Page 64 of North

Okay, he definitely needed his weapon.

He headed down the hallway…and paused in the doorway to the kitchen.

A man in a black shirt poured something across the hardwood floors. The liquid gleamed in the morning light.

Oil?

The flames flickered on the gas stove.

Selah, where are you?

And that’s when the man turned. He spotted North, and for a second, they simply stared at each other.

“What’s your plan here, Martin? You going to torch the place and drive away?”

The man seemed…well, not like the notorious villain North had heard about—the man who’d tried to murder the president, who’d worked with the Russian Bratva to release smallpox at Disney World, the one who’d used an EMP bomb to take out Air Force One, the same man who’d tried to explode a dirty bomb on a small European nation.

No, this man looked like a pharmaceutical salesman, clean-cut, dark hair, dressed like a man who owned a house in the suburbs, with a nice family he took camping on the weekends.

Except for the look in his eyes, the flash of darkness, fury.

And then the smile. “North, I presume?” Then he held up a tire iron—probably the same one he’d used to get into the house.

Oh goody.

Martin lunged at him, and North stepped away, deflected Martin’s arm, but the man rounded, his stance easy.

North took back the part about the suburbs. And the nice family.

In fact, suddenly the man morphed into some version of Bond, James Bond, with his arrogant smile and small shake of his head.

And then, just like that, the man lifted a lighter.

Only then did North realize he stood in the middle of the oily floor.

Martin leaned down and touched the lighter to the oil. It burst into flame just as North leaped from the space, into a dining area. Fire bloomed, racing across the accelerant in hungry lines.

Then the room flashed into flame, and North rolled under the table, protecting his head, waiting for the explosion.

Not yet.

He rolled out and spotted Martin scrambling up the stairs.

Where—

He glanced at the flames, the black smoke, and took a breath.

Then he plunged through the fire, running hard, slipping and then catching himself on the counter.

His feet smoked, but he stamped it out as he followed Martin up the stairs.

He spotted him in the master bedroom, slamming doors open. And just like that, North got it.

Ruby Jane had either escaped the house or…or she had a safe room. And Martin was going to smoke her out.

North charged into the master and tackled Martin, full speed. They crashed into an end table, sending a Tiffany lamp shattering across the wood floor. Glass crunched under their bodies as they rolled.

The man’s elbow caught North’s temple, the same spot he’d bruised when he’d been thrown from the horse. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and Martin pushed off him, rolled to his feet, and kicked him.