Page 11 of Shockproof

“I-I-I demanded half of the payment now or it wasn’t gonna fucking happen. Few minutes later…th-th-they asked for the banking information.” His wincing when attempting to suck in air increases. “Few minutes after that…and…and…there was a shit ton of money in my offshore account from The Agama Foundation.”

“The Agama Foundation,” I mindlessly echo, unfamiliar with the company.

For the moment that is.

Choosing to come after my woman gives me all the motive in the world to getvery fucking acquaintedwith them now.

“Huh,” Reynolds unpredictably grunts and inches a little closer. “I’ve heard that name before.”

Delaying the speed at which my attention soars in his direction isn’t possible. “Where?!”

His retort is attached to a mindless shrug. “Dontknow.”

“What. The. Fuck.Do you mean you don’t know, Reynolds?!”

“I mean,” he tosses his hands innocently in the air, “I’ve heard it somewhere I just don’t remember where. Or why. Or when. Or-”

“How about you fuckin’ figure that shit out?!”

“Roger that.”

“And you,” my narrowed vision returns to the assailant strapped to the seat in front of me, “where’s the keycard you used to get onto the property?”

“Back p-p-p-pocket.”

“And the burner phone?”

“C-C-Car.”

“Keys?”

“Fr-fr-front,” his gasping grows in volume, “poc-c-cket.”

A single nod of acknowledgement appears before I tilt my head to the side in a taunting fashion. “Chest feelin’ a little tight?”

He attempts to nod.

“Heart feel like it’s beatin’ a little fast?” My body lowers itself to a squat. “Maybe a littletoo fast?”

Crackling noises multiply in numbers as he pushes himself to reply. “Yes.”

“You’ve got a punctured lung.”

His eyes enlarge at the same time he fights to draw in a bigger breath.

“Sounds like it’s on the left side.”

Panic pierces his gaze further prior to him repeating the previous action.

“Interestin’ thing about havin’ a punctured lung? It’s typicallynotan instant death sentence.”

Relief makes the mistake of flashing in his expression.

“But tryin’ to kidnap my woman?Is.” His jaw barely has time to twitch before I’m ramming my fist into his ribcage on his right side, splintering the already sharp, severed pieces into several more. Keeping his broken bones wedged against the rigged metal, I angle my curled fingers upward, using the momentum and fragments to perforate the aforementioned organ. “I give you six minutes.” Tears begin to fill the brims of his swollen lids prompting me to push the shards in deeper to ensure maximum suffering. “Three to four if you start strugglin’.” I rise to my feet and toss an order at Reynolds, “Get that keycard and his keys and sweep-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he cautiously interjects, disbelief dancing around his open mouth expression, “did you really just kill a guy with his own fucking ribs?!”

The first set of bloody knuckles is removed without blinking. “Like I told Guggenheim, I’m not jus’ trained tosavelives, Reynolds.” Yanking off the second pair occurs next. “I’m trained totakethem.”

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