Page 30 of Wrecked
Heavy steps of Blade running back came next.
Sam formed curse words and lifted his head to spew them, then he slumped to the side and flopped on the ground.
Blade shouted, “Don’t close your eyes!”
Too late.
Chapter 9
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Wended the phone calland took a sip of his scotch while the engines on his Boeing BBJ Max 7 jet purred, ready to take off when he gave the order.
The Collector, a late-thirties underworld prodigy with golden hair and blue eyes of Nordic blood, sat in a plush seat across the table from him. The world-renowned kidnapper nursed a crystal glass of twelve-year-old WhistlePig bourbon. “We are good, ya?”
“Of course. Why do you sound concerned?”
“I am alive much longer by being concerned. I would think a Russian can appreciate one who is careful. I would never have made this trip were you not my best customer.”
Smiling with the confidence of a man who could pull anyone’s string and make them dance, W shrugged. “You were never in danger, comrade.”
“The woman heard our voices.”
“She is in many pieces, all of them little more than ashes at this point.”
Swirling his drink, the Collector frowned. “What do you wait for?”
“Confirmationeveryloose thread has been shredded.”
That caused the Collector to cease all movement. “Phone call was not confirmation?”
W had zero tolerance for being questioned. But he had future plans for the Collector and would clear up this one’s confusion. “I have many operations in progress at this moment. Do not question me again.”
Finally, the man who had arranged the capture of every person W contracted for in the past five years showed respect by lowering his gaze. “My apologies, vän.”
Friend?W had no friends, but he tilted his head in reply as if acknowledging their relationship as such. In the next moment, W received the second call he’d been waiting on. His earpiece prevented anyone from hearing the other half of his conversation.
