dark for him to see any flicker of emotion that might reveal she knew.

“Don’t mess with me, Cora.” He tried to lower his voice in warning but it didn’t come out right. Rather than sounding threatening, it appeared he was trying to convince himself that he was stronger than everyone thought he was.

“Why? You’re not going to shoot me.” Cora laughed, tormenting him.

“I will.”

“You’re lying.” The words rang with dishonesty in her ears as she called him on it. She knew why. Kirby had no intention of killing her, that’s why he had brought back up. It was their job to kill and then take the fall.

“Maybe.” As Kirby said it, he nodded his head slightly, a signal Cora didn’t miss.

A flash of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

The barrel of his gun lifted, travelling towards her head with a swift movement.

If he reached it Cora knew he would fire. He had been ordered and no one disobeyed a Carvelli—even if it was Kirby.

Turning all attention back towards the man, she focused her eyes on him, locking the barrel on his chest.

She didn’t hesitate.

Pulling the trigger, the bullet launched out of the gun, burying itself in the man’s chest. It landed right where she had aimed. A perfect shot.

Shouting in agony, the man’s legs buckled as his muscles gave up and he crumpled to the floor. He had thought her attention was focused on Kirby. He had been told to get on with it. Now he felt cold.

Pressing his hand against his chest, he felt the warm, sticky blood flowing out and coating his fingers.

His hands were shaking.