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Mission Mayhem

Page 9

by Michael Cross


  “I can’t narrow it down right now without a live call to trace, unfortunately.”

  “Makes sense. Anything else you can tell me right now?”

  He runs his hands through his hair and frowns. “Not at the moment,” he says. “But give me a little time, and I’ll be able to tell you the exact neighborhood, street, house, room in her house, what she is wearing and what she is eating.”

  I laugh. Yeah, he and Justice would get along really well. Too bad it’s not a good idea to match her with an informant.

  “Okay well, keep me informed,” I tell him. “Give me a call and tell me what you find.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Into the belly of the beast, huh?”

  I nod. “Have to if I want answers to my questions.”

  I clap him on the back and turn toward the door but turn back to Jafi. I fish a plastic baggy out of my pocket and hand it over to him. He takes the bag and holds it up, an expression of awe mixed with disgust on his face.

  “Dude. Is that blood?” he gasps.

  “Cleaned it up as best I could,” I reply. “But yeah, a little bit. Sorry if you’re squeamish.”

  “What in the hell is this?” he asks, looking closely at what’s in the bag.

  It’s small and thin, rod-shaped, and metallic. I look down and touch the bandage on my arm, then look up at him again.

  “I need you to keep hold of this for me,” I tell him. “Keep it in your pocket until I tell you it’s okay.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a tracker. And I need the person in Seattle to think I’m still here in Tucson.”

  “Was this—was this in your arm?” he asks, his eyes falling on the bandage taped to my arm.

  I nod. “Sure was.”

  “Oh shit,” he gasps in a mixture of laughter and awe and confusion. “That is awesome.”

  “Yeah, awesome,” I mutter. “So you’ll keep it on you until I say otherwise?”

  “Yeah sure. No sweat.”

  “Thanks, Jafi.”

  I turn towards the door but stop myself.

  “Oh, and one other thing,” I say.

  Jafi looks up. “What’s up?”

  “Give me the keys to your car.”

  His mouth falls open. “What? Look, man, I’m happy to help you out, but I need a—”

  He’s interrupted as I toss him the keys to my own car. He looks down at them, then up at me, then down at them again.

  “Dodge Charger. Brand new. All the bells and whistles. Bluetooth, navigation,” I tell him. “There’s a tracker somewhere in it. I recommend you take it out. And get a new license plate and paint job while you’re at it.”

  I fish into my wallet for a stack of a few hundreds and drop it on the table. Now that I know where all this cash came from, I’m disappointed. But there’s not much I can do about it now. “This should cover that for now. Now, give me your keys.”

  Jafi’s still speechless, but he scrambles into his pocket and holds them out to me.

  I tip my hat to him. “Stay out of trouble, bud. I’ll be in touch.”

  This time I turn and leave his office. I cut through the shop and walk down to the parking lot, climb into my new car—Jafi’s beat-up Camry—and fire it up. I groan at the stench of weed billowing out, overwhelming my senses. I will definitely need to fumigate this thing if I’m going to drive it all the way across the country. And that’s assuming it can even take me the whole way.

  But it’s a long road to Seattle, and I need to hit the road. Delta put me on the bench for a few weeks, giving things a chance to calm down in the wake of McGregor’s assassination. The Hellfire Club is looking for me, and she thinks the safest place for me to be is on the sidelines and out of action, even if it is technically right under their noses by being here. Off the radar.

  It works out just fine for me. Perfectly, actually. It gives me a chance to finally get a look at who’s been pulling my strings since coming out of the coma. I don’t necessarily buy into the whole anonymity being our strength thing. Trust builds strength. And for me to trust somebody, I need to be able to look directly into their eyes. Delta’s made some moves and done some things that have strained the trust I have in her. I’m going to Seattle to see if it can be repaired.

  I’m going to Seattle to look her in the eye. Whether she likes it or not, I’m coming for her. And we’ll see what happens from there.

  Author’s Note

  Hi there,

  Thank you for reading Mission Mayhem, book 4 in my debut series, I hope you enjoyed it.

  I want to continue bringing these fast-paced action novels for you to devour.

  However, I need your help!

  It would mean the world to me if you can please leave me a review so that others can find and enjoy this book as well.

  Additionally, if you haven’t read the prequel to this book, you can click here to grab your free copy of Burn Notice.

  If you want to connect with me or found any errors in the book you want me to fix, feel free to email me at Michael@MCrossBooks.com

  Warm regards,

  Michael Cross

  Are you ready for Echo’s next adventure?

  Read Book 5 – The Tower

  Also by Michael Cross

  Book One - Amnesia

  Book Two - Web Of Lies

  Book Three - Without A Trace

  Book Four - Mission Of Mayhem

  Book Five - The Tower

  Book Six - Last Inferno

 

 

 


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