DEADLY DECEPTION

CHAPTER 29

RICK'S POV

The clock on the cafe wall ticked past the twenty-minute mark. The coffee in front of me had long gone cold, untouched. Thomas sat across from me, one arm draped over the back of the chair, eyes trained on the entrance. His fingers tapped against the table in a steady rhythm, the only sign of his impatience.

The businessman was late. Too late.

Something wasn't right.

I exhaled through my nose, scanning the quiet interior of the cafe. A few locals sat at their tables, absorbed in their own world. The barista wiped down the counter, moving sluggishly. Outside, the streetlights flickered against the evening glow.

Then my phone rang.

Fred.

The moment I answered, his voice exploded through the speaker.

"FUCK—RICK! We're being attacked! These fuckers—"

The line crackled, gunfire snapping in the background, cutting off his words.

Avery.

My stomach turned to ice.

It was a setup.

I was out of my chair before the call even ended.

"Move," I barked at Thomas, already pushing through the door.

But the second we stepped onto the street, figures emerged from the shadows.

Men. Armed.

They didn't hesitate.

Gunfire erupted, shattering the quiet night.

"Fucking hell," Thomas growled, diving behind a parked car.

I was already moving, gun drawn, returning fire. My body moved on instinct—cover, aim, shoot. The sharp kick of the gun was familiar, grounding. Thomas was beside me, his shots precise, sharp.

A man lunged from the side. I pivoted, squeezing the trigger. His body jerked back before he collapsed onto the pavement.

Thomas and I moved like we'd done this a hundred times before—covering, reloading, shooting in sync. I didn't have to speak, and he didn't have to ask. He fired at the left, I took the right. A perfect rhythm. His training ran deep in my blood, whether I liked it or not.

The last man standing hesitated, gun trembling.

"Drop it," I ordered, voice cold.

He hesitated for half a second too long.

A shot rang out. Thomas' bullet slammed between his eyes.

Silence.

We didn't waste time. We sprinted for the car.

I was already peeling out before Thomas even closed the door. My foot slammed against the gas, tires screeching. The engine roared as I tore through the streets, weaving between cars, barely missing collisions.

Fred's words echoed in my head. We're being attacked.

Avery.

The thought made my grip tighten on the wheel, rage curling deep in my chest.

As I neared the beach, chaos unfolded in front of me. Gunfire cracked in the air. The smell of gunpowder mixed with salt and blood. The boys were holding their ground, covering Avery. Shots fired from all directions. Bodies dropped.

A sharp, cold focus locked me in place.

I didn't slow down.

I crashed the car to a stop, metal screeching as Thomas and I threw open the doors, guns blazing.