Occasional chatter crossed his earpiece—check-ins and status updates. Jared had plans for Buck Baer. Whatever Baer thought he was showing up for, they’d both agreed that this was their last stand. More formal than the usual Titan throw-downs, this one would be very different from the battles he waged against the usual sickos just to earn a paycheck. This would be nothing less than a duel.

He pictured Sugar’s logo. Pink dueling pistols. How appropriate. A blacked-out Explorer pulled into GUNS as he pushed through the heavy front door and moved into position. Baer had made it with seconds to spare.

Parker’s voice carried into his earpiece. “We have movement on GSI’s perimeter positions.”

“Shift. Stay on your targets,” Rocco followed.

Confirmations came through. Brock’s voice grated on Jared’s nerves. As Delta Team checked in, Jared took a second to mentally commend Rocco for taking initiative. Delta Team was a good move. They were an arm of Titan that Jared let handle the grayer-meets-invisible ops. Titan had as many on-the-books assignments as they did off-the-books assignments. Delta Team had non-existent assignments. Titan versus GSI ranked as non-existent.

Under Jared’s watchful eye, Baer’s door cracked, and he emerged better suited for a business meeting than a field standoff. While bullets weren’t flying and a chopper wasn’t hovering, Jared could tell Baer had softened. The corrupt jerk might like a dirty fight, but he hadn’t been the one pulling the trigger.

Jared’s trigger finger was well practiced. His palm tingled as it hovered over his holster, ready to draw a weapon like a Wild West cowboy itching for a high-noon standoff.

A familiar feeling crawled down his back—an awareness that this showdown equated to more than finishing a job. Every job up to that point had helped or hindered someone else. His clients. Their victims. His marks. Their enemy.

This time, it was all about him.

He took a step forward, into the parking lot. Baer did the same. They didn’t pass along pretend pleasantries.

No games. No small talk.

It was the end of their decades-long battle.

Both men locked eyes and readied to kill. Their dance continued, each sizing up prey to be slaughtered, taking slow steps forward. Each tactical-booted footfall crunched on tiny rocks. Jared’s confidence made his lungs cool, refreshed. Easy breezy breathing. He readied his body and his mind as though he’d been preparing his whole life for—

Hell. A light-silver Volvo station wagon pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop in the middle of their standoff.

Remaining in place, Jared willed the car to pull out of the parking lot. It didn’t, and his concern escalated when he glanced past the idling car toward his enemy. Baer was never interested in the well-being of the innocent. Women and children didn’t garner any special treatment from GSI. Cases in point, Sugar, Asal, and Brock’s family.

Adding as much menace and forewarning as he could manage in three words, Jared hollered as a woman stepped out, “GUNS is closed.”