As far as Austin Hunter knew, he’d never killed anyone. Never eliminated any targets.
That’s how they put it in the special forces-eliminating targets.
His friends had. Some of them had made a career out of it. But not Austin Hunter.
How had this happened?
How had he dragged Cassandra into this?
Oh, if they hurt her in any way.
If they do anything to her.
It was because of the fire last night. He knew they were doing this because he hadn’t started the fire last night.
Austin had investigated each of the fire locations to make sure there were no occupants in the buildings. All were empty. No people. No casualties. No targets.
After the first six fires, he’d started to think that Drake was just a rich pyro who was too much of a coward to start his little recreational fires himself. And that’s what Austin told himself for the next eight fires.
But then last night came, and everything changed.
Once again Drake had told him to come at the specified time-that was always part of the deal; he wouldn’t get paid if he arrived early. But last night Austin had gotten a bad feeling after talking to Drake. The billionaire sounded really torqued about something, and Austin didn’t want to be a part of any job that went sour. So he decided to arrive an hour early to check things out.
And that’s when he saw what those two men did.
And in that moment, Austin realized that he’d gotten himself in way over his head. The men had probably used the device at each site before he arrived. That’s why he’d been brought in to start the fires.
And that’s why he’d been told not to arrive early-so he wouldn’t see them in the act.
Now they could set him up for everything.
Austin figured Drake’s men would come after him, but he never thought they’d go after Cassandra.
The news chopper rotated toward him, and Austin dashed past a marina and slipped into a gap between two buildings. He needed to avoid the sight lines of the chopper, but all the evasiveness was slowing him down and he didn’t have time for that.
Victor Drake was behind this. He had to be.
But Drake had messed with the wrong man.
Austin waited a moment for the chopper to pass, then edged into the street and ran toward the primary rendezvous point.
Earlier in the day, when he first saw the video of Cassandra in the tank, he’d thought about going after Drake, doing whatever it took to get him to talk, but he was afraid that if he did, Drake’s hired guns would find out and kill Cassandra before he could save her. And, of course, Austin couldn’t go to the authorities because the kidnappers would definitely kill Cassandra then, and afterward Drake would turn him in for starting the fires.
Really, Austin had no bargaining chips-except for his skills.
So. Mission objectives: burn down the building, retrieve the device, save Cassandra.
Then when it was all over: deal with Drake.
Yes, as far as Austin Hunter knew, he’d never killed anyone.
But if they hurt Cassandra at all, if they even touched her, that was going to change.
Creighton Melice waited anxiously by the docks for the call from Shade. According to the plan Shade had emailed him, Hunter should have found the cell phone taped beneath the park bench over twenty minutes ago. Shade was supposed to call Hunter first and then contact Melice to finalize where the exchange would take place.
But so far, nothing. Creighton didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to schedule.
A thought crawled into his mind. An awkward, uncomfortable itch.
What if Hunter had retrieved the device and decided to keep it for himself?
No. He wouldn’t do that. He loved Cassandra. That was the key to everything-his love for her. He wouldn’t leave her alone at the deadline. He wasn’t that kind of a man.
But then again, maybe Shade had read him wrong. Maybe Hunter loved something else more than his girlfriend.
Creighton decided to give Shade five more minutes and then, if he didn’t call, return to the warehouse and switch to Plan B.
7:05 p.m.
Austin heard the phone ringing and sprinted the last sixty yards at full speed to the park bench, but by the time he arrived, the ringing had stopped.
He scoured the bench, found the phone, and snatched it up.
But when he opened it all he found was dead air.
No.
Too late.
They’d been very specific about the time, and he was too late.
No, he couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t be. He slammed a fist against the bench.
Maybe they were here, somewhere close by. He looked rapidly in every direction.
No one.
No!
And that’s when he heard the sirens coming his way.