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“What the fuck happened here?” he screamed.
“We don’t know. They were late replacing us in the tunnel, so we came up to see what was happening. This is what we found. They’re all dead by knife wound.”
“Knife? Wh-what? No. No, this can’t be happening.” The two men stared at one another and started to walk away.
“Where are you going? You have to stay. Get back down in the tunnel,” said Sutton.
“Sir, we’ve been down there twenty-four hours. We need food and sleep,” said the man.
“Too fucking bad! I don’t have time to argue with you right now. Get back down there. You can have your pick of the girls and extra drugs. Just stay.”
“Fine,” said the man, heading back through the house.
“Wait! You can’t go yet,” he said. “Move the bodies.”
“Move the bodies?” said the second man. “But we didn’t kill them. We shouldn’t have to move them.”
Sutton was so frustrated he pulled his pistol and shot the second man. Turning, he pointed it at the first one.
“Okay, okay. I’ll move the bodies,” he said. “It’s gonna cost an extra hour with Bridget.”
“Whatever. Take two hours, I don’t give a damn. Just get rid of those bodies!”
Sutton went inside, checking to be sure the house had been cleaned as ordered for Rivera’s arrival. What a fucking mess! The guns and drugs were gone, his hostages were gone, the men nowhere in sight. The only thing he had left were his little geniuses in the tunnel and the hope of killing Rivera. He saw East’s pickup truck pull into the driveway and stormed out the front door to meet him.
“Where in the hell have you been?” he yelled.
“I warned you once before about yelling at me. Don’t do it again. I was doing my job. Your bomber is buried beneath the crawl space of a house.”
“The crawl space of a house,” he repeated. “You idiot! That’s where my weapons and drugs were stored! Everything I had!”
“You stored everything in one place?” smirked East, shaking his head. “That doesn’t seem very smart to me, Mr. Sutton. I mean, everyone knows not to put all your eggs into one basket. You have to spread it out.”
Sutton was fuming. The unnatural shade of red in his face made East think he just might drop dead at any moment, saving them all a lot of time and money.
“Go. Just leave,” said Sutton. “Be here tomorrow by four. Rivera will be here at five.”
“Okay, cool. But if I were you, I’d pick up this place. It’s a mess. What’s all the dark stuff on the grass?”
“Blood,” muttered Sutton.
“Maybe get someone to water the lawn. Speaking of, where is everyone? I usually get harassed by the lackeys around here.”
“They’ll be back,” said Sutton, looking around the lawn, then up and down the block. “I’m certain they’ll be back. It just may take some time.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Sutton. Just have my money ready tomorrow when I kill Rivera. The bomber is dead. I’ve killed Fuentes. One more, and I leave.” East began walking to his truck, then heard Sutton yell his name.
“Wait! East. Wait. What if, what if I paid you triple to stay a few extra weeks. Get my new security team up and running. Teach them.”
“No, thanks. I have places to be,” said East. “Besides, your team isn’t loyal to you anyway.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sutton, frowning at him.
“Who do you think your bomber was?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“That was pretty clever making him believe that one of his own was the bomber,” smirked Tanner. “He’s not going to trust anyone.”
