Twisted Truths by Rebecca Zanetti

Author:Rebecca Zanetti
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2017-11-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter

21

Denver waited in the empty parking lot in the crappy subcompact he’d stolen from a junkyard on the way, since his SUV was toast. He was taking directions from the gang, and he wouldn’t be needing speed.

He’d also broken into a luggage store on the way and stolen a case large enough to hold the auction money. Hopefully the gang would think he’d combined the three briefcases into one case. He’d also left money at the store for the case as well as the broken window. Now here he was.

A rusty sign had fallen to cover the door to the ramshackle building. Ice and very fresh snow blanketed the deserted parking lot with hills and trees spreading out on the other side. There wasn’t another building in sight, thus no streetlights. At the predawn hour, night still ruled, and the snow still fell lightly. It was a good spot for a meet, but so far he couldn’t sense anybody but the ones he’d brought with him. Even the cops were on standby more than a mile away.

Malloy’s arm had continued bleeding, but he’d insisted on having a cop buddy pick him up so he could remain on the periphery—a mile in the other direction. Noni was safely in his backseat along with Tina. Nothing would happen to them.

So he kept vigilant, his super-hearing tuned in. A phone started to ring.

He slid his window down and listened. Over by the sign. “There’s a phone,” he said quietly, using the ear communicator. “I’m exiting the vehicle.” He stepped into the freezing dark, eyeing the area around him before stalking over to the door. A burner cell phone had been taped to the back of the sign. He lifted it to his other ear. “Yeah.”

A male voice came over the line. “Get the money and walk out to the main road. Leave this phone on the ground.” The line went dead.

He dropped the phone, grabbed the one case, and strode through thick snow to reach the icy road. Nothing. Five minutes passed. Then another ten. He kept still, banishing any thoughts of being cold. If nothing else, having been genetically spliced to be strong, he could handle time in freezing weather. Even so, his ears started to burn a little.

Twin headlights finally cut through the dark fog down the road.

He widened his stance.

A small truck came into view, pulling alongside him. Keeping his face calm, he opened the passenger side door to face the barrel of a sawed off .22LR rifle. A kid of about twenty, gang tats down his face, stared at him from the driver’s seat. His aim remained steady. “Take off the clothes.”

Denver looked around. Tension rode him, but he hid it. “It’s ten degrees.”

The kid shrugged. “Or I shoot.”

Oh, he could take the gun from the little fucker in about two seconds. Denver tugged off his leather jacket, tossing it behind him. Somebody had better grab it—he’d had it for years. His pants and boots followed. Then the shirt and bulletproof vest.

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