Page 3 of Zero Hour

Pat blinked as what Al-Jabiri was saying registered. “You killed Astrid? It was you who caused the car wreck?”

The terrorist shrugged.

“You killed her?” Pat repeated, his voice low and deadly.

The woman knew what was coming, because she put a nervous hand on Al-Jabiri’s arm. “Let’s go.” Her voice was soft, urgent.

Al-Jabiri just smiled.

It was rare for Pat to lose his temper, but the shock, the stark realization that this man had killed the woman he’d loved, hurtled him over the edge—and all he saw was red. With a roar, he lunged, slamming the bastard backward into an empty table. In seconds, he had his hands wrapped around Al-Jabiri’s throat, squeezing… crushing… cutting off his air.

He was going to fucking kill him.

The murdering scumbag deserved to die.

Al-Jabiri’s face turned purple.

“Stop! You’re suffocating him!” the woman shouted.

Pat barely heard her.

“You’re dead, you son of a bitch,” he growled.

Al-Jabiri’s eyes started to close.

“Get off him!” The woman clawed at Pat’s shoulders. He ignored her.

The door crashed open. Two men with guns burst inside, dressed like homeless vagrants. The other customers, most of whom had scampered to the far side of the restaurant and were huddling behind the counter, stared in horror.

“Boss, what the hell are you doing?” Viper, ex-SEAL and one of his best men, shouted.

“You’re killing him, Pat,” Blade, his head of operations said, in a more measured tone.

Pat didn’t care. The bastard was going down. He wanted to squeeze the life out of him, right here, right now on this restaurant floor.

Four strong hands hauled Pat off Al-Jabiri.

“He deserves to die!” Pat snarled, struggling to break free.

It wasn’t easy, but his men held him back. They were younger and more athletic than him. Stronger was debatable, but there were two of them.

“Fuck!” he roared in frustration.

The woman dropped to her knees beside Al-Jabiri, who was gasping for air.

“You almost killed him,” she snapped, green eyes flashing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” Pat shot back.

“We need to go,” said Blade, pulling him away. “Before the cops show up.”

Viper looked around at the cowering customers, then at his own tattered clothes. “Yeah, this is going to be a bitch to explain.”

Reluctantly, adrenaline still coursing through his body, Pat allowed his men to guide him into the kitchen and out the back entrance, but not before Viper darted back to the table where the couple had been sitting and pocketed a fork.

As they left, Pat turned for one last look. The woman was helping Al-Jabiri to his feet. As if sensing his stare, she turned and met his gaze head on. Her gaze was hard, accusatory, but there was something else in it—curiosity.

CHAPTER 2

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