Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
My brain blocked it out. All I saw was the livid target in the doorway, and he hesitated for one second. Fight or flight? He opted to sprint down the hallway, and I tore after him. Right before he reached the living room, I crashed into him from behind and sent us both tumbling to the floor.
“You can yell all you want—I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” I grunted.
The motherfucker was built like an enforcer. Not bulky from countless hours crunched at a gym but—whatever. Genetics, and holy fuck, maybe martial arts. He was fast. I tried to hold him down as I patted his pockets for weapons, and he growled and squirmed and planted a foot against the wall to kick himself away from the side. The jerky shove caused me to roll off him, and it pissed me the fuck off. Rage pumped through me, along with adrenaline, and I reached my limit. Right before he could climb on top of me, I pulled my combat knife from its sheath and pressed the very tip against his throat.
Everything went still. He breathed heavily and glared at me. “Who the fuck are you?”
I took a much-needed breath and regained control. Once I had him flat on the floor, on his stomach, I pressed the knife against his neck instead, and I sat on his ass. We would save the questions for later, especially his questions.
Ryan came up behind me, and he helped me cuff the man’s wrists.
The final thing I needed help with was Ryan holding Delgado down so I could zip-tie his feet. One around each ankle, then one holding the two ties together, allowing him to take small steps but no more than that.
“Go get the car,” I said, out of breath, and returned my knife to its sheath. I scooted forward again and sat on Delgado’s ass, and I brought out everything I needed to sedate the son of a bitch.
“I’m gonna search the house first. And you search him properly before you relax.”
“I will.” I filled the syringe, then pushed up the sleeve of his shirt. Who the fuck wore dress pants, a leather belt, and a fitted pullover in the middle of the night at home? If you didn’t change into sweats the moment you came home, we couldn’t be friends.
He flinched and cursed when I stuck the needle in his arm. “Tell me who you’re working for!”
How about no?
His English was as good as Elliott’s Spanish. As in, not just the language but the accent.
After I’d removed the needle and pocketed everything, I slid off him and rolled him onto his side. I tilted my head, ignoring his lethal glare. He didn’t fit the stereotype, but then again, stereotypes were stereotypes. They hadn’t done me any favors over the years. Delgado’s eyes—he had that condition. I never remembered the name. But he had more than one color. The outer rims were blue, and then it flecked into green closer to the pupils. A friend of mine from high school had one blue eye and one brown.
Ryan came down the stairs again and declared everything was clear. Then he went to get the car.
“What do you want from me?” Delgado gritted out.
Oh, I want you dead, buddy.
I scrubbed my face through the balaclava, getting a bit sweaty under here, and then pulled out my phone to give Squeezy a report. We were using her software in order to send encrypted messages to one another, and she hadn’t finished the code that would allow us to send pictures. Only she could send to us; she couldn’t receive them without us leaving digital dust behind.
“You’re American,” he told me. “I have no beef with the Americans—unless you’re hired by someone. You’re not DEA or FBI.”
I eyed him briefly, figuring there was no need to tell Squeezy how cut his features were.
We have Delgado. Height and age, established. In shape, solid frame. He has that eye condishon with two colors, blue in the outer rim, green in the center. Hair, black with some gray. He went down fairly easy, but we had the element of surprise. I think he may have martial arts in his CV. RQ and I will raid the place of tech before we go to our next location. ETA 2-3hrs. CF
Condition, condishon, condishion?
Fuck it, I couldn’t be assed right now.
CHAPTER 3
Joel Hayward
We will find you, baby. I swear to you.
I splashed some water on my face, then eyed my reflection in the mirror.
Fuck, I looked dead.
Elliott pounded on the door. “You gonna be in there much longer? We have an update from the others.”
Go fuck yourself, El.
Crew Finlay
Welcome to Italy, I guessed.
At this point, the Italian Riviera didn’t impress. Then again, it was still dark, and we were high up in the mountains. The highway stretched on forever, alternating between tunnels through the mountains and bridges in between the peaks.