“I know who sent you. I have everything I need from you already. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now?”
No response.
I cock his own gun before pressing it to his temple. “You’ve got one more chance to answer me.”
“I have a message from Palo.”
“No, you don’t.” It’s then I know how he found me.
And that Palo is most likely dead.
Fuck.
Dread filters from the center of my chest, circulating throughout my veins as I keep my mask in place while the implications of what’s next pummel me from within.
Pulling the man to stand, I lean in on him, pressing all of my weight against him. A pained whimper comes from his lips.
“It’s broad daylight, and you have the audacity to try and shadow me? Did you not know who you were coming after?” I click my tongue.
“You were not supposed to know I was here.”
“Passons au fran?ais parce que tu ne peux pas être aussi stupide.” Let’s switch to French because you can’t be this stupid. “Tu devrais travailler ton anglais.” You should work on your English.
“Je déteste l’Amérique. Je ne reviendrai pas.” I hate America. I will not return.
“Tu seras enterré ici si tu ne coopères pas.” You will be buried here, if you don’t cooperate.
“Je devais signaler où tu étais et avec qui.” I was to report where you were and who you were with.
“Et tu l’as fait?” And have you?
Fear flashes in my incompetent assailant’s eyes. It’s too fucking late.
And that’s the crux of the situation. As it always has been. If I had remained alone, there would be nothing to report. This would have been another day at the office in my old life, but my circumstances are different now, and the stakes are much higher. This morning, I had time in abundance. Time to try and help her understand my reasoning for my decisions that led me to the place I’m in. And for the last three weeks, I took for granted the freedom of being an average Joe.
“Have you sent pictures?”
Another nod, and I do my best not to snap his neck as I keep him pinned and lift his phone.
“Quel est le mot de passe?” What’s the password?
He rattles off a four-digit code, and I check his messages to see an active thread with a familiar area code. He’s been reporting for the last two days, his most recent text sent minutes ago to which he got no response. I make a note of the frequency of their texts and pocket his phone. The image of the snapshot of Cecelia at the entrance of her café has rage taking over.
Using my elbow, I black him out to keep from getting rupture marks on my knuckles for Cecelia to inspect. Once he’s unconscious, the two birds I trusted on watch, Oz and David, quickly drag him into their back seat. I scan them closely as they nervously load the car, each of them glancing over their shoulder to me. Both are dressed in plain clothes, with muscular builds, but Oz has a mohawk, which is eye-catching and distinctive in this town or any fucking other.
These are Russell’s most prized recruits?
He should know better.
Just as they close the door on their unconscious passenger, I step up to them both, seething.
“Why was your text too late?”
Oz is the first to speak. “We weren’t sure—”
“You weren’t sure?” I clench my fists to keep from lashing out. “Captain Obvious has been here for two fucking days,” I look between them. “I don’t give second chances. Not at this post. ID him and bleed him of information until you’re sure he’s working here alone. Call Russell, get six more birds here, two to replace the two of you. I want them here today. I don’t give a fuck how. He’s in your custody now and your responsibility until I say so. Let me down on this,” I snarl, “and you’re fucking out.”