Page 112 of Holiday Hostage
It ended badly last time, and it would do so again.
“Then why the hell should I keep you alive?” Jack bellowed so loud the whole fucking building would have been able to hear him.
“You moron.” Payton’s ire rose, and so did her voice. “I’ve told you already. You’re too fucking stupid to listen, and that means you’ll never get your money.”
God, I wished she would take a minute to think about what she was saying. If Jack considered her a lost cause, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
“I’m going to enjoy cutting you into tiny bits. You have no idea how immensely I’ll enjoy killing you because it will mean Maverick and his team have failed. I’ll win, once and for all.”
“And you’ll be poor as fuck because you can’t be bothered to listen to reason.” Her tone dropped into something low and melancholy, something I didn’t understand until she spoke again.
“Please don’t do this, Jack. All it would take is five seconds to Google my name. Payton Rivers. Google my name, check that I am who I say I am, and call my father.”
Fuck Jack to hell and back for making her sound so sad and alone.
I’d never heard her like this, and I hated every word leaving her mouth.
She should never have to plead for her life.
Tarron’s exhale matched Reed’s furious expression. They looked to me for the go-ahead.
I rose from my crouched position and glanced through the tiny window.
A long, gray hallway stretched toward another door.
If my memory of the layout was accurate, that way led to the second exit, one blocked by a dumpster too old and rusty to move.
Two doors cut into the wall, one on either side.
One mentioned a boiler room, and the other was storage, according to the old sign.
Their voices were too distorted to know for sure which room they came from, but the storage room was closest and far enough away from the boiler room that we should be able to check it before moving on and while keeping the main exit blocked.
I made a series of hand motions, indicating we’d go in low and quick and head straight to the storage room.
Both men nodded, and I gripped the door handle. If it made a sound, we’d tip Jack off to our presence.
We squared up at the door, Tarron and I taking the front while Reed watched our backs.
“Please.” Payton’s fear and exhaustion tugged on my heart. Something scraped on the other side of the door. It sounded like chair legs on concrete.
I should know, I’d heard it often enough throughout my career. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Let’s go.” I jerked upright, Tarron and Reed on my heels. No more caution. We knew where Jack was, and we knew the danger Payton was in.
We had one shot to finish this.
I grabbed the door, noting that it might be locked, and twisted the handle.
Nothing. No sound, but it also didn’t open.
I stepped back and nodded at Reed.
Grinning like he’d been handed the winning prize, he reared back and kicked the door open, racing through and panning the area with his rifle.
Tarron and I burst in behind him, guns up and ready.
Protect Payton.
