Page 8 of Final Sins
The silence that followed stretched for an eternity, broken only by the crunch of gravel under their tires and Gravy’s nervous humming.
Finally, the phone buzzed:
2100. Not one second later.
“Everything okay?” Gravy’s voice cracked on the last word.
Jason forced a smile, though inwardly he seethed at the brusque responses. “Copy that. Our new friends are real charmers.”
They emerged onto a highway, the smooth asphalt a welcome relief after the jarring logging roads. He scanned their surroundings. Still no sign of pursuit. The absence of danger was almost more unsettling than being chased.
A chill crept through him, his wound throbbing in time with his heartbeat. The edges of his vision began to blur, and he shook his head, trying to stay alert.
Gravy glanced over, his face pale in the dim dashboard light. “You’re not looking so hot, Major.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, his teeth chattering slightly.
Gravy snorted. “No offense, sir, but you are one seriously bad liar. I’m gonna pull over up ahead. Gotta make sure we’re clear, and we need to do something about that bleeding.”
Jason wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He nodded weakly as Gravy guided the truck off the road, coming to a stop just below a ridge top.
As Gravy worked to bandage his wound, Jason’s mind drifted. Why hadn’t their attackers finished the job? They’d had every opportunity. It didn’t make sense.
“There,” Gravy said, taping down the last of the gauze. “That should hold you till we get to the extraction point.”
Jason mumbled his thanks, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. As consciousness slipped away, one thought echoed in his mind: Why leave us alive?
The gentle rocking of the truck resumed, carrying Jason into an uneasy sleep filled with shadowy figures and unanswered questions.
5
The night airhung thick and heavy, a velvet cloak draped over the sprawling property. Crickets serenaded the darkness, their chirps a soothing counterpoint to the man’s racing thoughts. He sat motionless on the porch, savoring the solitude that had come at such a steep price.
A price he was still paying. But not for much longer.
The man’s lips curved into a smile as he contemplated the future stretching out before him. Freedom. Real freedom, this time. The kind only obscene wealth and ruthless intelligence could buy.
And a willingness to act. That was his strongest skill. Act, and live with the consequences.
One serious injury, this time, but no fatalities. He absolutely could live with that. He’d expected worse. Going up against Jason Reilly was never going to be easy. The ends, after all, would justify the means.
He closed his eyes and lifted the crystal tumbler to his lips. The smoky flavor of century-old scotch rolled across his tongue, igniting his senses. Another perk for a man unafraid to bet it all.
But tempting as it was to savor the evening, he had one last chore to complete first.
He set down his glass, then reached for his cell phone, but his fingers hovered over the device. He despised working with outsiders. Too much was out of his control.
The risks multiplied exponentially.
But so did the rewards.
Too many to count. Money, certainly. Lots of it. And the place he’d secure for himself in this new iteration of the Consortium. The biggest prize of all.
Once the bloodbath began, he had scrambled to show loyalty and demonstrate usefulness to Seven-Five. You either joined the winning team, or you died.
The slow and the unimaginative had already been culled. Thankfully, the outsider had appeared with an offer at exactly the right moment.
Judging when to take a leap was another of his strengths. He’d recognized the upside of the outsider’s plan immediately. Now all he had to do was close the deal. With a barely audible sigh, he tapped the screen, initiating the connection he’d been dreading.