TROUBLE , kaz brekker

vi. the job is the job.

CHAPTER SIX

KAZ HAD TO ADMIT, being on the receiving end of an ambush was much less enjoyable than being the one ambushing.

He forgot to check the corners. He knew time was not something they had in plentiful supply, not with the Stadwatch patrols and Rollins' paranoia and the tendency of these well-to-do types to keep both hands firmly on their cash. Kaz estimated five, ten, if luck was on their side, fifteen minutes to get the job done. And so, when the moment came, he didn't hesitate.

Hindsight mocked him for his foolishness...it looked suspiciously like Jesper wearing one of his kilts. What was it Kaz had always said? What were the two paramount things on any job? A clear line of sight and no opportunity for surprises. In forgetting to check the corners he had taken both of those things and fed them to the harbour. And now, by the furious look in Pekka Rollins' eyes, they were next.

His heart may have pumped blackened blood through his veins but in that moment, as they crawled through that window, it was vengeance that kept him alive. Kaz was so close, he could almost hear Jordie signing their lives away. The echoing scratch of a pen served as a haunting, harrowing reminder of why he let revenge tie him on the end of marionette strings. He'd got excited, he'd got urgent, he'd let it make him lazy.

And then Echo whispered his name. Not Brekker, not some strangely endearing insult she'd plucked from the infinite mountain in her head. Kaz. She rarely called him that. Not unless she wanted something and even then he was lucky to get more than a Sunshine. But it wasn't the name that piqued his senses, made him drop everything and turn so quickly he was sure he'd pulled something. No, that was her voice.

They'd faced the Darkling and Inferni and Volcra and her mother and yet through all of it, he'd never heard her sound like that. She was terrified.

He'd seen her face first, white as a sheet, jaw set firm. Then he'd seen the shadow behind her. Then he'd seen the gun.

Pekka Rollins had a fucking gun to his girl's head.

He thought the rage would stop his heart. Dark, visceral, poisonous rage that clotted in his veins and wormed under his skin. Kaz could at least be grateful for the desk and the distance that separated him from them because Rollins was hurting one of the few people he could truly rely on and his mind was running rampant with a thousand beautiful ways to make him burn for it.

But to do that, to portray his emotions so blatantly, would be suicide. For him or for her, Kaz couldn't say but he could be certain that there wasn't a part of him willing to risk either. He still has Jordie's debt to pay and Echo still had a life to live, her house on the hill to buy. The risk of losing either chance was enough to keep his fists firmly clenched at his sides.

Rollins pushed Echo forward with the barrel of his gun until they were entirely out of the shadows. "Clean sweep, Brekker."

But Echo kept her line of sight fixated on her feet. At first, Kaz thought it was the same old panic but he should have known she was better than that. So what was she looking at? A file under her foot, a few scraps of paper trapped under her sole? She'd swallowed her terror and now that was her concern when there was a gun to her head? The job is the job, Brekker, she'd reply. Or maybe it would be Kaz now.

Rollins hadn't noticed her diverted attention as he continued, looking thoroughly pleased with himself with every chirping word. It was a symptom of the Barrel it seems, the pride that came before the fall. "All that will be left will be my little spider, back in her cage and half a million kruge coming my way." He took a deep breath, so smug Kaz could barely stomach the sight. Rollins hummed, then he smiled. "I'm going to sleep well."