“You can search my bag and my clothes and my cell phone, motherfucker, but not a single one of you is going near my ass.”
“I’m afraid you really don’t have a choice.”
“I guess we’ll see about that.” I will never submit to a cavity search. Never. I’m on my feet now, and I am fucking ready. I can take all of his guys without a problem now that I’m not half asleep, flat out on my back. I flick a warning glance out of the corner of my eye to the guy who is slowly approaching with his hands out, and I bare my teeth. “Do you know how to break every single finger in a man’s hand in under three seconds, with nothing more than a towel?” I ask him.
He stops dead, blinking at me. “No, I don’t,” he mutters.
“That’s a pity. Because I do.”
The guy looks back at the redhead, lifting both eyebrows. “Harrison?”
Harrison doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. He’s still holding his gun, but it’s loose in his hand, pointed at the floor, and he doesn’t really seem to be paying attention to the situation. His lackey swallows and resumes his approach. I kind of feel sorry for the poor bastard. He tries to jump me as soon as he’s in arm’s reach, but I grab hold of him by the wrist, spin him around so that his arm is trapped behind his back, and then I do as I promised. I lean my kneecap into the small of his back, pushing, and I pull his arm back toward me at the same time, straining it so that it’s almost popping from his shoulder joint. It’s very easy from there to snap the bones in his fingers. Index, middle, ring and pinkie. I must be getting soft in my old age, because I don’t break his thumb. I could. It wouldn’t take more than a second, but without his thumb he’s useless for six weeks. He’ll lose total use of his dominant hand, and who the fuck knows what happens to guys who suddenly can’t even hold a pen or wipe their own asses around here?
I let him go, and he tumbles to the floor at Harrison’s feet, screaming, holding onto his hand for dear life.
“God,” Harrison snaps. “Fucking pathetic. One of you guys just fucking deal with this, okay? None of us can leave until we’re sure he’s clean.”
I survey the other men. None of them are volunteering to be next in line to have their fingers broken. Harrison sighs, lifting up his gun. He aims it at my head, his finger on the trigger.
“Be a good boy and bend over now. This will all be over in a moment.”
I take three long steps forward, so that his Glock is pressing up against my forehead, right between my eyes. “No. Fucking. Way. You’re going to have to kill me first.”
“Don’t tempt me, friend.”
“If Fernando wanted me dead, he would have shot me himself the moment he laid eyes on me. Or maybe later, here at the house when I broke his rules. But he didn’t. I guess that means he wants this deal to go through, friend. So do what you have to do. But I won’t be cowed by you. And I sure as hell am not letting anyone stick anything in my ass. It’s your call.”
Harrison’s eyes lower until they’re no wider than slits. He isn’t happy, not one bit, but I know he isn’t going to shoot me. Not yet anyway. He lowers the gun and spits onto the floor at my feet. “It isn’t often that someone refuses me something, Mr. Garrett. I’m not a fan of rejection, and I’m not a fan of being told no. I assure you I will get what I want. Either now, or later, when Fernando’s tired of the little charade you’re playing.” He holds up my cell phone in his hand for me to see. “Tell me the passcode.”
“Why?”
“So I can read your messages and confirm you’re acting on behalf of this New York banker, moron.”
“There’s personal information on there.”
“I’m counting on it. Don’t worry. I couldn’t give a shit about your pussy pics and your stashed porn files. It’s your conversations with your boss I’m interested in. Give me the fucking code.”
“No.”
“I mean it. This isn’t a fucking joke, okay? You haven’t just checked in for a spa weekend at the Ritz Carlton. Your life is on the line right now.”
I make a show of thinking for second, and then I hold up my hands, surrendering. “Okay. It’s five eight five nine. But seriously, man. Don’t look at my private photos. They’re pretty graphic. I’d hate to think of them in the wrong hands.”