Chapter Eight of the Story

Jerin flipped the phone closed. He was, it seemed, in trouble. He couldn’t believe Elliot—the person who had refused to get involved with the Agency until recently—had gone through great lengths to save him. Now, all he had to do was leave the gang’s hideout. Oh, this should be fun, he thought.
He shoved his right hand into his pocket and curled his fingers around the Smith and Wesson forty caliber. If anyone tried to stop him, he’d be ready. He doubted that the word would get to the hit men fast enough, but better safe than sorry.
Acting as if everything was normal, he strode cheerfully along the length of the warehouses Serpent called a base. Their hideout consisted of six warehouses separated by a road that went down the middle. It wasn’t much, but it was all Serpent needed. Once he was near the exit, one of the gang’s hit men appeared at his side.
“Going somewhere, Agent Swanson?”
Jerin yanked the gun out of his pocket and brought it around. Before the man could so much as blink, the agent had fired, the silencer killing the loud sound. He winced in pity as the man crumpled to the ground. He didn’t like killing, but it was necessary.
Quickly, Jerin broke into a run. He didn’t want anyone else to fall in step with him. It tended to be dangerous. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. On an impulse, he threw himself into a side roll. A bullet tore through his shirt’s sleeve and nicked his skin, leaving a straight cut. Clutching his bleeding arm, he stood up and turned.
A man of medium height and athletic build slowly lowered the gun he was holding a few inches. He had short red hair that stuck up slightly in the front and cold green eyes.
“Decided you over-stayed your welcome, Jerin?” His slight Russian accent betraying that the US was not his homeland.
“Zann,” Jerin replied cheerfully, “you missed.”
The Russian smiled. “You were lucky.”
Jerin knew it full well. Zann Kolzak was one of the most successful contract assassins in the world. He usually hit whatever he was aiming at.
He brought up his Smith and Wesson. Now, it was a stand-off—a “you shoot me, and I’ll shoot you” sort of thing.
It was then that a sleek, black Mercedes pulled up to the gate. The guard took one look inside and opened the barrier. Jerin knew it was now or never. He threw himself sideways and sprinted to the gate. Using the car as a shield—Kolzak wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot at a car containing the boss—he darted out the gate. Once free of cover, the man ran in a zig-zag pattern to make himself more difficult to aim at. There were several shots, but none of them hit their mark. Jerin disappeared into the city.
“Enough. Let him go.”
The assassin arched an eyebrow at the man in the back seat of the car.
Dante Vang smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kolzak. You’ll get to shoot at him again. I have a feeling he’ll be back.”
“Why do you think that? Besides, if he knows—“
“He doesn’t know what we’re doing.” Vang smiled. “If he did, the Agency would be knocking at our door already. As to why he’ll be back—” The man rolled the window father down and nodded to the seat next to him.
Zann Kolzak’s eyebrow rose higher, but he understood.

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For a fun and absolutely useless fact, Zann's last name is Russian for "slippery," and his first name is short for "Zander" which is sort of like Alexander. What? No, I did not name him after myself! ^.^