Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 114577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Shit,” Marlow gasped. “Where were—?”
Brian put his finger to his lips and Marlow clamped his mouth shut. Brian maneuvered behind the kid, resting his heavy palm on his shoulder to steady him. Brian heard him inhale deeply and let it out slow. When the car dinged at the seventh floor, Marlow pushed the cart out, Brian following close behind. Duke, Quick and Ford were a few doors down from the target, their backs pushed tight against the wall. Marlow’s pace slowed and Brian didn’t push him. This was a lot for a college freshman to take in.
When they got to room 720, Marlow placed his cart behind him like he’d been instructed and knocked on the hotel room door. “Room service.” Marlow’s voice held no hint of anything being out of the norm.
Brian heard footsteps and inched even closer. He closed his eyes, tracking the steps in the room. When they were right at the door and the lock disengaged, Brian rushed forward, swooping up Marlow as he went, removing him before Clarkson opened the door, as promised. His team, flew past him in a blur, charging into Clarkson’s room.
“Recovery agents! We have a warrant!” Duke said loud enough for the entire floor to hear.
“Get down!” Ford yelled.
“Robert Clarkson get down!” Quick’s deep voice carried down the hall.
Brian’s first thought was that, ‘thank God’ they had the right guy. Then his next immediate thought, as he heard more commotion was: shit. Is this white collar criminal resisting? Brian had to get back to them. He could hear scuffling and things breaking. Brian elbowed the stairwell door and gestured for Marlow to get back to the restaurant and let his chef see he’s fine.
Brian hurried back down the hall, disregarding the terrified yelps from some nosy people who’d stuck their heads out of their doors. Someone had to have called hotel security by now, but when Brian got to the room, Ford had Clarkson on the floor with his knee in his spine.
“You calm? You gonna stop resisting?” Ford asked coolly. Clarkson wasn’t getting the huge man off him until he settled down.
He was yelling and screaming about not wanting to go to jail, and that he was sorry, blahblahblah. They all did this sniveling act. Duke had the warrant in his back pocket, just in case anyone demanded to see it, including their jumper.
“You guys got lots of company coming your way, elevator and stairs. Let’s move,” Dana said in their earpieces.
“Let’s go,” Duke barked.
His brother hauled Clarkson from face down on the floor and Brian got his first good look at him. The man had shaved all his facial hair, but it was him. Four weeks they’d hunted this jerk and all the while he’d been only twenty minutes away. They moved down the hall, making good time. In and out was their creed. Clarkson tried to dig his heels in, but Quick and Ford had no problem hauling him, the tips of his leather house-shoes dragging across the expensive carpet.
“Are we clear?” Duke asked before he opened the stairwell door.
“No. Take car three. It’s descending to you now,” Dana said.
Car three was already at floor sixteen, the other two were ascending rapidly. Hotel security. As soon as the elevator doors opened, they hustled inside, keeping their jumper pinned tightly between them. His hands were zip tied but unrestricted legs were unpredictable. They couldn’t put the restraints around his ankles until they got him into the transport. They’d effectively dodged the security; when they got to the ground level, Dana pointed towards the emergency exit of the restaurant. “Go, go, go,” He urged.
A few people were in the lobby but not many were paying attention. They knew how to move fast and quietly. Brian’s plan was almost fully executed, and they were just about home free.
“Not so damn fast,” an angry voice called from several feet away. “You think you’re just going to get away with this? You took everything from me. My uncle was all I had, goddamn you. My only family! You leave me with nothing!”
Brian narrowed his eyes at the troubled man approaching them in an all-black suit which appeared as though it’d been slept in for the last three days. As if he’d been on a stakeout. His hair was overgrown and oily, and he ambled along like he was in pain. Brian noticed the evil glint and his intent to do wrong. That look was unmistakable. It only took a split second for Brian to recognize him, it was Max Wright, their jumper’s business partner’s nephew. The one who’d been scoping his house and had led Brian to the hotel. He was a man with his own motive and Brian feared it had nothing to do with Robert Clarkson going to jail. Brian growled, not liking this. His brother turned and looked at him. He didn’t need to sign or mouth his concern; his brother recognized the warning all over his face.