The Chaos Crew: The Complete Series (Devil’s Dozen Box Sets Book 2)

AS THE ELEVATOR careened up through what had looked like a bland office building from the outside, I was overly aware of the weight across my shoulders, belt, and abdomen. Two incredibly precise guns were strapped to my body, one now visible at my hip and the other hidden in my boot. My hoodie and jeans concealed various blades and a set of compact rappelling gear. Each of the guys in formation around me was carrying at least as much if not more.

I threw my hood back, revealing my face in the way Julius had planned. The guys did the same, pulling back the fabric that had been used to conceal our identities as we made our way here—as we waited for what we’d spent two days meticulously planning.

Anticipation hummed through the air. Nothing about the space around me told me this was anything other than an office building, but I had to assume that the men knew what they were doing. It wasn’t the kind of mistake they were likely to make.

And where better to hide a top-secret criminal nightclub than in a spot so innocuous-looking?

“We’re clear on the plan?” Julius asked, really a formality at this point.

We all nodded. My fingers tingled with excitement, ready to try out those immaculately sighted pistols. I held my hands still, keeping my calm with careful focus. I wasn’t about to forget all my training and experience over a trip to Pittsburgh.

The elevator reached the third floor from the top and dinged. The crew had said that the Funhouse encompassed all three of the uppermost floors in the building. I straightened my back and threw back my shoulders, standing behind Julius and Garrison who did the same. I imagined that Blaze and Talon—sandwiching me between them—prepared themselves, too.

The elevator door swung open, and it took every effort for me not to drop my jaw at what lay ahead in the wide-open room before us. The men had described it to me, but somehow I still hadn’t been prepared.

Julius strode out onto the entrance platform outside and paused there as we gathered around him. It was both a power move, showing he wasn’t in any hurry, and an opportunity for me to adjust to my surroundings. I couldn’t be more grateful for the kindness, because this place was unlike any nightclub I’d ever seen. Despite what the guys told me, I couldn’t have ever imagined… this.

I understood where the place got its name now.

The Funhouse had windowless outer walls, but every surface between here and the roof—walls, floors, and ceilings—was made of glass. Some of it was transparent and the rest of it mirrors that bounced the artificial light back and forth and reflected it at unnerving angles. Even the elevator shaft this far up was glass. I suspected that from any point within the club, you could see every other corner of the place. You’d also see at least a few different views of yourself in those eerie mirrors.

In other words, there was no hiding up here.

Only sparse furniture scattered the glass rooms, but the pieces looked opulent—all silks and velvets, fine leather and mahogany. It was mostly placed around the far ends of the private booths so as not to interrupt the flow of light. I could see right into all those booths, of course, and about half of them were occupied right now. Some of the inhabitants had posh suits and carefully trimmed hair, others more urban clothes like us, but they all gave off a potent vibe of menace and power.

I had no doubt that these were among the upper echelon of criminals. And now an awful lot of them were watching our arrival with gazes I couldn’t read.

“Our usual booth is free,” Blaze remarked. As one, the crew began marching toward the place that they claimed with only their glances.

As I walked with them, my gaze flitted through the space like the light bouncing off the mirrors, taking in even more details. A handful of aerial artists dangled from knotted silks hung in various hollow columns of glass, twisting, posing, and swaying in a weird sort of dance to match the bass-heavy music that pulsed through the club. They all wore skimpy clothing that bared most of their bodies. Not just women, though—I spotted a couple of men wearing only thongs as well.

I traced the ropes up toward the ceiling high above us on the uppermost floor, and my jaw went slack a second time. There on the top floor, in an enclosure made of—what else?—solid glass, a fully grown tiger was prowling from side to side. Not just a nightclub but a zoo too, apparently.

We strode toward the mirrored staircase, and as I turned my head, I noticed the elevator descending, leaving a completely translucent glass case where it had been.

“It goes back to the bottom for appearances,” Garrison explained with a smirk. “Can’t have anything blocking the view.”

My lips twitched with amusement, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to show anything other than a solemn front with all these hardened criminals watching. I was an unknown quantity here, and I didn’t want them pegging me for a silly girl. Other than the female dancers and some of the servers prancing through the levels from the bar at the very center of the club, I might have been the only woman in the place.

Oh, no, maybe there was one lady down there in the far corner with a couple of men, her hair cut short but her lips a stark ruby red. Still, we were clearly a rare breed.

We passed one of the female servers on our way to our booth, and she trailed her hand over Blaze’s bicep and leaned in to whisper something quick in his ear. Huh. From the look on her face, she was aiming to hook up—with full knowledge of what to expect from him.

Had he slept with her before? From the playful wave one of the other servers aimed his way, he was pretty popular around here.

I’d known he was a flirt, but I hadn’t realized he followed up on it with much action. Now, he tugged on a lock of the first woman’s blond hair but said in a warm tone, “Not tonight. Tonight’s all business.”

But other nights? A spike of jealousy I hadn’t been prepared for lanced through me and soured my mouth. I swallowed thickly and yanked my gaze back to our path through the club. It wasn’t my business who he’d slept with before, especially when our relationship had never progressed to anything like that.

Julius marched first into the booth that was apparently the crew’s regular one, the rest of us flanking him. A tan leather sofa stretched the length of one wall, impossibly buttery when I sank down onto it. Two matching armchairs sat at either end of it, and a glass coffee table with mahogany legs gleamed between them all.

Julius and Talon seated themselves on either side of me. Blaze flopped into one of the chairs, and Garrison stayed standing with a typically cocky air.

“Order me an Old Fashioned,” he said. “I’m going to make the rounds.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone.”

I had the urge to stick my tongue out at him, which really wouldn’t have given the right impression at all. Instead, I wrinkled my nose, and he laughed.

He sauntered out of our booth and wandered to our nearest neighbors, and then the next occupied booth, and the next. From the nods and words exchanged, it looked like everyone was aware of who he was. His demeanor shifted slightly as he approached each group, subtly reflecting their pre-existing energy. I watched his chameleon-like skills with a flicker of admiration.

I’d never seen him so fully at work before. He was masterful.

Not all of his friendly overtures seemed to be met with equal enthusiasm. I noticed a couple of the men whose groups he approached tense up slightly as the others spoke to him, and made a mental note to remember them later.

A different server sashayed into our booth and asked for our drink orders. “A whiskey highball,” I said, picking the low-alcohol cocktail I usually turned to on missions so I could sip it without being worried that it’d go too much to my head. “Extra ginger ale.”

“Just club soda and lime for me,” Julius said.

The server giggled. “Right, you’re the teetotaler.”

Talon asked for a beer and Blaze a marguerita, putting in Garrison’s order as well. As the server headed out, I glanced at Julius. “You don’t drink.”

He lifted his shoulders slightly. “I have on occasion in the past, but only very rarely since I started the crew. You never know when you’re going to need a totally clear head.”

“And Julius is the one who makes sure we all keep our heads attached,” Blaze said with a chuckle.

“Exactly,” Julius said without any humor of his own. “I won’t risk the crew’s lives by being in any way mentally compromised.”

It made sense, I supposed. Because he was the one who led most of the missions, he felt responsible for seeing them through entirely. And maybe even in between missions, he wanted to be on guard for unexpected problems. I didn’t think drinking was an irresponsible decision, especially when we needed beverages in front of us to hold our cover, but I understood why Julius wouldn’t do it.

The server came back in just a few minutes and set out our glasses in front of us. Remembering Julius’s words, I only took the smallest sip from mine, rolling the tangy liquid around in my mouth.

As the woman left, Garrison strolled back in and plucked his Old Fashioned off the table before sinking into the free chair. I watched him take a small swallow. Was that really his drink of choice, or was it part of a persona he was putting on even now? I guessed any face you wanted to show to the criminal underworld, you had to keep it up every second you were in this place.

We relaxed back into our seats as if we were only there to enjoy the atmosphere. “Observations?” Julius asked Garrison.

Garrison cradled his drink against his chest and cocked his head. “I’d say there are four teams currently here who are aware of the bounty and seriously considering pursuing it, if not already working on finding our usual base of operations. The Chicago Turks, the Burning Whips, the Jackhammers, and the Angel’s Fiends.” He surreptitiously pointed out the groups as he spoke—one on the top floor near the tiger’s enclosure, two on the second floor with us, and one down by the elevator platform. Among them were the groups I’d noticed getting edgy at his arrival.

“I thought we had pretty good relations with at least the Turks and the Fiends,” he added. “It must be an awfully big pot for them to be jeopardizing that.”

Talon hummed darkly. “They aren’t friends if they’re willing to betray us.”

“How can you be sure?” I asked.

Garrison made a vague gesture and took another gulp of his drink. “I read it in the way they looked at me and talked to me. The tension was obvious, as much as they tried to hide it. They were startled to see us here, so between that lack of preparation and the nature of the Funhouse, I doubt they’ll make any move on us.”

I glanced at the glass floor beneath my feet and realized how impossible an attack would be in this place, at least one that hadn’t been meticulously planned. One misplaced shot and you could easily damage the entire structure of this part of the building, shattering the floor beneath you or the ceiling over your head as well as destroying your target. Peace was enforced through a sense of mutually assured destruction.

But we were going to rise above that mutual assurance. Julius was the most meticulous man I’d ever met, and I knew he’d considered every possibility. The statement he meant to make would be a powerful one as long as we survived it.

“Just those four groups?” Julius asked.

Garrison shrugged. “As far as I can tell. The others might have hid it better, but that’d mean they’ve developed much better poker faces since the last time I met them.”

“Four is plenty.” The crew’s commander scanned the club. I could practically see the final pieces lining up in his head. “Talon, you deal with the Turks up top. Dess, you take the Jackhammers down below. I’ll handle the two on our level, although feel free to jump in if either of you finishes with your targets before I do. We need them all down ASAP, before they have a moment to think about striking back.”

I nodded, enjoying the deeper thrum of authority that’d come into his voice. It was only the three of us doing the shooting for this operation—the three of us who were the most skilled. Blaze and Garrison were proficient enough to handle backup during a regular mission, but this one required too careful a touch.

They were contributing in their own ways, of course—Garrison with his rounds and Blaze now, glancing at his phone and watching the movements of the employees around the club. “Ready on your signal,” Julius said to him.

“Just a few minutes,” Blaze murmured.

We needed to time our attack perfectly. No servers or dancers could be in the way, but Blaze had said they followed obvious patterns. If we worked around their circuits of the room, we’d get a small opening to make our move without hurting any innocent bystanders.

I casually adjusted my visible gun, refamiliarizing myself with its exact position. We drank from our glasses and exchanged a few random remarks that passed through my mind without sticking. I was too focused on the task ahead, braced for the moment when Blaze would say—

“Now,” the hacker murmured, standing.

Julius, Talon, and I leapt to our feet and sprang forward. Without looking back, I knew Blaze and Garrison would make their way to the elevator shaft while we did the dirty work.

Talon charged up the staircase, and I flew down it, dropping to grab my second gun from my boot as I went. My momentum whipped back my hair.

All my attention narrowed down to the squad of five men lounging in the booth Garrison had indicated. I noted the carefully sculpted scruff on their jaws, the leather jackets that hung off their bulky forms, the bottle of brandy someone had bought now empty on the table between their glasses. The twitch of their heads toward me as they registered the sudden action around them—

But all that was in fleeting seconds, the space of a heartbeat or two. Then I was diving into their midst, pulling the triggers with my two guns aiming in separate directions.

We’d picked the guns and ammunition for both accuracy and more moderate power. Bullets that tore straight through bodies with enough force to crack the glass behind them would have screwed us over too. These would embed themselves in our targets’ flesh and lodge there as the blood flowed out around them.

But I still had to aim well. Hit the fleshy parts that offered plenty of blood flow while also proving instantly fatal. We still wanted impact, but we couldn’t afford any flailing around as the life drained out of them. Not when these targets were such skilled criminals themselves, equally armed and dangerous.

I shot one man three times in the chest in quick succession—above and below his heart to puncture the aortas and then right into the heart itself. As his body keeled over, blood gushed over the table and across the floor. At the same time, I shot one of his colleagues in the throat. More blood spouted out of his mouth and neck as he tumbled over.

Their three companions were leaping up with noises of shock. Those noises died as I buried bullets in two of their throats too. The fifth guy, the one who’d be our survivor to return to his larger organization and everyone they knew to spread the word, I simply shot in both arms, rendering them temporarily useless. He wasn’t going to be tossing back any more drinks—or aiming his own weapons at us.

I whirled and dashed back up the stairs without a second’s hesitation. Julius had already taken down three of the four men in his first group. He was just shooting the second guy in the other booth. I blasted the third and fourth in the skull, one in the front and one in the back thanks to the way they were standing. The fifth cringed and spluttered on the floor as Julius kicked his gun out of his hand.

Exhilaration rushed through me. I’d never had a job quite like this, and it felt good to stretch my skills again, to test the limits of what I was capable of. Especially next to men who were equally capable.

We were a pretty fucking fantastic team.

Speaking of capable men—

My gaze leapt to Talon on the floor above us. He was just plunging his knife into the chest of one of the men among his targets, two already lying dead from gunshot wounds, another’s throat slit.

Talon launched himself at the fifth, who was groping for a weapon, and sliced that hand neatly off through the forearm. He whipped the severed limb into the tiger’s enclosure, where the predator pounced on it with a pleased growl. Then he hurtled down the stairs to join us.

As Talon and I moved to the elevator shaft where Blaze and Garrison were already waiting, Julius held up his hands.

“We’re done here,” he shouted, his voice ringing through the entire club. Some of the other patrons had frozen, flattening themselves against the furniture defensively; others were groping for their own weapons.

Julius continued quickly, wanting to get his message out before we faced any backlash—if anyone dared. “We don’t want to kill anyone who doesn’t deserve to die. Remember what’ll happen if you fire a shot and it goes badly. Well, we won’t be the only ones who fall.” He gestured to the glass surfaces around us. “This was just a reminder of the consequences if you mess with the Chaos Crew. Leave us be, and we’ll leave you be too.”

That sentence was the signal to depart. I hooked my rappelling line onto the elevator cable in sync with the men. With a collective breath, we dove into the abyss below, soaring down the shaft out of the Funhouse.

Not a single shot rang out after us.