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“Took you long enough,” Marshal muttered to Real.
“I had to fucking locate you,” Real muttered, removing Donald’s phone and anything else Real deemed could be used as a weapon.
Real lifted Donald from the floor with one hand and locked the guy in the cell. With the grip of his Ruger, Real smashed the keypad into pieces.
“We good?” Mark asked, returning to the doorway.
Real walked over and tapped his phone to the phone Mark held out and the delivery man’s eyes widened.
“You never saw us,” Real warned.
“Saw who?” Mark smiled and left the room.
“Fill me in.” Marshal finished one burger, grabbed another, and took Donald’s weapon that Real held out to him.
Marshal checked the clip and turned to Donald, who had sat his ass on the bench in the cell. Blood dripped down the man’s chin from where he’d bitten his lip.
“When you least expect it, I’ll be behind you,” Marshal promised, holding Donald’s gaze through the bars. “Where’s my fucking cell phone?”
“Anthony has it.”
Without another word, Marshal walked out.
He was still in Colorado or what appeared to be with the cold snapping through the far closed door.
“We aren’t far from Langston’s estate,” Real said as they walked outside together. Sitting up right next to the door was the guard who’d supposedly been using the toilet.
“Dead?”
Real rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Good. I don’t want to leave a trail of dead bodies if I can help it,” Marshal said when they reached a black SUV. Although, he wanted to kill Donald.
“And if you can’t help it?” Real snorted as he started the car.
Marshal snapped his seatbelt in place. “Then I’ll kill them all.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Real drove out of the parking lot and Marshal discovered they were in a warehouse district.
“Get Ryker.”
“He’s out of jail and at the Brick Estate. I doubt you’re walking in there.”
“Anthony has my fucking phone.”
“Tell me about Anthony,” Real muttered as the SUV barreled down the freeway.
“He’s CIA. And a fucking pain in my ass. I’m going to…” Marshal squeezed his hands into fists, picturing Anthony’s neck in them.
“A phone call to your cousin can end all this fucking shit.”
“He’s busy working,” Marshal said and glanced out the window at the passing scenery.
William Caldwell had taken office as the current SecDef a few years ago after Dave left office.
“How’s Dave?” Marshal asked about the former SecDef. Dave was supposedly retired, but could never seem to get completely out of things.
Real tossed him a glance before returning his eyes to the road. “Good, I guess.”
