Hawke's Prey by Reavis Z. Wortham

Author:Reavis Z. Wortham [Wortham, Reavis Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-05-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 46

Texting is a young person’s way of communicating, but I did the best I could do. Keeping an eye on the door, I finished and pushed send. The skinny blue bar at the top of the screen grew longer.

Perplexed held in missing Norge

3 Ed fleur courts loo

The instant before the message went I saw the misspellings and the damn autocorrection. I typed again.

Hot Dogs.

Dammit!

Hostages

I tried again and hit send.

on 3

Send.

Dammit!

The battery icon in the upper-right corner showed it had dropped below twenty percent. I hoped Ethan would figure the rest out, but there was no time to retype the whole thing. What I wanted was to call and talk to him in detail about what I’d found. I wasn’t sure, but I remembered one of the kids saying that texting took less juice.

How the hell can it keep going down? I haven’t made any calls.

I reached for the doorknob as the phone on the conference table blared with that annoying business ring that’s supposed to be less jangling. I was coiled as tight as a mainspring, and unwound the same way. I bet my feet lifted three inches off the floor. I yanked the cord from the wall, cutting off the next ring in the middle of the tone.

Two steps back. I cocked my hat and put my ear against the door. Hearing nothing, I reached for the knob the exact second it twisted from the other side. The sight scared the pee-waddlin’ out of me. I stepped inside the swing with my back to the wall. Lady Luck was still with me because there was two feet of space behind the door with nothing back there but a hat tree wearing a dusty gimme cap.

Whoever was on the other side didn’t enter the room like I would in the same situation. Any lawman is trained to first check between the jamb and door to see if anyone is hiding back there. Instead he pushed it open and followed his nasty little MP5 inside. I backed up until the door hit the wall, leaving me standing in that small triangle of space.

The guy pulled up sharp at the sight of the ripped-out phone cord.

I stepped out at the same time the ceiling collapsed. Something big and heavy landed on the conference table with a wallop in a cloud of dust and wood. The startled guy snapped an MP5 to his shoulder and froze, processing the sight of a fellow terrorist groaning and covered with plaster, dirt, and insulation.

He recognized his buddy and laughed loud and sharp while the swan diver groaned and thumped his heel against the table, struggling to suck air back into his lungs.

“Que idiota! You fell through the techo!”

I never did like a smartass.

I took two steps, reached around under his chin with my right hand, and jerked his head up and to the right as hard as I could. At the same time I dropped my weight yanking downward. I wasn’t sure twisting his neck up and back down would do what I wanted, but it worked better than I imagined.

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