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Flint points the gun at the ceiling, a sigh escaping him. “I do.”
“Then I’ll be going.”
Flint levels the gun back at my head. “Is it clean?”
“Yes. Untraceable.”
“Wait here.”
I smile and tilt my head at him.
Flint walks down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Reaching into my pocket, I put a slip of paper on the dining table, retrieve my gun, and slip out the back door into the night. Scaling the back fence, I refollow my footsteps, retreating to the car I have parked over a mile away.
It never occurred to me that someone would be watching Special Agent Flint Armstrong’s house. The first bullet hits me in my left shoulder. Instinct has me hitting the dirt as the second bullet goes through my upper arm.
Scrambling, I roll into the woodland as another bullet grazes my temple. Whoever this guy is, he’s good, but not great. Crouching low, clutching my arm to my chest, I move as quickly as I can away from the car and Special Agent Flint Armstrong’s home. My gut might be wrong about him. I think he’ll take what I’ve offered him, but an injured criminal is easier to catch than a deadly one. Flint might turn me in, or worse, he might have orchestrated this whole thing.
Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I text the one person I trust the most.
Special Agent Flint Armstrong
Walking back into my dining room, the back door is open, and Jamison Felder is gone. Laying on the dining table is a piece of paper. I holster my gun, shut the back door, pick up the paper, and walk back into the nursery. My cell phone rings, and it’s my wife, Shannon.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey, honey, when are you joining us?”
“Now. I just walked through the door.”
“Your voice sounds funny. Is everything okay?”
That’s my wife, she knows me better than anyone. “He was just here.”
“Did you kill him?” Shannon asks in a panicked tone.
“No.” I chuckle.
Shannon sucks in a breath. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
Rubbing my temple, I say, “I’m fine, babe. I honestly think he thinks we’re friends.”
“Did he leave anything?”
“A note and another briefcase.”
“What does the note say?”
I unfold the paper, take a deep breath, and read out loud,“Consider it a peace offering, my friend. All untraceable, clean. You won’t see me again, but if you do, I’ll be the last thing you see before your death. Don’t come looking – W.”
“God, he has a flair for the dramatic. And W?”
“It was his code name when he worked for the CIA. It stands for Wraith.”
“What’s in the other briefcase?”
“The same as the first. An identical amount.”
I have both cases open. All the bills are lined up in perfect stacks, exactly the same way. The first case had two million dollars in it, so I’m guessing sitting in front of me is four million dollars.
