Outlaws, Matt Rogers [best ereader under 100 TXT] 📗

of the Pier 400 Container Terminal, and then said, ‘Okay — thanks for that.’

‘What now?’

‘Now I have a talk to you and your friends.’

‘A talk?’

‘If I’m going to be honest, I’m a little pressed for time. This isn’t how I wanted this to go. I need to deter the lot of you from a life of crime. Ready?’

Quinn’s hands shook.

‘Come on,’ King said. ‘Get up.’

Quinn stayed where he was.

King said, ‘Up.’

Quinn got up.

King grabbed him, spun him around, and jammed the barrel into the small of his back. He led him like that across the den, and told Quinn to open the door, slowly and carefully.

Quinn opened the door, slowly and carefully.

He froze in place.

King poised behind him, calculating.

A voice said, ‘Jesus Christ, Quinn. You see what happened here? Cal fuckin’ fainted…’

Quinn stayed where he was, his frame filling the doorway, blocking King’s line of sight. King could hear the man flapping his lips, unsure how to respond.

‘Quinn?’ the other voice said.

Harmless. Non-threatening.

King recognised his cue.

He shoved past Quinn, keeping the SIG behind his back. Vince was there, crouched over Cal. Cal was semi-conscious, his eyes glassy and unfocused, no threat whatsoever. His skin was still pale and clammy. The elbow and subsequent impact with the floor had mangled his nose beyond recognition. Vince was cradling Cal’s head in his hands, propping him up, his own face wracked with confusion and shock.

King widened his eyes in mock surprise. ‘That’s gnarly.’

Vince barely even looked at King. He kept his eyes down, focused on Cal. ‘I know, man. I just found him here like this. What—’

King stepped forward and punted Vince square in the jaw.

51

It was a clean connection.

Lights out.

Vince flailed back, spread-eagling across the tiles like a starfish, his face now in a similar condition to Cal’s.

King wheeled to face Quinn, bringing the SIG up to make sure he didn’t get any rebellious ideas. ‘For a bunch of traffickers, you’re all terrible at being cautious.’

Quinn didn’t answer. He gulped. There’d been hope before. Sure, King had neutralised Cal without blinking, but everyone gets lucky occasionally.

Now, King had casually smashed Vince’s face in with a well-placed boot.

Things weren’t looking too hot.

King grabbed Quinn by the collar again and threw him in the direction of the open-plan area. Quinn stumbled out into the kitchen, heading for the floor-to-ceiling windows and second-storey balcony opposite.

Aaron and Kurt were furthest away, holding half-finished Coronas, seated on bar stools, confused as to Quinn’s behaviour.

Duke was closer.

Standing on this side of the kitchen island. One palm on the countertop. The other empty. His eyes cunning, calculating. He’d figured it all out in a heartbeat. Saw Quinn stumble into view, pale and sweaty and wide-eyed, and knew what was happening before King followed a second later.

When King stepped into view with his SIG raised, Duke looked like he’d been expecting it.

‘You fucking idiot, Quinn,’ Duke said, more disappointed than fearful.

King hesitated.

Quinn said, ‘I’m sorry. He got the jump on me.’

‘That’s not what I mean,’ Duke said. ‘Watch this.’

He jerked hard in King’s direction.

Moved like a whip.

King reacted instinctively to the sudden threat. Turned and lined up his aim and pumped the trigger once without a shred of hesitation or remorse. That was the way it had to go, especially in this world. Anything else would get you killed.

But nothing happened.

The trigger clicked uselessly.

The confusion took milliseconds to recover from, milliseconds King didn’t have. Because his only chance was to make a last-ditch, leaping lunge of his own. He didn’t commit to it, opting instead to beat down the three remaining men with his bare hands, but he didn’t get the chance.

Duke smacked the big coffee machine aside with an open palm and snatched up the identical SIG Sauer P226 resting behind it.

Loaded with a full magazine, already cocked.

No obstacles between Duke’s finger and the trigger.

He had that weapon aimed between King’s eyes before King could blink.

King lowered his own useless gun.

Now his pulse rose.

Duke’s bright eyes flared, and he flashed a glance at Quinn. ‘You don’t remember what Cal did to his gun?’

‘Oh,’ Quinn said, taking a step back, away from King. ‘You’re right. I am a fucking idiot.’

‘When am I wrong?’

King glanced down at the SIG in his palm. ‘Fingerprint sensitive?’

Duke nodded. ‘Cal’s a little bit mechanic, a little bit electrical engineer. And a whole lot bored.’

Aaron and Kurt shot to their feet, as if on a live-action tape delay. They’d seemingly just figured out that Duke had regained control of the situation. Aaron kept his cool, but Kurt grinned broadly, spreading his big lips in a lurid smile. He towered over everyone.

King went into survival mode. There was no other choice. He could very well die here.

In fact, it was more likely than not.

‘Shoot him,’ Quinn said. ‘You should see what he did to Cal and Vince.’

Duke’s eyes lit up with the slightest flicker of anger. ‘Are they dead?’

‘No.’

Duke breathed out.

Quinn said, ‘But he messed them up. He’s some elite soldier or something.’

‘Is he?’

‘I’m right here,’ King said. ‘Ask me.’

Duke said, ‘Okay. You some elite soldier or something?’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

Duke bristled. ‘You think I’m going to make a mistake. Get angry.’

‘Shoot him,’ Quinn said. ‘Did you not hear a word I said?’

‘I want to know what he knows,’ Duke said. ‘He sure breezed his way in here, didn’t he? I don’t trust anyone, but I dropped my guard around him. That takes something special.’

‘Shoot him, you moron,’ Quinn said.

‘He won’t,’ King said. ‘He didn’t get this house by being too cautious. And he’s right. This was easy for me. My name isn’t Liam Kingsley. There is no apartment in Brooklyn. There’s no leverage. If I’d gotten away, all his leads wouldn’t have turned up a damn thing. I’m a ghost.’

The speech was carefully spoken. Every word had intent.

King could see they worked.

They made Duke think, Could it be true?

Because it was true, and on top of that it was feasible. And that threw him off. Now he was thinking, If this motherfucker can do that, who