“It’s a shame.” Ramirez pauses. “You almost got past my defenses.” His eyes narrow. “Almost. You’re smart, resourceful. A waste with someone like Earl, but with me, with a little mentoring, you might prove useful.”
I blink. Then laugh—sharp and humorless. “You always try to shoot your employees before hiring them?”
He lifts a shoulder. Not quite apologetic. “Shows me what they’re made of.”
“Not really the employee benefits I’m looking for.”
He actually chuckles, the sound dark and easy. It’s unnerving how calm he is. “Loyalty is overrated. Fear motivates people.”
“Well, I’m not looking to work for a psychopath willing to sell out his own country.”
“You think I’m selling out my country?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “My dear, you think I’m the villain? I’m leveling the playing field. You don’t think our government won’t do the exact same thing I’m doing when they get their hands on my mineral?”
I look at the laptop. “Uncle Sam’s bidding right now?”
He smiles. Slow. Sinister. “No.” He tilts his head. “They weren’t invited to the sale. Too much red-tape bureaucracy to dip into America’s pockets. But you’re not seeing the bigger picture.”
He’s talking too much. Explaining his plan like I should be impressed. But men like Ramirez don’t narrate their strategy unless they’re planning to bury the witness. If I don’t do something now, I’m not walking out of here.
My gaze flicks to the brick. It’s too far. Running for cover would just give him a moving target. I track his position, the way his finger rests against the trigger. I need to stall.Buy time so he won’t see it coming.“Global warfare not big enough?”
A flicker of annoyance crosses his face before his expression smooths back into that eerie calm. “This auction?” he says, taking a step closer. “It’s history in the making. And every name on that ledger—the buyers, the countries, the clients—they’re mine now. I own them. They—”
I move. Fast. My elbow snaps up and knocks his wrist to the side. The gun goes off—crack!—and the shot slams into the steel column behind me. I drive my knee into his leg, reach for the gun, anything—
But he’s stronger. Faster.
He slams into me and I go flying, landing hard on the uneven slab. My palms scrape across crumbled mortar and loose gravel, the sting blooming instantly. My breath punches out of my lungs. My ears are ringing, my vision swimming, but I force myself to focus—on him.
Ramirez barrels forward, gun leveled at my chest, his steps deliberate, intent evident. “Such a shame.”
Thwack.
The sound makes me flinch—sharp and quick—but it takes a second to register it wasn’t a gunshot. Ramirez’s body lurches forward and collapses face-first into the concrete. Behind him, shovel in hand, stands Ben. Dirt-smeared. Bloodied. And wearing the kind of smug grin that could probably be weaponized by the Department of Defense.
I exhale, breath catching in my throat. “About time you showed up.”
Ben drops the shovel with a clunk. “You shot me.”
It’s then that I notice the dark bloom of blood on his left arm, staining his shirt.
“He was going to shoot you first,” I say, brushing my hands against my pants. “I just... sped up the timeline.”
Ben raises a brow, offering his uninjured arm to pull me up. “So you did it to save me?” he asks, voice low and warm, wrapping around my spine and daring my knees to hold me steady.
I bite my lip, not bothering to hide the grin. “Absolutely.”
“Seems like you enjoyed it.”
“I’m not saying I didn’t.”
His brow lifts in amusement. “Whatareyou saying, Billy?”
I lean in, whispering like it’s classified. “That it gave me immense satisfaction to shoot Craig.Freaking.Miller.”
Chapter 43
Ben
