Page 17 of Breathe
He stilled, watching and listening to the clip in its entirety.
Turning on his heel, Real walked back down the hall.
Entering the break room, the three guards glanced up at him.
Real stalked closer.
Without warning, he slammed the closest guard’s head into the side of the metal refrigerator. Knocked out cold, the man dropped like a stone.
Real jabbed a second guard in the throat with one hand and slammed his fist into the man’s nose. He heard a satisfying crunch before the guy fell away, tripped over the table, and toppled to his ass.
Real turned on the man with the X sliced into his chest.
“I…” the bloodied guard said, and Real grabbed the man by the throat. He was tempted to crush his windpipe, but refrained—just barely.
Hefting the fucker up from the chair, Real fisted the hair at the back of the man’s head and frog marched him out of the break room, down the hall, into the foyer, and toward the front door.
“What’s going on?” Stone asked gruffly, coming to the study’s doorway.
“Taking out the trash,” Real said as if it were an everyday thing.
“Okay…” Stone said slowly.
He hadn’t seen that look on Real’s face in months. Something had the former Navy SEAL in a cold rage and Stone was going to stay the fuck out of Real’s way.
Whatever the guard had done, he no doubt deserved it.
A noise from the far hallway sounded, and another guard stumbled from it. When a second guard hurried out and helped the first one walk, they both spotted Stone at the same time.
Stone squinted and then slowly jerked his head to the front door. “You had better beat it before he comes back. I’ll wire your last paychecks.”
He didn’t know what the fuck they’d done, but he trusted Real.
“What the hell?” Dave said, stepping up behind him in the doorway.
The man looked all sleepy and Stone was pissed that the scuffle had woken Dave from his morning nap. The man barely slept at night, and when he napped, Stone took the opportunity to sit near him and rest.
Dave looked over the two injured guards.
Stone drew his gaze from Dave.
Blood dripped down one guard’s face. Broken nose, Stone thought. The other was holding the side of his head, looking dazed.
“They fucked with Real,” Stone told Dave.
“No, we didn’t,” the guard with the bloody nose cried nasally, his voice hoarse.
It took Stone a second to process that before he spoke again. “Then you fucked with Azrael…and that’s the same as fucking with Real.”
“Stone will wire your pay. Don’t come back and don’t use me as a reference,” Dave snapped, stalking closer to grip the open front door.
Both men skirted way around Dave and disappeared outside. A second later, Real came back through the front door.
“Where did you throw him?” Stone asked.
“Out the front gate,” Real told him and stalked toward the stairs.
When Real was halfway up, Stone called out. “Are you going to tell us what happened?”
