Join the Expendables?
Cole Shaw had never given it a real thought.
"I've actually got a better way," Cole said, smiling. "You join my team—then you can tell me."
Yin Yang was already on his recruitment list. In The Expendables 2, after Yin Yang, Ross, and the others rescued a wealthy Chinese hostage, Yin Yang dropped off the board; by The Expendables 3 he was working with Trench on higher-paying contracts, getting called in alongside Trench by the agency when needed. Money talked, and Yin Yang had always liked a bigger paycheck.
"So it looks like I invited you, but you're inviting me back?" Yin Yang said, deadpan. The invitation he'd tossed a minute ago had been casual—it was Ross's team, and Ross did the inviting.
"I rate you," Cole said. "And I can pay more. Double, maybe triple. As far as I know, you haven't formally signed on with Ross yet."
The pirate job had been snatched out from under them, which meant Yin Yang hadn't earned off it. The math tempted him—the most famous crew got the most work and the most money, which was why he'd said yes to Ross in the first place—but a better offer was a better offer.
He didn't agree on the spot. Walking away before his first Expendables op would be bad business.
"Think it over," Cole said. "You'll get more with me than with Ross." He recited his number. "Call me when you've decided."
He left. Yin Yang wasn't going to reveal the commission; there was no point hovering. If the target was Jason Tate, then starting with Jason made sense.
Cole sent Jason a text and left the campus.
Yin Yang returned to Ross and Christmas.
"How is he?" Christmas asked.
"Exactly as we guessed," Yin Yang said. "He's the merc who poached our mission. Skill set's odd—knife work's weird. Overall ability's solid."
He kept Cole's recruitment pitch to himself.
Ross was quiet for a moment, then said, "His connection to Jason Tate looks personal. He could obstruct us."
Christmas nodded. "His marksmanship's legit. On the freighter, the deck bodies were all clean gun kills. Even with those extra rounds later, he shoots at least as well as Gunnar."
"What do we do?" Yin Yang asked.
"Ignore him for now," Ross said calmly. "Have Toll Road keep eyes on him. If he interferes with the op—kill him."
"Copy," Christmas said. "I've scouted the lab. Heavy guard. Approaches are covered. Only viable entry is a vertical raid."
"We'll finalize back at base," Ross said.
That night, Jason Tate showed up at Cole's place looking punch-drunk on adrenaline and future money. He yanked open the fridge, grabbed a beer, flipped the cap, and chugged like a man who'd already spent his first million.
"Cole, listen—give it a month or two and I'll be a billionaire. I'll buy a villa in the best part of New York City, raise a few golden cats, and coast the rest of my life."
Cole frowned slightly. "So your experiment worked? Can you tell me what it is?"
Jason shook his head. "Sorry, man. It's classified. I can't. And don't ask—it won't do you any good."
Cole smiled thinly. "You clock the three 'maintenance workers' today? They were mercenaries."
Jason sat up straight. "Mercenaries? For me? Fuck."
He didn't ask how Cole knew—they had history. If mercs were here, it meant someone bigger was behind them.
"So tell me straight—what is going on?" Cole asked, voice flat. "I don't want to watch you die. If you want protection, I need the truth."
This time the crew sent were the Expendables. Cole didn't have the luxury of confidence. And even if Ross failed, the employer behind them would send others.
"I—"
The doorbell cut him off. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
They both looked at the door. The sound hung there like a tripwire, taut and waiting.