She snagged the warm, bloody finger off the floor and backed to the bathroom, keeping her eyes on him as he writhed in his bonds; even the best zip ties weren’t foolproof. She made sure he was watching as she dropped the finger into the toilet and flushed. Now he knew that she wasn’t going to leave him options. Hopefully it would encourage him to give her what she wanted quickly.
“Hector,” she told him as he stared, gritting his teeth, fighting to control the pain. “Don’t be stupid. It’s not going to hurt you to tell me what I want to know. It is going to hurt you if you don’t. Your trigger fingers are next, then the rest of them. This is what I do, and I can keep it up for as long as I need to. Don’t you see? They sent you after the wrong people, Hector. They told you nothing about what you were up against. They just handed you to me. Why protect them?”
“You’re going after them next?” he grunted through his teeth.
“Of course.”
His eyes were full of venom and hatred. She’d seen the look before, but in the past, she’d viewed it from a much better protected position. If he somehow got his hands on her, if their roles were reversed, she would do what she had to in order to die immediately.
“I didn’t come for you,” he spit out unwillingly. “I was sent for a man. I was given a picture. I was told there would be a second man, but that the second would be easy. The first would be hard. I never saw that one.”
“When were you hired?”
“Last night.”
“Then you rounded up some extra help and came in today,” she guessed. “From where?”
“Miami.”
“How did you know where to come?”
“They gave me three addresses. This was the second try.”
“I guess I don’t need to ask what happened at the first place.”
His seething fury twisted into a ghoulish smile. “They were old. A man and a woman. They didn’t fit the description, but I was paid well. It doesn’t hurt to be thorough, and all it cost me was two bullets.”
She nodded. He could see nothing of her expression behind the gas mask, but she kept her features smooth out of habit.
“How far away was the other house?”
“Fifteen minutes south of the little town.”
“Where did the addresses come from?”
“No one told me that. I didn’t ask.”
She hefted the bolt cutters. “No guesses?”
“The other place was nothing like this. I saw nothing in common.”
It could be a lie, but it would make more sense for it to be the truth. Why would Carston or whoever was calling the shots at the Agency need to give the hit man more than this location?
She puzzled over it for a moment, trying to think of another avenue to explore. Her eyes never left his hands. What kinds of things might link Arnie’s home to random others? What similarity would generate a list of otherwise unconnected addresses?
With a sinking feeling, she thought of a possibility. One she did not like much.
“What kind of car was in the driveway of the first place?”
He seemed surprised by her question. “An old truck.”
“White?”
“With a black camper.”
Her jaw clenched.
So they’d gotten a very good look at Arnie’s truck—the one he’d said had two perfect matches around town. They must have gotten Daniel on camera or they wouldn’t be so certain of the make and model. Daniel would have had to drive down the main drag, passing the bank; that was probably how they’d done it. Why bother questioning the girl who called in about the missing teacher? Just take the CC camera footage from town and get something solid, then call the DMV. They didn’t get everything—if the plates had been clear, that couple across town wouldn’t be dead. But they knew Daniel was alive because Kevin wouldn’t have made that mistake. Also, even in a grainy black-and-white video, Daniel didn’t look exactly like Kevin if you knew what to look for.
She needed Arnie’s truck. She needed it badly. It was inconspicuous. They couldn’t exactly roll through town in the Batmobile and escape notice. Where was she going to get another vehicle out here?
She took a step back, feeling tired. She’d had a good resting place, but now the hunt was on again. It didn’t even matter that, most likely, the bad guys thought she was dead. Because they knew Daniel was alive.
Liability.
Hector’s right hand was busy. He was scratching at the zip tie with the tips of his fingers, almost dislocating his wrist in the process. It didn’t look like he was trying to break it or even get to the locking tab. What was he doing? She reached for the Glock; it would probably be safest to put a round through that hand—