Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I’m exactly where I need to be.
At exactly the right moment.
Always.
Giving the side of my face that’s feigning confusion a contemplative scrub, I repeatedly look in both directions as if lost. One hand lands on my hip while the other points, pretending not to know which way I’m supposed to be headed. I glance at my phone. Back up at nearby street signs. Down again. Dramatically demonstrate every tourist red flag to the two members of The Accountant’s security team waiting nearby in his SUV.
The one on the passenger side keeps a watchful eye unaware that I’m doing the same.
We need them taken out quietly to minimize the chance of our target being spooked.
Without backup coverage to assist in covering the other entrances and exits of the building, we need The Accountant to continue his typical routine, unsuspicious that the two men he’s expecting to protect him have been removed from the situation.
After one more confused look, I pretend to be overly exasperated and make eye contact with the guard.
I immediately toss an overly friendly wave attached to a mildly goofy guy wave.
“You look like Elmer Fudd without his shotgun,” Blu cackles in my ear.
“’Xcuse me,” my friendly hand gesture occurs during my cautious approach to the vehicle. “’Xcuse me, sir?”
“Should I be wery wery quiet?” my second in command mocks from our vehicle parked at the end of the block on the corner. “Are you hunting wabits, Elmer Wudd?”
I’m gonna be hunting him if he doesn’t shut the fuck up.
The male in the vehicle cracks the window just a couple inches which is all I need for plan A to be put in motion. “You lost?”
Propping one arm on the roof of the vehicle with the edge of my sleeve just barely hanging over the side, I lightly chuckle, “Yup!” Exaggerating my southern accent plays up my innocent nature. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah,” he grunts back, unaware of the odorless chemical currently being pumped into their vehicle. “What are you looking for?”
“Where the wabit is hiding,” Blu answers in my ear threatening to make my eye twitch.
I look down to minimize the amount of vapers capable of reaching my open mouth – since my nose has a clear seal of protection – yet continue on with the lost tourist act by motioning down at my phone. “Where the uh…hockey team plays.” More downward stabs are made. “I swear this thing jus’ has me goin’ in circles. I’m pretty sure I’ve passed that same homeless banjo player over there four times.”
“It’s-”
“And all I really wanna do is get a picture of the buildin’ for my boy, Hunter. He’s a big fan of the team.”
“Yeah, it’s-”
“Even hopes to play for ‘em someday. I always hoped he’d play football, his mama always hoped he’d play soccer but nope. That boy has his heart on hockey. I’ll tell ya somethin’ else-”
“It’s four blocks that way,” the guard aggressively interrupts, pulling my stare up to his. “Go to the end of this corner and make a right. Go four blocks. The road is titled Avenue of the Dragons.”
“Huh,” is grunted in fake amusement as I lower my arms back to my side. “That’s kind of fun!”
He rolls his eyes, closes the window, and motions me to move on.
“Thanks!” Another pretend warm-hearted wave of the drug free hand is given. “Really appreciate it! Have a great day!”
Cheerfully strutting away the direction I was told, I keep a grin plastered on my face and maintain my cover of the happy go lucky tourist. My eyes monitor the area of the fairly empty sidewalk – a situation we created by putting up caution construction ahead signs just out of their sight – and listen for confirmation from the man watching my six.
“And three…two…one…” A tiny pause precedes a snicker. “Night, night, wabits.”
I wait at the street corner for the light to change to one that indicates I can legally cross. Not because I give a fuck about that but because I need to continue to blend until they’re completely knocked out. “Status?”
“Snoozing.”
Nodding is done in tandem with me crossing the street to move to the rear of the vehicle which is where Blu is heading to meet me.
The instant I grant us access to the covered truck bed, he impishly questions, “Hunter, huh?”
“Your fault.”
“You mean my helping.” He reaches for his tactical vest while I peel away the nose strip intended to protect me from the sleeping agent. “And since I helped you-”
“Should we really consider you poorly actin’ out cartoons as helpin’?”
“How about you help me?”
Now free to breathe clearly, I reach for my own chest guard that’s honestly a rather safe than sorry sort of measure for our current capture mission. “With?”
“Handling Martindale and letting me handle The Accountant.”
“Seriously?” Securing the piece of gear in place is accompanied by a sarcastic stare. “You can’t handle her? She’s like a buck fifty in a soakin’ wet, sandbag bikini.”