For some reason, Vinny was reminded of a snake that was about to strike. Apprehension prickled over his skin.
“I have been here all along.” Yang’s eerily soft smile widened. “Keeping an eye on you, Vincent.”
It was odd to hear his real name spoken aloud. He’d beenVickfor so long he’d kind of gotten used to the name. What was odder still, was the ominous note in Yang’s voice.
Vinny felt icy fingernails drag up his spine.
“What happened?” he asked Yang, trying to tamp down the terror growing inside him. If Yang was a snake about to strike, then Vinny was the rabbit backed into a corner. “How did that D.O.D woman—”
His words died in his throat when Yang pulled a syringe from his pocket. Before he could utter a word, Yang injected whatever was in the syringe straight into his IV bag.
Horror and self-preservation mixed together and took over. Vinny reached for the IV in his hand, prepared to rip it out. But Yang stopped him by grabbing his wrist in a grip as hard and as unforgiving as iron.
For such a small man, Yang was unimaginably strong.
Vinny opened his mouth to scream, to alert the doctors and nurses to his plight, but Yang slapped a warm, dry palm over his mouth, stopping the sound from traveling more than a few feet. Even still, the muffled yell flayed Vinny’s parched throat raw.
He tried shaking his head. But Yang’s hand stayed over his mouth. He tried flopping like a fish—adrenaline had dulled his pain—but Yang threw his body over the top of him, keeping him pinned to the bed. And then…
He felt it.
Felt that first warm rush hit his veins. Felt his limbs grow heavy. Felt his breaths grow shallow at the same time the pounding of his heart slowed to a dullthud.
Within moments, he was paralyzed. Unable to move. Unable to look away from Yang’s face as the man stood over him, smiling that terrible smile.
What he had mistaken as hardness in Yang’s eyes was actually coldness. Deadness.Evil.
Vincent Romano’s last thought before he left this world was…
The mysterious people in the car were right. I was a fool.
29
Black Knights Inc.
Sam was tired.
No. Not tired. Tired was what he felt at the end of a hard day’s work, a two-a-day baseball practice, or a fully geared-up training exercise.
What he felt now wentbeyondtired. It was a fatigue that reached all the way down to his blood and bones.
Which was probably partially to blame for the impatience in his voice when he barked, “Sir, it wasn’t Eliza’s fault.”
They’d hopped on a call with the chief of staff five minutes after walking through BKI’s front door. And for the last thirty minutes, he’d listened with gritted teeth as the old fart raked his daughter over the coals.
The poor woman had been gripping the locket around her neck so hard, Sam worried she’d bend the thing.
“Hannah ismyfriend,” he continued. “I’mthe one who made the decision to help her. Eliza was simply being a good teammate by keeping her cards close to her vest until I knew for sure what hand we were playing.”
They were seated around the conference table in the war room. Ozzie had placed laptops in front of them for their video conference call. And it was the middle of the day, but Becky had laid off the heavy machinery so as not to disturb them. Which meant the only sounds to break the silence that followed Sam’s declaration were the gentle hum of a drill being used down in the shop and Boss’s muffled voice as he took a call in his office.
“I still should have been informed.” Leonard Meadows’s jaw was hard on the screen. But not as hard as his eyes.
Yeah, well, wish in one hand and shit in the other, and just see which one fills up faster, Sam thought coldly.
He’d never been a big fan of Eliza’s old man. The dude was a politician through and through. Always out to save his own ass or advance his own career.
“You’d have told us to hand Hannah over to the FBI and let the feds deal with the threat to Texas,” he countered.
