Page 100 of The Auction Block

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What do you got?"

"White male, late forties, strong build. I'm scanning the CCTV within a twenty-block radius to see if I can find him."

"Let me know when you have something."

"Of course."

I grab the letter off my desk, and hurry back to the living room. Rhett and Jameson are there, each standing by a window, peeking through the curtains every few seconds.

"Boomslang, give me a cell phone scan for every call made within two blocks of this apartment in the last three hours."

"You got it!"

"This is why you need the guns." I thrust the letter at Blake and pull out my cell phone, pressing one of the speed dial buttons.

"Monroe."

"It's Williams. We got another threat. Directly from The Taurus this time. The apartment is on lock-down."

"Shit. Those bastards don't waste time, do they?"

"No, sir."

"What do you need?"

"I'm going to have Rhett call you in fifteen. We need weapons. We can't hold this place if they storm it with what we’ve got."

"Done. Tell him to give me a list. I'll have them sent to you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Viper," his tone softens.

"Yes . . ."

"Be careful."

"I always am, sir." I grin.

I end the call and walk to the kitchen. Blake's gaze pulls at me as I load my sniper rifle, slinging it onto my back. Picking up my shotgun, I load it and walk into the living room.

"You're confined to this living room for the next twenty-four hours. Stay away from the windows. If anything happens, take the fire escape stairs to the spare SUV parked next to it. Keys are in the center console. Go to Monroe in DC."

"What about you guys?" Shannon's voice breaks.

"If this apartment is attacked, you leave us behind and go. Our job is to keep you alive at all cost."

I focus, trying to keep my breathing steady as tears spill over and run down her cheeks. Steeling myself from the emotions churning inside me, I trade places with Rhett. As he moves to make his phone call, I notice movement on the roof across from us.

"Jameson," I whisper, nodding toward the assailant.

"I see him." Jameson brings his rifle up, looking through the scope. I follow suit. "Do you see the tat?"

"Yep. I'm going to crack my window. I don't want to shatter the glass."

The man's neck is accented by a blue-flamed Taurus tattoo. Slowly, I open the window enough to lay the barrel of my rifle outside, focusing the crosshairs on his head.

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