Ice crouched down before me, dressed all in black from the tip of her soft-soled boots to the top of the ski-mask which covered her head and face. Only her vibrant eyes, glittering silver, posed a counterpoint to the monochrome. And even in them there was a darkness swirling that I could feel as well as see.

"You doin' ok?" she asked, voice low and only slightly muffled behind the knit material of the mask. A gloved hand reached out and cupped my cheek and her eyes warmed in concern.

Instead of answering her question right out, I leaned into her palm and took that dark, exciting, dangerous scent of leather deep into my senses. Paradoxically, perhaps, that had a calming effect on me.

I looked at her, examined her, asked her, silently, the same question she asked me.

Was she doing ok?

The answer was an easy one.

She was more than ok. Like a prize thoroughbred prancing at the gate, she was ready.

It had been a week since I'd finally gotten out from under the sickly weight of my bout with pneumonia, and in that week, we had practiced, practiced, practiced for this very thing. Practiced until I could go over every move every one of us was supposed to make in my sleep.

Which I did. Often.

And here we were, at this proverbial 'D-day', and if all I could think of was running away, all she could think of was running ahead.

I could see it easily in the dark sparkle of her eyes, in the loose and easy set of her shoulders, in the coiling aura of danger and intensity which swirled around her like a living thing. Not only was she ready. She was able. And willing.

She was born for this, I thought, startling myself with my insight.

Perhaps not for this very thing, no. But so close to it that the syntax made very little difference. "Close enough for jazz," my father might have said.

Ice is a hunter. Pure and simple.

And this time, Cavallo was the prey.

To my great surprise, I found myself sparing a brief second to feel a spark of pity for the man who had no idea who, or what, was coming for him.

That spark extinguished itself quickly beneath the weight of the memories of what that man had done to Ice, to me, to us.

Part of me was sad that she was only going in there to take him out alive. Part of me would have gleefully watched her hold him down as I pulled the trigger of a gun I didn't own.

A very small part, perhaps, but I won't deny it was there. If ever a bastard had it coming to him, Cavallo was that bastard.

"I'm doing ok," I answered finally as her eyes started to show a deeper concern. "A little nervous, but basically alright."

The way those same eyes subtly changed their shape told me she was smiling beneath her mask. "You'll do fine."

"I wish I had your confidence."

She shifted a little, her expression going a bit hard. "Be glad that you don't. Confidence in this type of thing is a wasted art. You're not a murderer, Angel. Never wish for that kind of surety."

Knowing I'd well and truly blown the moment, I reached up and captured her hand before she could pull it away. "Ice, even if you'd never killed so much as a spider in your entire life, you would still have confidence in your ability to do this. It's as much a part of you as the color of your eyes or the pitch of your voice. It was something you were born with, not something you were made into."

"Ya think so, huh?"

I smiled as I felt her body relax. "I know so."

A soft rustling, and Pony squatted down next to us, her expression apologetic. "I thought you'd wanna know. They just changed the guards."

Ice nodded. "Alright. Round the others up. It's showtime."

And with that, my nervousness came back as if it had never left. "Ice... ."

Coming to her feet, she brought me easily up with her, then steadied me as my suddenly trembling legs threatened all-out rebellion. A moment later, Pony, Critter and Rio crowded around us, awaiting last minute instructions. Waiting in the car below, Nia was the only one absent.

For a brief second, I felt a flash of blinding hatred for her, sitting so safely while the rest of us ran down to danger. I pushed that counterproductive emotion down with a savagery Ice would have been surprised to see, had she known of its existence.

"Is everyone sure on what they have to do?"

Nods all around from women with somber, pale faces. The fear was there, palpable, like a sixth member of our group. But there was also something else sharing space with us. A keen sense of anticipation which dulled the fear's sharp edges just enough to prevent panic.

Pale eyes pinned each one of us in place for a long, silent moment, and all around me, spines stiffened, jaws firmed, and shoulders squared.

Ice nodded. "Let's go."

Then she disappeared over the breast of the hill while we, for now, stood watch.

As soon as Ice disappeared into the darkness, Critter drew up the sleeve of her long black coat and illuminated the dial of her watch. The soft light bathed her face in an eerie green glow as she watched the seconds scroll rapidly by.

"She's over the wall," Pony whispered from her position half-behind a thick pine. She was staring through a night-scope attached to her rifle and tracking my lover's every move, together with the movements of the guards who patrolled the grounds.

Though the plan was to leave everyone alive, if perhaps a little worse for wear, that was only if things went according to schedule. One hint that something was going badly and that rifle on Pony's shoulder would be doing a great deal more damage than its current incarnation as a simple spying tool.

"Behind the house now."

My sigh of relief was an audible one. She was now out of sight of any guards, at least temporarily, and only an alarm system and a locked door stood between her and gaining entry into the house.

"Fifty seconds," Critter remarked, checking her chronometer. Ice had requested one full minute before we put phase two of the plan into effect.

As Critter watched the changing numbers on her watch, I stared out over the darkened compound. My heart hammered triple time in my ears, so loudly that I felt as if I'd been somehow transported into the very middle of a Jamaican steel drum competition. My head and stomach swam in queasy syncopation, and the spit in my mouth was sour and hot.

"Twenty seconds."

"Ten."

"Now."

Pony relaxed her grip on the rifle, then shouldered it as she turned to look at Critter and myself. "You guys ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Critter replied for the both of us.

"Alright then. Let's do it."

With a shuddering breath, I forced myself to move and prayed I wouldn't break my neck while trying to navigate my way down the mountain wearing the ridiculous choice of footwear I was. "Come fuck me's", Pony had called them, right before her instep was nearly speared by the heel of one such shoe. The pejoratives got a great deal less pleasant after that.

As if reading my mind, Rio came to stand beside me and offered one well-muscled arm. Smiling up at her, I took the assistance gratefully, and almost laughed out loud as her eyes darted shyly away from my own.

Within moments, we were at the bottom, and Critter and I held our places while Rio and Pony sidled up to the stone wall and eased themselves into position very near the wrought-iron gate.

When Pony gave us the thumbs up, I looked to Critter, who nodded. Together, we removed our long coats and dropped them down to the desert floor.

"God, I feel like a two-dollar whore in this getup," Critter grumped as she painfully adjusted the barely-there top which was cinched so tight across her chest that she could have rested her chin on her breasts if she'd had a mind to. "Could I look any cheaper?"

"Yeah, you could look like me." My face was sweating through enough makeup to send Revlon's stock soaring to stratospheric heights. My clothes, what there were of them, were three sizes too small, and if my breasts were pushed up any higher, I could use them for a pair of fleshy earmuffs.

"Yeah, well if there are any pornographers around, we just might get that one big break we've been looking our whole lives for," Critter joked as she finished adjusting the seam of her stockings. "Now, for the finishing touch." From the sack at her feet, she withdrew a tall bottle of liquor and twisted open the cap. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"But I thought... ."

"Not for courage, dear. For veracity. We can't just look the part. We've gotta smell it, too."

"Huh?"

"Watch the Mistress in action."

Tilting her head back, she took a long swallow of liquor, then did an all-over body shiver as she swallowed. "Ahh. That hit the spot. Here, have a belt."

"No thanks," I replied, waving the bottle away, and watching as Pony gave us the 'hurry up' sign. "C'mon, we've got to get moving."

"Alright. Just let me...there. Eau de Cuervo. What all the trollops in the low-rent district are wearing this year."

"Hey! That stings!" Some of the flying droplets had landed too close to my eyes for comfort's sake, and I felt myself tearing up from the fumes.

"Quit being a baby and let's get a move on. Time's a'wasting."

"Great," I muttered as she slipped an arm through mine and almost pulled me right out of my cheaply made shoes. "You really are drunk."

"Nah, just acting the part. C'mon."

One hell of an acting job, Critter, I thought to myself as she yanked her arm away from mine and instead slung it over my shoulder, forcing me to bear most of her weight as she swayed against me. Together, we tottered somewhat unsteadily toward the gate, taking care to make as much bumbling noise as possible so as to announce our presence to anyone who might be listening in.

"Hey Candie, look! There's a light on in there. Our prayers have been answered!"

"Prayers? What prayers?" Critter snorted. "Only prayer I got right now ish for another bottle. This n's ammost empty. Heloooo in there! Anybody home?" Striding up to the gate, she wrapped one hand around the bars and shook, giggling madly all the while. "C'mon, open up! Ish cold out here."

"Shhh," I whispered overloud. "You'll wake up the whole neighborhood."

"I wanna wake 'em up! I need more booze, dammit! C'mon, open up!"

Though the racket we were making should have caused an entire army to come down upon our heads, the darkened area beyond the gate remained resolutely silent and still.

"Mebbe they don speak English," I said, giggling a little.

"Course they do! Everybody does! Hey, in there! Como...como...como whatever. Open up, dammit!"

"C'mon, Candie," I said, tugging Critter's arm and beginning to feel a little nervous. "Nobody's home."

"Bullshit," Critter replied, shaking me off. "Course they are. I can see people movin in there. Yoo hoo! Boys! Open up and I'll show ya why they call me Caaandie."

The brilliant beam of a flashlight suddenly pierced through the darkness, blinding me for one heart-stopping second. "Beat it," came a menacing and heavily accented voice from behind the gate.

"Please, sir," I said, blinking rapidly and trying to see through the afterimages imprinted on my stinging retinas. "It's cold out here and our car broke down a mile or so back. Could we use your phone?"

"I said beat it. We don't got no phones here."

"Bullshit," Critter said, pressing her face against the bars. "Places like this got phones in the bathrooms. Jes let us in, willya? Jes a quick phone call and we're gone. Unless ya wan' us ta stick around for a little while and show you how grateful we are." Her purring voice trailed off suggestively. "Big strong man like you must get lonely out here in the middle of nowhere, huh?"

"Heh. Heh. You'll have to excuse my friend here. She's a little tipsy."

"I ain't tipsy. I'm drunk. And horny. C'mon, mister, help a gal out, won't ya? I'll make it worth your while." And with that, she upended the bottle and...well...what she did next to that bottle is something they named a movie after.

If we'd have been anywhere else, I might have been tempted to ask just how she'd come by that particular talent. Especially without triggering her gag reflex.

On second thought, perhaps it's better that I don't know.

I heard some shuffling from the darkness behind the gate, then the low murmur of at least two male voices speaking rapid Spanish. A moment later, keys rattled in the lock, and the gate swung slowly open.

The flashlight was turned off and the face of one of the men came in out of the gloom. "Come on in, ladies. I think we might be able to help you both."

Before we could step through, Rio darted between us. A few muffled thumps later, and two unconscious guards were being dragged outside the gate.

Pony hogtied and gagged them quickly, then slipped her arm through mine while Rio did the same for Critter. In the darkness, they could easily pass for the men they'd just disabled, being of the same height and build. Just two lonely guards escorting a pair of willing women into the compound for a hour or so of fun and debauchery.

"The garage is off to the left," Rio whispered. "You guys head over there while I take care of the other two. I'll come back when I'm done."

Pony grabbed my arm as Rio melted back into the darkness, and the three of us headed in the indicated direction, our pace no quicker than a somewhat leisurely stroll, despite the tension.

By the blueprints we'd been given, I knew the garage was huge and could house each of Cavallo's five cars with room to spare. It was also locked, but the muted tinkle of lock-picks being tossed to Critter let me know that that particular situation would be remedied rather quickly and without much of a fuss.

Sure enough, very little time passed before the click of a lock giving way sounded in the silence of the night. The door opened quietly, and our senses were assailed by the scents of motor oil and rubber. They were smells I was well used to, and having them there gave me a strange sense of comfort in an otherwise terrifying situation.

Once we were inside, Pony closed the door and removed a flashlight from the belt at her hip. Soon, the garage was bathed in a faint, white glow.

I looked into the shadows of the far end of the garage, then stopped, my heart freezing in my throat. "Pony? Shine the light down that way, will you?"

"Why?"

"Just do it, please."

Penetrating the shadows, the beam confirmed my suspicions. A black oil stain marred the pristine white of the garage floor like a spot of decay on an otherwise healthy tooth. "One of the cars is gone."

"Shit."

"What are we gonna do now?" Critter asked from her place on my right.