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“I gave Miriam the tunnels and South Munroe, and that you were meeting the jet in Monterrey. But that’s it. That’s all I told her.”
He said it as though it were nothing. As though he’d shared minor, throwaway information about the team. A muscle in Mace’s jaw began to twitch wildly. Three times he’d almost been killed, because of this man. His friend.
“What else did you tell her about us, about my team?”
Glen’s eyes flickered between them, calculating how much he should give up. Mace’s fist shot out, hitting his jaw. There was a satisfying crack.
“Fuck!” Glen spat out a tooth. “We have a deal!”
“I said I wouldn’t kill you. Not that I wouldn’t hurt you. You were thinking of holding back information. I want it all.”
“Fine. Fine.” He licked his bloody lip. “I told her your team appeared three years ago, from nowhere. You have no background. None of you. I told her nobody’s heard of you in the Coalition Countries. It’s like you appeared out of thin air. I told her you can somehow get through the Red Zone. And that you have a base somewhere between here and Mexico, but I didn’t know where. I told her you were the best in the smuggling business.” His look said they should have been pleased he talked them up. “That’s it. That’s all I knew. That’s all I told her.”
Mace turned to his sister, knowing she had let her senses loose—the ones she’d gained from her animal. She nodded once. The bar owner was telling the truth. Sandi would have known otherwise. But from the look on their former friend’s face, he definitely held back something more.
“What else?”
Glen’s eyes narrowed as though he was still trying to figure out what he could get away with. Mace withdrew the knife he kept strapped at his waist and tossed it in the air. Like he’d said, he wouldn’t kill him, but that left a whole lot of space for inflicting pain.
“I had another contact.” The bar owner rushed to get the words out. “Sandrine Cherbourg, she wanted to know about the scientist, too. I told her about Monterrey and the jet.”
That explained the second team. The leader of the Southern Territory had been after Friday and the information in her head. Sandrine had been making a power play. A poorly staged one at that. He flipped the knife, letting his eyes roam over Glen as though looking for a good place to stick the blade.
Glen’s skin turned gray. “I told them about the poison the scientist took. I told them she was on a deadline to get the antidote.”
“Who did you tell?”
“Miriam Shepherd, Serge Abramovich.”
Fuck, the whole world was looking for Friday. This mess was much bigger than any of them had imagined. Whatever was in the scientist’s head was obviously a threat to all of the Territory leaders.
“You told them she needed the antidote for Interferan-X?”
“Yeah.” Blood ran from his mouth and down his jaw. “I overheard when she was talking to Striker.”
“You overheard?” He arched an eyebrow. Glen had been at the other end of the room during that conversation.
The bar owner looked away. “I have all the tables bugged. Now let me go. That’s everything I know, all the information I sold. I swear.”
Sandi shook her head. “We know it isn’t everything. We want every detail you have concerning Friday Jones.”
Mace was done with this shit. Enough prevaricating. He swung his arm and embedded the knife in Glen’s thigh. His scream was a high-pitched wail, even though the knife hadn’t hit anything vital.
“No more,” Glen shouted. “I’ll tell you everything. The only other thing I know is that Miriam Shepherd sent her lapdog to La Paz to deal with the woman. He took a team with him.”
The siblings froze. Kane Duggan was in La Paz. And Striker was alone with Friday, with no team to back him up.
“That’s it, that’s everything. I swear.” Glen didn’t look too manipulative now. “You have to untie me. We have a deal.”
Mace crouched in front of his former friend. “See, here’s the thing. Our deal wasn’t for your freedom. Our deal was that I wouldn’t kill you. And I won’t.” He stood, strolled over to the door, and pulled the chair out from under the knob. “But Sandi didn’t make that promise.”
“I hate scum like you.” Sandi’s voice was ice cold. She lifted her gun and aimed for Glen’s forehead.
“No!” he roared.
She pulled the trigger. The bar owner’s head shot back before it slumped forward, blood oozing from the hole in his forehead. The siblings didn’t linger to look at the man. He was old news to them now. Instead, they headed out of the office and into the bar. Nobody stopped them. The gunshot was swallowed by the loud music.
Sandi glanced around, obviously taking one last look at the place. “Now we need to find somewhere else to drink. I hate looking for a new bar. It’s like trying to find the perfect shoes.”
