The older man’s knees cracked when he bent to place the six-shooter on the floor. They cracked again when he stood and gingerly kicked the weapon away.
It didn’t sail to the far wall like O’Toole’s had. But it was out of reach, and that’s really all JD wanted.
“Now you,” JD snarled at the mechanic.
“You’re not going to inject her,” Britt Rollins grumbled. “You know if you do, I’ll shoot you.”
JD’s galloping heart stuttered. Had he read the situation wrong? Did Rollinsnotshare Agent O’Toole’s softer feelings?
Again, there’s only one way to find out.
“Is that a risk you’re willing to take?” he challenged as he subtly, ever so gently tightened his grip on the syringe.
The mechanic’s eagle-eyed gaze sharpened. JD knew he’d hit the nail on the head when, with a harsh curse, Rollins crouched and placed his gun on the floor before kicking it toward the far wall.
JD couldn’t resist getting in one good jab. “That’s a good little grease monkey.” He winked before transferring his attention to the guard.
He wasn’t actually concerned the man at the desk would shoot him. The asshole’s hands were shaking so badly that even if he squeezed his trigger, JD figured his shot would veer off in some crazy direction.
Still…the twitchy fuck would have the upper hand if he was the only one armed. And JD needed to be the one with the upper hand if this was going to work.
“You too.” He hitched his chin toward the uniformed man. “Drop your weapon.”
The guard glanced around as if looking for permission from the others.
“Don’t look at them,” JD snapped. “Look at me. And do as you’re told or any death that happens today will be onyourhands.”
The guard’s large Adam’s apple bobbed as he gingerly placed his weapon atop the desk.
“Now, back away with your hands in the air,” JD commanded.
Once the guard obeyed, he glanced around the room at all the hands lifted in the air.
Progress, he thought, and then he moved on to the next stage of his plan.
“Right. Now, I’m the only one who will be moving, capiche? If one of you fuckers so much as blinks before I make it to the front door, Agent O’Toole gets it in the throat.”
“Go ahead and run like the rat you are, Wilkes,” Rollins taunted, his voice dripping with malice. “You won’t get far. Not from me.”
“Not from me either,” Keplar swore. His face was shiny with sweat.
JD figured his former partner was about ten seconds away from having a massive coronary. And that’d be just fine. One less shithead to deal with.
“I do enjoy a good game of cat and mouse,” he sneered as he shuffled sideways, keeping his back to the wall of windows and dragging O’Toole with him.
An SUV was parked out front. They had called for it earlier to transport Knox and Sabrina to a safe house. Now, it would be his getaway vehicle.
He’d need to ditch it within a mile or two. No doubt it came equipped with a tracker. But as long as he put some distance between himself and the field office, he could disappear into the city.
It was funny. Most people thought when criminals went on the run, they chose to vanish inside dense forests. But the truth was a big city—and the millions of faces inside it—offered far better camouflage.
With the cartel’s help, and with the money he’d squirreled away over the last decade and a half, he could cross an ocean and buy himself a new face, a new life, and a new name.
It wasn’t how he’d hoped to end his career as a federal. He’d hoped to keep playing his part until he could retire with a government pensionandthe cartel’s cash. But he’d always known discovery was a possibility. And he’d planned accordingly.
He just needed to escape this fucking lobby.
The glass doors leading to the street seemed a million miles away. He could feel the seconds ticking down, the world closing around him. His hands were clammy, his mind a blur of calculations. Each step toward the exit felt heavier than the last, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t falter even though Agent O’Toole wasn’t exactly cooperating.
