Page 46 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

He sent his response text to Fox, brooking no argument.

Need proof.

Morin waited a few seconds while the bartender processed his credit card for the night’s tab. Evidence that he’d been here the whole night. Should he need to prove it.

After he signed for the charges and slid off the bar stool, one last text came through from Fox. A thumbs-down emoji this time.

The phone rang.

Morin picked up. “Yeah.”

Fox was slightly breathless, as if he were moving fast. He demanded, “Payment in full. Now. You know the rules.”

“So do you,” Morin replied, struggling to keep the panic from his reply.

“Send full payment or suffer the consequences.”

Morin said nothing.

Fox exhaled heavily, his voice jerky, as if he might be running up a steep incline. “You have a wife, Morin. Kids.”

The threat to his family was unmistakable.

Morin’s breath stopped, depriving him of oxygen. His heart rate tripled.

Trembling made conversation impossible. He became lightheaded, dizzy. Pulsing pain pounded his chest hard like a dozen cannon balls shot from close range.

On the line, he heard a heavy door close, and Fox’s conversation became terse and less cryptic.

“You have access to CCTV. You can find a better image of the journalist if you need it,” Fox said. “His face will be all over the local news soon enough. Use your resources. Get the proof you need. But send my money now. When I have it, I’ll find the scientist and the drone. As we agreed.”

Stalemate. No proof, no money. No money, Fox quits. Right here. Right now.

Westwood was probably dead. Morin had seen the lump.

He had no reason to believe Fox had lied about the identity of the body.

Killing Westwood was Fox’s job. A skill Fox had mastered long ago. He’d never failed before.

Beyond that, Fox was at least as ruthless as Audrey. Maybe more.

Fox would kill Morin’s family if he didn’t pay. Morin was certain of that.

But Fox couldn’t survive without protection from Brax. The assassin business often led to vengeance and Fox had made too many enemies over the years. Morin was certain of that, too.

Indecision was killing time and leading them no closer to resolution.

Morin took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “The journalist is done?”

Fox swore under his breath. He seemed preoccupied again. “Of course he’s done. I promise you that.”

Morin climbed onto his seat at the bar and signaled the bartender for another drink with a shaky hand.

He was more afraid of Fox’s threats to his family than Audrey’s vengeance. His first attempt to respond was little more than a croak.

Morin cleared his throat and tried again. “I’ll send payment now.”

“See that you do,” Fox said. “I’ll be in touch after I’ve found the scientist.”

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