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The one-armed killer gestured with his weapon, cautious to keep his distance.
This caused her to shiver again. The one thing she so often counted on was being underestimated by others.
But this man wasn’t making that mistake.
“Tom?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Go.”
“Are you...did you kill Janice Lochhead?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Who?”
“On the boat in the Keys.”
He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Some critters got to her. She’s dead. Now move.”
It was like he was commenting on the weather. The complete indifference in his tone when speaking of a dead woman only sent more shivers up her spine.
But what else could she do. Her knife lay on the ground now, dripping red against the metal. Her body armor wouldn’t stop a bullet to the neck. And the one-armed killer was watching her without blinking. She had a strong suspicion that if she tried anything, he’d instantly drop her.
“Move,” he said again.
And this time something had changed in his tone. There was no time to debate.
She shivered, the ocean spray speckling her face. She swallowed and pushed into the bridge, her arm cold against the chill glass.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“And another thing!” Warbucks was yelling, his gun wagging where it jammed in his waistband. “Don’t you dare eventhinkabout contacting any of your buddies at the DOJ...” The babbler trailed off, glancing towards where Tom pushed the stranger ahead.
He’d been examining her for a few moments before capturing her. He’d found it somewhat amusing, nostalgic even.
She moved like a SEAL. She killed like a SEAL.
He hadn’t seen many women back in his day. But he couldn’t help remembering his own, bitter experience. The training exercise from an explosive gone wrong. His missing arm. Other parts of him. The eventual decision that it had all been his fault.
A political hatchet job. He scowled now, prodding his gun into the base of the woman’s neck and sending her stumbling forward.
She didn’t resist his goading. And now, the woman bumped against the mayor’s sister. The second lady yelped, twisting, her hood shifting as she gasped, “P…please! Please don’t hurt me!”
“I found someone sneaking around,” Tom said quietly. He didn’t even look at Warbucks.
The moneybags behind the operation was staring. He frowned. “What the hell is this, Tom?”
Tom shrugged. “She’s a SEAL.”
“Retired, technically,” Cora muttered.
“Shut up! Shut the hell up!” Wardell screamed.
She complied.
Warbucks, in his big, puffy jacket, marched forward, his downy, soft hair fluttering. “Well...kill her, Tom. Get her off my boat. Are others coming? Are...are cops on the way?”
Tom shrugged. “Are they?” he asked, jabbing the woman again.
“Probably,” she replied. “I can check.”
