bathroom, saw a man at the pisser, didn’t think anything of it, and turned to go into the stall. Then I felt pain in my head and the lights went out. I just woke up.” His voice was slurred, and he had blood dripping down his neck, making his story very believable.
That hadn’t been what had happened but no one in that room would know otherwise. Sleep had actually slipped outside, met up with Brackish, put on a disguise, then broke through the back, placing the staff in the cooler to keep them out of harm’s way. Then Brackish had whisked Jorge away while Sleep had slipped back inside and given a face full of chloroform to the two men sent to find their boss, knocking them out as soon as they entered the bathroom, their boss long gone already.
“I’ve already called the police. They should be here any minute,” Green said as he staggered into the kitchen, still seeming disoriented from the fight.
“Let’s go,” Manuel said at those words.
“But, sir, they’ll need witness testimony,” Green called.
Manuel didn’t acknowledge Green’s words as he moved to the dining room, gathered the rest of his group, and quickly exited the front doors. They got into their cars and were gone in seconds.
The team didn’t break character as they each walked away from the restaurant, leaving the stunned staff to talk to the police. They got into their waiting vehicles and drove away, peeling away their disguises as they moved through the city. Brackish would come in later that night and strip away the hidden cameras and microphones.
Their job was done, and it had been done well. It was 2200 hours, and the night was just beginning for the team. They’d gotten the package and they were ready to move forward.
The reign of terror that had been held over the city of Seattle and surrounding areas was coming closer to an end than ever before. And it was because Joseph Anderson had hired the best of the best to run a kick ass team. It was only just beginning — and they wouldn’t stop until the final mission was complete.
Chapter Two
Joseph leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He despised the hours he had to spend on his computer. Those days should be long gone. But no. Since his wife had been diagnosed with cancer, he was on more than when he’d been working as the CEO of the vast Anderson Empire. He wasn’t complaining about helping his wife, he was internally complaining because he couldn’t be at her side twenty-four/seven. Instead he had to be on the computer, on phone calls, and in meetings.
After a moment of self-pity, he opened another email and began reading when he heard a rap on his office door. He looked up, and his butler, who as most of his staff was more family than employee, walked forward.
“Good afternoon, Timothy,” Joseph said as he ran a hand through his hair. He was tired and it was barely noon.
“Sir, Mr. Chad Redington has arrived. He’s in the den,” Timothy replied.
“Thank you. Leave my door open and bring him here,” Joseph said. Normally, he’d much rather sit comfortably in his den that was more man cave than family room, but there was too much work to be done to sit around and relax. Timothy nodded and walked away.
Joseph finished reading the email he’d just opened, typed out a quick reply to the doctor asking a question, then shut down the program. The man he regularly corresponded with was a top neurosurgeon in Spain. His friend, Dr. Spence Whitman, had given Joseph a top-ten list of medical experts from around the world months ago, and a few of them were working on Katherine’s case.
Sadly, each of the physicians had come to the same conclusion of cancer and had let him know it wasn’t going to be an easy journey. There were some variances in what they suggested to move forward and what care was required, but they all agreed an aggressive method was best. Some of the doctors he liked more, and some less. But he had respect for each one of them, and how advanced they were in the art of medicine.
“Joseph.” Chad’s clipped, deep voice was all business as he walked into the room after a short rap on the open door.
Joseph stood, feeling and hearing a few creaks in his aging body. If only his weathered body felt as young as his mind, he’d live to