“Fucking baby,” quiet guy curses and stands off the wall. He takes a gun from the other guy’s waistband, and I can see the silencer. “Booker said we’ve got to see if she’ll talk first.”
“Not happening,” the loud guy scoffs, butting his cigarette on the building wall. “Don’t let me know if you need help.”
“Whatever,” the second guy opens the door and goes inside.
From their conversation, I’ve learned a lot. There are likely only two of them, making my job easier. They only have one gun between them, at least with the silencer. And Di has a few minutes left.
She is usually capable of defending herself, but bound, gagged, and tired from her ordeal, my assistant is a sitting duck. I have to hope she keeps that guy talking long enough for me to get inside.
When in the Philippines for a long assignment, I studied their martial art called Kali. The teachers focused on self-defence, but I graduated to weapons after a few months of proving myself. I learned how to snap a man’s neck, but it takes incredible force and just the right angle. I don’t have a stick, or time for a slow death, but I do have a knife. Opening the blade, I wait only a few seconds for my opportunity to strike.
When the loud guy turns to lean on the wall, pulling out a lighter before cupping his hand around a blunt, I almost roll my eyes at how easy this will be. Pulling the hat I’m wearing lower in case of cameras, I move from behind the car. Creeping up behind him in my rubber-soled shoes, he doesn’t hear me coming.
Without touching him, I reach my hand around the man to slice through his jugular vein. He flails and I lift my leg to kick the back of his knee. Blood is pouring out, and I make sure to stay behind him to avoid getting any on me. Clutching at his neck, I realize I don’t even know his name, which is rare for my kills.
Leaning down to whisper in his ear, I pat his pockets for other weapons, finding a pocket knife. “If you touched a hair on her head, I’ll find your family and take my time with their deaths.”
Loud guy gurgles, his eyes widening, but no words come out. Guess he’s not so loud anymore.
Kicking between his shoulder blades, he falls to his face in the pool of his own blood on the dirty sidewalk. Opening his knife so I have two weapons, I use my elbow to open the unlocked door. I’m wearing gloves, and if I play this right, I can stage the scene to look like they killed each other.
The warehouse interior is dark, with an enclosed entry-way. Closing the door behind me with a resoundingbang, I take the only path forward. There are empty offices that look years out of use, dust on every surface, before an arched opening leads to the bigger space.
“That you, Swansea?” Quiet guy can be loud too, it seems. I can’t see him yet, but I follow the sound of his voice to a room built at the back of the building where I see light. “Thought you didn’t want to get your hands dirty?”
Inching closer to the door, I wait just outside. When he doesn’t hear a response, the sound of feet shuffling closer reaches me. Before he even registers I’m here, I stab him in the gut, aiming for the gastric vein.
“What?” He stumbles before straightening, to take me in. Remembering he has a gun, he raises it towards me. “Who the fuck are you?”
Without wasting my time on a reply, I drop the knife I used on his friend and knock the gun from his grip. Hand-to-hand training is the Arnis side of Kali, and I easily send his gun clattering to the floor before he can get a shot off.
“Who I am doesn’t matter. Your friend is bleeding out on the sidewalk outside. You might want to go to him and call for back up.”
The guy rushes toward me and I sink his buddy’s knife into the other side of his gut. He’ll bleed out internally soon enough, but I’d rather he die next to Swansea. I’ll put the knives in their hands to set the scene and hide the evidence.
After he stumbles out of sight, I finally move to the door and take in the sight I’ve been hoping for since her alarm went off three days ago.
“Who’s there? Is it you, Mac?” Di’s eyes are covered and her wrists are chained to the wall. But she’s alive.
Kneeling beside her, I take off the blindfold and get out my lock-picking kit. “Yeah. It’s me.”
“I knew you’d find me,” she slurs before her head lolls to the side. I curse and work faster.
Di is alive, but I don’t know how much medical care she needs. I have to get us out of here and hope my driver doesn’t ask too many questions.
Chapter twenty-five
E
Twenty-fourhoursafterMacwalked out of my Dad’s place in Manhattan, and I’m staring at the ceiling of another bedroom. This one is in the Hamptons, where everything is in shades of white, gray, and light blue. The view from the window is in the same colors when the sun is out, but it’s pitch dark out. I can hear the waves lapping on the stretch of beach accessible from the property.
It’s technically my room, but with no sign of my personality. The bed I’m in has a cushiony, white comforter, and there is a patchwork quilt at the end, but no one’s grandma made this one. Just like his other properties, everything is about appearances to Thomas Miller.
Making him look bad is a mortal sin to my dad, and I’ve done it one too many times. I thought getting cut off was the worst point in my life. Figuring out how to do adult things while paying for necessities I never noticed before. Struggling to pay my phone bill while getting sous chef jobs where I could sneak food. I didn’t like how hard it all was on my own.
So, I should be happy I’m back with my dad.
No longer needing to scrimp and save. Having a clean room with a comfy bed and food to eat. I should be reveling in my good fortune.