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Reid laughed as if it was all a game.
“Wait, I know that guy,” Angel said, her head popping up from my shoulder.
“You do?”
“He’s the one I accidentally knocked over when I was trying to help Reid today.” She worriedly ran a hand over her mouth.
The man climbed off his bike, his face puffy and red. He stomped toward us.
Angel cowered.
“Hey,” I touched her face, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. Her cheek was soft to the touch. “Look at me.”
She did.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” I held her gaze until I saw a flicker of understanding rise in them.
She nodded.
“Hold Reid and stay here.” I handed my son over. He latched onto Angel as if they were old friends.
“Wait.” Angel slipped her hand into mine.
I froze, my body seizing as I looked from her hand to her face. Her eyes were filled with concern.
Concern for me.
My lips curled up. There was no more fear. It was gone.
I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and winked. “I’ll be right back.”
6
Deacon
I turned away from Angel and Reid. Shook my hands out at my sides to loosen the muscles. Familiar tightness crept into my chest and spread through every nerve and vessel.
Someone was about to die.
Mentally paging through the methods at my disposal, I bemoaned the fact that I hadn’t brought a weapon.
We kept a handgun back at the shop. Licensed. For safety purposes.
Or so I told the government.
I’d considered packing it in my suitcase for the trip, but I could not. The organization preferred to fly under the radar and, thus, employees did not travel with guns. Weapons of choice were arranged beforehand and delivered upon location.
It was best this way. To avoid detection, guns were purchased locally and discarded as soon as the target was exterminated. We disappeared into the night without leaving a trace.
My fingers twitched as if my revolver had magically appeared by my side. Guns were easy, quiet and clean. A quick turn of the silencer and life seeped away with little fanfare.
But I didn’t need a weapon to achieve the needed results.
Depending on how stupid this man was, I’d decide if I would go for the pressure point and end it quickly or beat him until he stopped breathing.
The second option was messy, risky. San Pedro was well populated. Tourists strolled leisurely at all hours of the day and night. Perhaps I would beat him enough to get the point across and leave it there.
Such thoughts stampeded through my head in the half-a-minute it took to approach him.
