Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Voice,” I say impatiently. “Plus, your hips.” I gesture toward her waist. With a nod at Regan, I repeat my command. “Read it.”
After a moment Regan begins reading.
Blond-haired, brown-eyed female.
Age 20 per admission.
Acquisition location: Cancun.
Date: 16 March.
Condition: Good health. Strange affect. Refuses to look people in the eye. Has strange convulsions. Possibility of self-harm. Claims extensive knowledge of computers and Internet systems. Offered to hack into Butterfield Bank, Caymans, and obtain rival bank account numbers. Challenge was accepted. Succeeded. Refused to do other work unless received own room and promise of no touching. Requests were granted. Suggested partnership with AB organization.
“And there’s a couple of email exchanges. ‘AB’?”
“Aryan Brotherhood,” I explain. “They work with the cartels to move a lot of drugs. The U.S. has one of the highest consumption rates of illegal drugs in the world.”
“Enough?” says the snitch.
It is. I can’t explain the relief that surged through me when Regan read that. It’s her. My high-functioning autistic sister. So brilliant. “Enough.”
I pull out the velvet bag. Inside is a two carat musgravite, a stone that Petrovich had given me in payment for taking down his uncle. It’s worth close to one hundred grand. I’d pay twice as much for this intel. The informant can barely pick it up with her gloved fingers. As she is looking down, I put the Ruger against her temple.
“Daniel,” I hear Regan say in shocked tones, but I ignore her. I don’t understand how she can be surprised by human behavior, but it’s another sign of how she didn’t let her imprisonment ruin her. She still cares enough not to want to see anyone else injured. Like I said, Regan’s real danger is to that lump under my left breastbone. It’s starting to beat again. I’ll figure out if that’s good or really fucking bad later.
“Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to take your package and go back to your base. You can say you killed us. You can say you tortured us. Neither of us will be around to tell a different story. But you try anything, and I’ll blow your brains out right here. I give two shits that you’re a woman. Understand?”
She nods and my gun follows every movement, which she registers with widened eyes. “That’s right. I’ve used this gun before many times. I’m not going to ask for your piece, because I suspect you’re going to need it, but you’ll be on the floor with a bullet through you before you can even get the weapon out of your front pocket. So be smart and you’ll live at least ten more minutes.”
“That’s what you think,” she sneers, and then I see a faint red dot on her forehead before everything goes to hell.
REGAN
It takes two seconds. One second, I’m watching the pretty woman’s face, wondering why there’s a dot from a red laser on her forehead. The next, there’s a weird ripple effect, and her forehead explodes into a red tidal wave of shredded flesh, and my face is splattered with something wet and hot.
“Down!” Daniel shouts, his hand swatting my shoulders almost before I can even process that I’m wearing that girl’s brains on my face.
I slam to the dirty, stained concrete floor, the air smacking out of my lungs. The guns and knives tucked into my vest jab my ribs, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be bruised to hell, but I’m alive. For now. The girl’s body has tumbled to the ground nearby, and blood is pooling close to my leg. Daniel’s not pausing for a moment, though—he’s snaking his body along the ground, heading for the wall. Once my initial shock wears off, I follow him. Close as paper, he told me.
We make it to the side of the building, and Daniel crouches behind a refrigerator that predates Nixon. Another shot rings out as I worm my way to Daniel’s side, and something chips off of the nearby wall.
I give a frightened whimper even as Daniel takes my hand and hauls me up next to him. I plaster my body against his, trying to stay undercover as much as possible. He turns away from me, though, and I’m forced to cling to his back as he pushes the refrigerator door open to give us more cover.
Another shot rings out, and the refrigerator door bounces wildly. Daniel shoves it open again, and this time it stays open.
They know we’re behind it, and they’re watching for us.
“What . . . what . . .” I try to form a question that will encompass everything that’s going on, but I’m failing.
Daniel shakes his head, gun in hand, his gaze scanning the front of the old grocery store like he’ll be able to see something. “Don’t know why anyone ever decides to snitch. Snitches always get plugged.”