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His gun went off. There was shouting outside. A scuffle. Joe noted it in an academic sense. He had the guy disarmed and unconscious in seconds. Amateur.
“You all right in there?” Callum’s deep Scottish brogue cut through the silence.
“Yeah.” Joe looked up at the window as Callum’s head appeared. “Took you long enough.”
“Had to come all the way from London,” the grumpy bastard said. He nodded at the guy at Joe’s feet. “He dead?”
“Not yet.” The asshole had tried to kill him. Worse, he’d tried to kill Julia. It was only a matter of time before Joe returned the favour.
“What do you want to do with him?”
That was the sixty-four-million-dollar question. “Probably a good idea to question him. Make sure more of Juan Pablo’s crew won’t come after us.”
“Then he’s coming with us.” Callum turned and whistled. A moment later, Ryan appeared.
“You couldn’t have got yourself in a mess at sea level, could you?” He looked a bit green around the gills.
“Lift your guy up and feed him out to us,” Callum said.
“What about the other guys?” Joe said. “Can’t we use them? This son of a bitch looks heavy.”
Callum’s eyes were flat. “That isn’t possible.” In other words, they weren’t alive enough to talk.
“Damn it.” This was going to open the knife wound in his side again, and it had just stopped bleeding.
He bent over and lifted the guy with a grunt, throwing him over his shoulders in a fireman’s hold. Joe backed up to the window and aimed the guy through the opening. There was a thud. Joe looked around, but didn’t see anything. He angled the guy at the window again and shoved. Two more thuds. This time Joe realised what it was. The guy’s head had hit the wall. Hell.
Joe looked up at Callum, who was staring down at him as though he was completely incompetent. Ryan was trying not to laugh.
“I’m injured,” Joe said. “One of you want to climb in here and heave him out the window?”
“You’re doing great.” Ryan choked the words out.
“Asshole.”
Joe thought the guy’s head had probably suffered enough, so he turned and tried to angle him out the window feet first.
“Somebody reach in and pull his ankles,” Joe ordered as he lifted the guy’s legs to the window.
It was too high. The angle was off. The guy slipped right off Joe’s shoulder and landed on the concrete floor. Head first.
“Well, hell.” Joe looked down at him.
“He still alive?” Callum said.
Joe knelt and felt for a pulse. Nothing. There went their informant. He stood, hands on his hips, and stared down at his now-dead attacker. When he looked back up at Ryan and Callum, Callum was shaking his head and Ryan was staring at the sky while biting his lip.
“We never mention this again,” Joe said.
“Scout’s honour,” Ryan said.
Joe crouched over the man, rolled him on to his back and checked his pockets for ID. There was nothing. But he did recognise him as the guy who’d used a knife on him in the alley.
He stood and reached for the ledge, ready to pull himself up.
“Mind the walls,” Ryan said. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt your head.”
Chapter 13
