EMP Retribution (Dark New World, Book 8) - An EMP Survival Story by J.J. Holden & Henry Gene Foster

Author:J.J. Holden & Henry Gene Foster [Holden, J.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-13T22:00:00+00:00

- 13 -

2330 HOURS - ZERO DAY +686

“GOOD MORNING, SWEETHEART,” Carl said. “Beauty sleep is over. Unless you want me to slash your Achilles tendon in half.”

The big thug cracked one eye open, then both. He huffed. “Man, it’s just biz. There’s no profit in killing me now.”

Carl squatted down on his heels, just out of the man’s kicking range. “Maybe. But I was asking about a girl, you see—”

“I can’t tell you nothin’ about that, man.” The man lifted his chin up, jaw set tightly, his gaze direct and unflinching. That was odd, given that the thug was facing down a man who’d just killed both his goons and knocked his ass out quick.

Well, maybe he just needed the right motivation. In a blink, Carl whipped his combat knife from his waistband and plunged it through one of the man’s fine Italian leather dress shoes. The change in his cocky expression was tremendously gratifying.

Over the resulting agonized scream, Carl’s battle-trained voice carried clear and even, “Perhaps you should reconsider.” He twisted the blade, its tip jutting two inches past the top of his victim’s now-ruined shoe.

The man stifled his scream and took rapid, deep breaths through his nose as he clenched his jaw tightly. Through his teeth, he said, “You’re going to regret doing that. I’m a big man around here.”

Carl painted a confident smile on his face, though he really felt nothing at all. He was in work mode, and his training had taken over. That made it a lot easier to do things like this. He said, “If you’re such a big man here, then you know what I need to know. Just tell me, and I’ll let you live. If you don’t talk, though, your problems will escalate quickly.” He spoke in calm, even tones, like a casual conversation with some friendly stranger.

“You ain’t got time to work me over, man; people be coming soon. Just let me go, and I’ll give you twenty minutes to leave my town alive.”

Carl smiled and whipped the knife out from the man’s impaled foot, then plunged it into his inner thigh and drew it out again.

The thug cried out in pain, grabbing the wound; spurts of blood pulsed into the air from between his fingers.

“Looks like you have roughly two minutes before you bleed out.”

Ignoring his victim’s cries and curses, Carl stood and walked over to one of the dead goons and pulled the man’s belt off. He held it out in front of the thug’s face. “If you tell me what I want to know, you get the tourniquet. Otherwise, I’m going to sit here until the light leaves your eyes, and then I’m going to find your boss for Round Two.”

The big, tattooed thug paused for all of three whole seconds before the words spilled out of him. “Don’t kill me. I swear, I can help!”

Carl paused, waiting.

“You’re looking for women, I know who has them.”

“If you’re lying to me, it’s going to take you days to die.

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