Page 56 of Delta

I'm almost asleep myself when I hear my mobile buzz. It's across the room in the pocket of my discarded jeans. Moving slowly, I worm out from underneath Bryn, holding my breath when she stirs. Asleep, there's youth and innocence in her features that makes my heart clench. So damned beautiful.

She's no idea what's going to happen to her. What I'm powerless to stop.

Fuck.

I tiptoe across the room, snag my phone, and take it into the bathroom.

It's him.

I shoot back an SMS rather than answering: can't talk. What do you want?

Him: Where is she? You should have delivered my merchandise by now.

Me: Close.

Him: Not having second thoughts, are you, Rush? Need I remind you why you're doing this?

Me: No.

Him: You have until noon tomorrow. Or instead of receiving the money you need, you'll get her head in a box.

Fucking goddammit it all to motherfucking bloody shit-eating cunt ass hell.

Me: If you so much as breath the same air as her I swear to god I’ll rip out your eyeballs and skullfuck you.

Him: How eloquent. You should know better than to threaten me, Rush.

Perfect grammar and punctuation, even in a text message, uppity fucking prick bastard.

Me: I don’t make idle threats

Him: Nor do I.

A moment later…

Him: I'll sweeten the pot for you, because it has come to my attention that the particular…item…in your possession is of higher value than I'd originally realized. Bring her to me as soon as possible, and not only will I increase your payment to an even 500k, I'll cut you loose. Done. No more jobs for me. Ever.

Damn. She must be really valuable if he's offering that. I wonder why?

Me: Tomorrow noon cash legally binding contract you miserable sadistic evil fucking cunt.

Him: Deal.

I'm about to click the button to put my mobile to sleep when it dings again.

He always has to have the last word.

Him: Enjoy your stay at the hotel. I've heard the Salade Niçoise is particularly excellent there.

He knows where we are? How? What I told Bryn was the truth—I assumed they lucked out on finding us here. But if he knows which hotel we're in? Not good.

A tracker, I can only assume. Implanted while she was drugged and unconscious.

I have neither the skill nor the tools to remove or neutralize an embedded tracking device.

Why would I? I'm giving her over to him. I have to. My threat wasn't idle—I'd put a slug in his brain without a second thought, and then I'd follow it with two or three more just for good fucking measure. But he's immensely well-protected. If I had a team of six highly skilled operators, eyes in the sky, and a solid plan, I’d go after him in a heartbeat. But alone? Nah. I’d be dead, and the one human on the planet I refuse to fail will be alone and helpless.

I let my phone clatter to the bathroom counter before I either crush it in my hand or huck it at the mirror. My head hangs, and I struggle to pull in a breath. My heart hammers. The image of the sink below my face wavers and distorts. There's a fat fucking elephant on my chest. Guilt rages through my veins in place of blood, along with an acidic dose of venomous rage.