Page 70 of Witness Security Breach

But he didn’t see the traitor. “Where’s that piece of filth?”

Devlin gestured to the van parked a few feet away. “You get the package once we’ve been paid.”

“I’d like to throw in an extra hundred.” Grand was implied. Devlin didn’t get out of bed and put on his outlaw hat for less than ten thousand.

“What for?” Devlin asked.

“To kill those marshals.” Bill’s men were muscle, good for run-of-the-mill protection and breaking kneecaps. This problem required a shrewd, ruthless predator.

“I need to find them first,” Devlin said. “But don’t worry. I will.”

“No need to find them. They’re going to come to me.” Bill stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels, still fuming. “They texted. They want to trade. The flash drive for Edgar. Alive and unharmed so he can clear their names.”

Devlin roared with dark laughter. The sound was spooky enough to give Satan himself the chills. “That’s rich.”

“Yes. It is. But not the least bit funny.”

A smile ghosted across Devlin’s lips as he rubbed the back of his head. “Those two have got a lot of grit.”

“You almost sound as if you admire them,” Bill said, disgusted.

“My father was a hunter. He taught me how to be a great one. To track something to the ends of the earth and kill it. First rule I learned was to respect dangerous things.”

Bill huffed. He knew two plus two equaled four. Hell yeah, they were dangerous. That was why he wanted them dead. Respect wasn’t a necessary part of his equation.

“I’d kill them for free,” Devlin said. “For the sport of it. For payback. But we’ll take the extra to fill our captain’s pockets.”

Their police chief was as crooked as they came. Loved being in front of the camera on the news, spinning manure into glitter, portraying his golden cops as shining examples.

Bill pulled out his other phone and made the call for the wire transfer. Three million six hundred thousand dollars.

“We’re good,” Tate said to Devlin a minute later, confirming receipt of the money.

Devlin nodded. “Give the man his package.”

Tate opened the van door, hauled Edgar Plinski out onto his feet and dragged him over.

Pure satisfaction rushed through Bill’s veins. Once the traitor was in front of him, he ripped off the duct tape from his mouth, hoping it hurt. “I’m going to enjoy hearing you scream.”

Edgar yelled and howled like a man in agony. Sweat and grime covered his reddening face. “I’ll scream all you want. Please, Bill. Don’t do this.”

“You shouldn’t have killed her.” Poor Irene.

“It was an accident,” Edgar said. “I—I loved her. Wanted her to go with me. But she tried to call you and I had to stop her. I didn’t mean to kill her. I only hit her once.”

Once across the back of her head with a solid bronze sculpture. Cracked her skull wide open and let her bleed to death.

That was the reason Edgar hadn’t turned over evidence on Bill. If the FBI had arrested Bill, he would’ve told them about Irene’s murder and Edgar’s immunity would’ve been null and void. They would’ve been in prison together. Bill preferred to get his revenge as a free man.

“I’ve got a long list of things I’m going to do to you. Ways to make you suffer,” Bill said. Then he thought about those marshals. Alive. Unharmed. “Damn it,” Bill hissed and turned to Devlin. “They’re going to ask me for proof that he’s okay before they meet with me.” They’d be fools not to. “But I’ve waited too long to put off making this one pay,” he said, stabbing a finger in Edgar’s direction.

“He just needs to look okay,” Devlin said. “Plenty of options to bring him pain.”

“Such as?” Everything Bill had planned was meant to scar and maim.

“Pull out some teeth. Start with the back ones. Rip off toenails. You could do waterboarding, one of my personal favorites. Or insects in a confinement box.”

Edgar trembled, shaking his head, mouthing “No, no,” dissolving into a pathetic heap as tears streamed down his face.