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“Jesus,” he whispered. “No. We’re only looking for, for one of you.”
“Well, which one?” asked Rett. The three men stared at them, then at one another, shrugging.
“I don’t know.”
“You’d better talk, or I will gut you right here. There are enough drugs in the backroom to send you to prison for life, and I’m going to guess that’s not a place you want to be,” said Luke.
“We were just told to find one of them and kill them.”
“Why?” asked Rett.
“You, or they, or all of you, saw something. Something you shouldn’t have seen. We need to make sure no one else knows.”
“Well, since none of us has a fucking clue as to what you’re talking about, that should be fairly easy,” said Rett. “What the fuck did we supposedly see?”
“I don’t know,” he said again.
“Let’s try this in a different way,” said Tobias, holding the blade against the man’s neck. “Who sent you?”
“C-Colonel Barber. All we had was a picture. He said to find you and kill you.”
“Good boy,” smirked Tobias. “Keep going. Why were you parked outside the woman’s apartment across the street?”
“Someone saw them together. One of them and her. We waited but never saw him. We weren’t going to hurt her.”
“Weren’t you? A friend of ours said you talked about touching her, raping her. Who are you?” asked JB.
The three men looked at one another, shaking their heads. Tobias searched their bodies for any identification, only finding a few hundred dollars.
“What did we allegedly see?” asked Rett.
“I don’t know. Really, I have no clue.”
“So, you were willing to kill a Green Beret, or three, for something you have no fucking clue about? You obviously have no service experience,” said Luke.
The statement had the impact he wanted. All three men tensed, staring at him. Nodding at JB, he proceeded to snap their photos, sending them to Ace.
Eric tied the men to the chairs, turning the sign to closed and locking the front door. In the back room, they counted one hundred and forty kilos of cocaine. He sent a text to the sheriff and NOPD, telling them that there were some strange ‘sugar’ packets in the back of the coffee shop.
“What are you going to do to us?” asked one of the men. Luke started to speak, then smiled as his phone dinged.
“Well, Specialist Ruiz, you’re going to talk, or my friend over there is going to get happy with his knife.” The man’s eyes went wide, shaking his head.
“You could talk to Corporal Whitten,” said Eric. “He looks like he’d be fun to break.” Whitten’s face went gray, staring up at the giant in front of him. He shook his head.
“I think we should talk to Corporal Blunderbuss. Blunderbuss? Seriously? Dude, change your fucking name,” frowned Tobias.
“It’s a family name. Fuck you!” he snapped.
“You’re not my type,” grinned Tobias, “but I bet the boys at Angola would love to get a hold of you, princess. Or, I suppose you’d be going to Leavenworth.”
Silence filled the coffee shop as the men just waited, ready to sit all night if they had to. Luke finally stepped closer, staring down at them.
“Do you have any idea who we are?” he asked.
“I only know him, them. We were sent his photo and given a last name. Wolfkill.”
“Well, which one did you want?” grinned Eric. “There’s a spare or two, so pick one.” The three men swallowed, not able to identify the man they needed or wanted.
