Page 158 of Intent to Kill
FIVE YEARS OF PLANNING
JUNE 1991
The waters were calm, but a soft nightly breeze left Adam’s boat rocking in the river. He could clearly see the beautifully lit Burke Street mansion, a beacon glowing against the darkness of the night.
His nerves were shredding him. Every facet of his inner voice was screaming at him to go after her. Back in the day, he would’ve tried to. And likely failed. As he would this time if he deviated from his plan. He would gladly lay down his own life, but could never ask his friends to do the same. Not after everything they’d already given up.
Keep going. Kill Dorian Blake.
“We ready for this?” he said into his radio.
“As we’ll ever be.” Carlos’s reply buzzed through a moment later.
“Remember, get in, stay low, find Blake. He’ll probably be covered by T.B.”
Adam watched through binoculars as Dan and Carlos, both dressed in black tie, approached the front doors of the mansion. Their pseudonyms were on the list for the evening.
The two guards working the door smirked and then let Dan and Carlos in without incident. They were all on Adam’s payroll, after all. In fact, most of the people whom Blake had let in his keep worked for Adam. Drawing all of his wolves into Blake’s den.
“Paul?” Adam said into his radio.
“Heading up now.”
Adam bore the binoculars again and noted the back dock where Paul was walking up the steps from the river. Also dressed in black tie, he snuck into the party, carrying weapons to disperse to their crew once he was inside.
“I’m in. Just you now, man,” Paul said.
“On my way.”
Adam had only just started the boat to head for the back dock himself when several guests made their way to the pool area. None of them on his payroll, but dedicated Blake associates. It would be too many for him to take out without drawing attention.
“Too many guards out the back now,” Adam buzzed through the radio. “Plan B—I’m coming through upstairs.”
Veering the boat southward, Adam glided along the river until he found a patch of dry land to anchor and park, jumping straight to the grass above.
A five-minute jog later, he was staring at the mansion wall, vastly open and vulnerable from where he approached. There was only one man guarding it. Blake’s resources must have been stretched very thin.
The openness of the terrain left him no choice but to approach from the front. Stumbling like a drunk as cover, he moved ahead, though the guard still put a weary hand on his weapon.
It was only when he was close enough that Adam dropped the act, kneeing the guard before exacting a knockout punch.
Adam threw his guns over the fence and scaled the wall, landing in the middle of the hedge maze. He navigated the maze, used the trellis to scale the house wall, like he’d done countless times before, and made his way to the window. He pushed it open and landed himself right in the middle of Mercedes’s bedroom.
They were inside.
The end had arrived.
* * *
The party was held in the grand ballroom. Overlooking the pool deck, the white French doors had been opened in full to let the night air in.
The floor itself was simple, sand-colored tiles and decadent crystal chandeliers hanging overhead with a tight balcony overlook wrapping around the interior perimeter.
Throughout, several pop-up bars had been placed. It was there that Paul sat with Dan and Carlos, keeping their backs to the crowd and their heads down.
“You counting?” Paul asked when he saw Dan’s head bobbing along the room.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “Dead even. Half the people in this room still work for Blake, the other half work for us. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
