Traitor (The Traveler Chronicles Book 3) by Dennis Green

Author:Dennis Green [Green, Dennis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Happy Hour Publishing
Published: 2020-02-28T22:00:00+00:00

Trav’s uniform disappeared and was replaced by a loud Hawaiian shirt and pork pie hat. I blinked. This outfit was more ridiculous than the uniform, and for a second, I thought I was still dreaming.

But the knife looked real enough, as did the blood on Sam’s face, although his mustache had disappeared.

I balled my fists and lunged forward.

He smiled and swung around, bringing the knife to bear. “Finally.”

The lab where Sophie and I stood grew indistinct as I focused on the version before me.

“C’mon,” Trav taunted, gesturing with his fingers. “Show me something I haven’t seen before.”

“Wait for me!” came a voice, and I felt a touch on my arm.

And then I was fully in the lab with them, the fog that had hovered around the edge of my vision clearing.

A triumphant grin split Trav’s face as I appeared. Sam was tied to a chair just as he had been in my dream, bleeding from his nose. Morgan stood pressed against the wall, next to…

Mary.

My hand went to the Desert Eagle tucked into the small of my back, but the other man quickly stepped away from Sam and grabbed Mary by the wrist. He laid his knife on her graceful neck.

“Ah-ah,” he admonished. “Let me see them both.”

I raised my hands, palms out.

“Very good.” He looked at Mary. “See? That’s the advantage we have. I know what he’s going to do in every situation.”

But then he frowned.

Sophie popped into view behind me, one hand on my elbow, the other still holding Noah.

Seeing his mistress, the cat jumped to the floor and made a beeline for Morgan, which took him right into Trav’s legs.

“Goddamnit!” he snarled, kicking at the cat.

But taking his eyes off Mary was a mistake. She grabbed hold of his knife hand with both of hers, pushing it away from her throat. Like a ballerina, she let her momentum carry her around in a half turn.

Snapping her leg up as she spun, she kicked him right in the balls.

He dropped the knife, clutching at his crotch. By that time I was in front of him. I snatched the Desert Eagle from my back and swung it underhanded, connecting with his chin. His head snapped up and he swayed back and forth, blearily trying to focus on the barrel of the oversized pistol, which I now pointed right at his bleeding nose.

His hat tumbled from his head, revealing a knot of hair gathered tightly underneath it.

I whipped the gun back up and clipped his chin savagely again.

“That’s for pulling a knife on Mary,” I said as he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Once he was down, I kicked him in the stomach.

“And that is for the man bun. Not to mention that shirt. What hell-stream did you come from, anyway?”

With Manbun Trav now down for the count, I rushed to Sam.

“Are you okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” he said as I untied him. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He pulled up the hem of his shirt and dabbed at his bleeding nose.

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