“To what end, mate? And why six-oh-five and not on the hour?” Thank God Lucky’s following the same playbook as me, but the rest will need more than my gut-level assessment.
“Sunrise.” Suds’ suggestion gets shot in mid-flight.
“5:43 AM. Sorry, boss.” As Rhonda shakes her head, our team leader clears his throat.
“Check deliveries.”
Slate's man in New York answers after a short delay. “… copy. Searching satellite images… Well, I’ll be dipped in… Sending feed.”
Viewed from a high altitude, a bug-like vehicle moves away from a town square and disappears under a forest canopy. At 6:05 in the morning, the same insect passes through a gap in Ledbetter’s thick wall.
“That’s three hours from now.” My heart rejoices.I'm coming, babe.
Suds pulls out his tablet, opens a map, and zooms in on a sharp curve in the road, about a mile from the estate. “I suggest we hijack their delivery here.”
“Affirmative. Move out. Stay outta sight.” At Slate’s command, we lift to our feet, lower our night vision goggles, and jog through the trees.
Sometime past dawn, we stand on the roadway and point our weapons at the box truck’s windshield. Behind the wheel, a pale, acne-covered teen holds his shaking arms in the air.
Using a maternal tone, Rhonda tells the kid she will shoot him if he so much as blinks. Once we’ve hidden all the cardboard boxes in the forest, we climb in the back and pray the Belarusian delivery boy doesn’t deliver us to the enemy.
Chapter 24
"A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf." ~George R.R. Martin
Gwen
The décor of Ledbetter’s living space reeks of money. Wide-planked oak floors shine to perfection under oriental rugs. Yellow marble countertops enhance the castle’s old-world charm in both the kitchen and the bathroom where I now hide.
When footsteps sound in the living room, my heart races.Dammit, I’m out of time.
Finding no useful weapon in the medicine cabinet, I squat and search under the sink. Behind the pink stomach liquid and the roll of bandages, sits a box of chocolate laxatives.
Thank you, Jesus!I barely have time to break off a piece before he rattles the door handle. “Time’s up, Guinevere. My cock is hard, and I’m tired of your games.”
Dammit. Dripping from the shower, I dress, slip the square into my back pocket, and take two deep breaths.
Calmer now, I place my mouth near the antique brass keyhole. “Would you pour us a drink? I’m a little nervous.”
“You’ve had two husbands. Surely, you know what to expect. Out. Now.” His angry tone should frighten me, but the mention of my ex-asshole, Farid, emboldens me.
I bested one evil man, why not two? Beyoncé angel, who’s been unusually quiet, comes to life. Find something to stab his jugular. Be quick about it. Go, go, go.
Recalling Axel’s self-defense lessons, I open a drawer, snatch a toenail clipper, and rotate the two-inch nail file to the open position.
With a white-knuckled grip, I hide the weapon behind my back. As I picture stabbing it into his neck, I open the door.
“Why are your clothes still on?” Two feet away, Ledbetter sits on the mattress, his brows furrowed.
“Half the fun is removing them, no?” My seductive smile must work because he responds with one of his own.
“Indeed.” His predatorial gaze strengthens my resolve.
I step forward and pray the tiny blade will suffice. If not…Oh lordy, this is it. Three, two, one…
I’m about to spring, then stop at the expensive bottle of wine in my peripheral vision. Sneaking the clippers into my back pocket, I saunter to the bedside table.
“Can I have a glass please? I’m not kidding. I’m so nervous. Surely, you would rather have me relaxed. Things will slide in much easier.” Eyes still locked to his, I unsnap my jeans.
