Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
That got him. A simple question, and suddenly, he can’t look at me anymore. Be careful how you answer.
He clears his throat before shrugging his thin shoulders. “I was only doing what I was told. The boss... he’s not the kind of guy you disappoint.”
“That’s not an answer, Dave.” Another heavy sigh follows the folding of my arms. What I wouldn’t give to snap his bones like toothpicks. One at a time. Slowly. And if he lost consciousness, I’d inject him with some epinephrine to wake him up and start again. Nobody fucks with me and escapes unscathed.
“The kid needed to learn a lesson.”
“And you were the one to teach it to her?”
“Not her. The other one. Her brother. He needed a message.”
Something tells me I know what that message was going to be, but I want to hear it from him. “And that message was?”
“We were gonna, you know....”
I’ve had enough. “Say it before I rip your throat out.”
His head snaps back, eyes widening. “Kill her. We were going to kill her and leave her. He needed to know not to fuck with us.”
But she’s still alive because Griffin caught them in time. “And you didn’t get a chance to do that. Tell me the truth. Once this boss of yours finds out you didn’t complete your mission, what will he do? Do you think he’ll send someone else after her?”
“I don’t know. Probably. He doesn’t leave loose ends hanging.” No, he wouldn’t, because a man in his position can’t afford to be lazy. No doubt he’ll send somebody else to her home or her job. He might make it look like a random crime. A mugging gone wrong, maybe, or a drive-by. The possibilities make my head spin.
“Thank you very much for telling me what I wanted to know.” I take a moment to savor the way his eyes light up with fresh hope. I’m sure he imagines himself at home in no time. He thinks he’ll spend tonight in his own bed, in whatever shithole he calls home.
Which is why he lets out a pained, almost feral noise when I head for the door without another word hinting at his release. “Wait!” I glance over my shoulder and can’t help but snort at the sight of him crawling across the floor like the animal he is. “I’m supposed to go home! I told you everything I know! Please, please!”
I only step through the door, then lock it behind me. The opening at the bottom of the door allows me the pleasure of hearing his agonized wails. Let him wail. He was going to kill her and dump her body like she was nothing, all because some nameless, faceless voice over a telephone told him to do it. I know what it means to follow orders, but I can’t find a crumb of sympathy. Not when Griffin told me how terrified she was when he caught up to the car.
Tank lifts his eyebrows, waiting for his orders. “Give him another couple of days,” I decide. “Then implant a tracking device and let him go. Knock him out, do what you have to do, so long as he doesn’t know it’s there.” He nods, wearing a grim expression, and I set off for the elevator, going through a list in my head of the men who would benefit from having me bugged.
Was Dave telling the truth when he said he’d never met his boss and didn’t know where he worked? We’ll soon find out. Because if that crazy, screaming waste of life has the first clue where to find the man pulling his strings, that’s where he’ll go as soon as he’s set free. He’ll go running back to his master, pleading for mercy after being captured and held captive.
And I’ll be able to watch his every move.
But I’m not in any hurry. He can think it over a little while longer.
TEAGAN
I’ve never been what you would call a paranoid person. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories and all that. I don’t go looking for hidden meaning in random events. Sometimes, there is no hidden meaning. Maybe it was losing Mom and Dad that cleared a lot of things up for me. Life is what it is, and that’s it. Looking for anything else is the same as asking to lose your mind because that’s exactly what happens.
But no matter how many times I tell myself to stop making things up, the hairs on the nape of my neck have stood straight up pretty much all day. Something’s wrong. Somebody’s watching me. Crazy, I know. I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t help. Throughout my shift at the grocery store, while I’ve been stocking canned goods and checking out shoppers, there’s been no shaking the feeling that if I turn around fast enough, I’ll catch whoever has observed my every move all day.