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I fucking knew it. The cocksuckerishere. Emma better be, too. If she’s not, if he’s stashed her somewhere else, I’m going to rain down a world of hurt on that prick-assed motherfucker. Make him suffer every unimaginable pain known to man.
Though bloodthirsty vengeance pumped through my veins, I remained calm and cool on the outside.
“He said for you to leave it here and he’ll pick it up later,” the guard relayed, holding the phone away from his mouth.
“Sorry, man. No can do. My instructions are he’s gotta sign for it,” I said, repeating the same line I’d used before.
When he apprised Wesley of the condition I could hear the cockbag screaming and cursing through the damn phone. Anger crawled across the guard’s face. Clearly, he wasn’t a fan of Wesley, either.
I flashed him a sympathetic cringe, then leaned in as close to the mouthpiece as I dared and said in a loud voice, “If he doesn’t want to sign for it, I’ll just take it back.”
The guard grinned and gave me a thumbs up before ending the call. “He’ll be right down.”
“Works every time.” I chuckled, darting a glance at the huge, decorative clock behind him.
Under the pretense of making room for the next guy, I stepped to the side until I had a clear view of the elevators. The weight of my Glock, tucked in the back of my slacks and pressing against my lower spine, made my fingers twitch. I had no clue how long it would take before Wesley stepped out of the elevator. All I knew was I had to distract the guard before the prick made it across the lobby.
Thankfully, it was a big-assed lobby.
Each second ticking by felt like an eternity. Anticipation and anxiety ate a hole through me. I was overanalyzing everything. If I didn’t quit and get my shit wired tight, I was liable to fuck up my on-the-fly plan.
This isn’t a plan, it’s an op…the biggest mission of your life, supplied the voice in my head.
It was. And I needed to prepare for it, exactly as I had every other assignment I’d led my men through.
Dragging in a deep breath, I cleared my mind and mentally donned my combat gear.
Focused on every sound around me, I kept my head on a swivel—tracking the elevator, the guard, and the people outside passing the building.
The soft ding of the elevator gonged through my ears.
Stare glued to the conveyance, I held my breath as the doors opened and exhaled as Wesley stepped out.
Show time.
I glanced at the guard, lost in some paperback, then gasped dramatically and rushed toward him.
“Holy shit, did you see that?”
“See what?” the guard frowned.
“Some dude just snatched some old lady’s purse out there,” I screeched, pointing toward the sidewalk.
“Oh, hell. Not on my watch,” he growled, running toward the door.
“Hurry. Go get him. I think he knocked her down.”
As the guard rushed out the doors, I pinned Wesley with a fake smile and quickly ate up the distance between us.
“Sorry about the signature, man…but rules are rules,” I said, tucking the box under my arm with my left hand while retrieving my Glock with my right.
“I didn’t order anything,” he bit out impatiently, tilting his head to read the address label. “Hey, what the fuck’s going on here? That’s not me, you idiot. You’ve got the wrong nameandthe wrong address.”
“Oh, I got the right name and the right place,” I replied with an ugly smile as I shoved the barrel of my gun against his side.
As the blood drained from his face, Wesley glanced down at the gun, then back up at me.
The abject terror in his eyes paled in comparison to the rage thundering inside me.
