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CHAPTER 1

“Don’t. Don’t do.” Rivulets of sweat streamed down Parviz’s cheeks. The collar of his shirt was gray and sodden. “Drop rifle.”

The rifle blast so close to his ear had left him slightly deaf, so John was mostly reading the guy’s lips. But looking at the wrong end of a loaded gun means pretty much the same thing in any language. If what he thought was indeed correct, however, this tide was going to be turning right quick.

Of course, he could be wrong. He’d never been a gambling man. He was pretty certain he was right, but not a hundred percent. Almost, though.

No room for doubt. Dare said that often. The cooler you are, the more the other guy sweats.

Of which Parviz was doing plenty. “Drop rifle.” The driver used the back of a hand to blot the underside of his chin. Parviz was sweating so much, milky wisps steamed from his exposed ears and neck. “You choice.”

John didn’t bother correcting the guy’s grammar. “Not happening, Parviz.”

Parviz’s eyes narrowed to slits. “ Bad choice,” he said…and squeezed the trigger.