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“No,” Jim mumbled, thinking the stranger looked even bulkier in the enclosed space.
“You should take in the scenery as we drive.”
“Yeah, I will,” Jim muttered, believing the man was thinking, it will be the last thing you see before Conchello puts a bullet through your brain.
Staring out the window as the SUV left the airport, Jim saw only a blur of shops and people, but a short while later as they headed up a hillside, he found himself surrounded by a tropical forest.
“Turn around, Jim,” John ordered brusquely as the vehicle unexpectedly moved to the side of the road and came to a stop. “I need to blindfold you.”
Panic seized him.
Was he about to be taken into the jungle and shot?
As the black fabric slipped over his eyes, images of his kids as toddlers flashed through his head.
Terrifying seconds ticked by.
The scarf was tightened.
The SUV began to move.
Jim let out a breath.
Death in the jungle was not his fate.
At least, not yet.
The drive up the slope continued for several minutes, then the vehicle bounced its way over rough ground before finally stopping. He was helped out, guided up a couple of steps, and into a building. Though he was grateful for the blast of air-conditioning, the respite was short-lived. He was plonked into a chair, and his wrists handcuffed behind him.
He heard the door close, then lock.
The blindfold was removed.
Opening his eyes, he found himself in a dimly lit room.
Looking around, he suddenly caught his breath.
“Elizabeth…?”
Her hand flew across his face, slapping him so hard she almost knocked him to the floor.
“You murderous bastard! I hope you burn in hell!” she hissed angrily, then stepped back and leaned against the wall.
Words failing him and utterly dumbfounded, he was desperately trying to make sense of her presence when a heavily muscled thug wearing a balaclava stepped in front of him.
“Who are you? Where am I? Do you work for Conchello?” Jim stammered anxiously.
“Jim Parker, you’re a dead man walking, but you’re about to be given a second chance, not that you deserve it. Redeem yourself and get a few years behind bars, or I’ll call Conchello, tell him how you lied, then drop you off inside the gates of his estate.”
Though he wasn’t sure if his interrogator was the same man who had called himself John, Jim didn’t care. The guy’s voice held menace, the threat was real, and the decision an impossible one.
Sonny Conchello ruled his gang with a barbed wire fist. That was why Scott believed the ploy to get Jim to the island would be successful. Scott also knew, faced with a choice, the DEA boss might find a lifetime in prison safer than cooperating and betraying Conchello.
But Elizabeth knew Jim.
She’d worked with him for years.
Scott was sure her presence would be helpful.
