Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,193

not leave your post,” the man commanded. Once he came into view, DJ realized he knew this guy, too. They’d done a drop-off a few years ago.

Drawing his handgun, DJ waited until the man was walking under the tree limb, then fired two quick shots into the man’s head. He then jumped from the limb to the ground, landing in a crouch a few feet from the remains. He headed for the garage door, figuring the six-car garage was as good a place as any to store weapons, as the house appeared to have no basement.

He saw the third guy long before the guy saw him. Creeping along the back wall, the third security guy was definitely lower tier. He was young, maybe twenty years old, and scared.

DJ shoved his handgun to the back of the young man’s head. “If you make a sound, I will kill you. Nod if you understand. Do not speak.”

The man nodded frantically and did not speak.

DJ patted him down and found a knife and two guns. He added them to his duffel bag. “Good. I’m looking for weapons. Take me to them and I’ll let you go.”

The guy began walking toward the garage, where he unlocked an exterior door into the cavernous space. The entire wall was covered with cabinets and safes, and while the garage could easily hold six vehicles, the only ones inside were a van, a pickup, and a red Jaguar.

The young man made a grunting sound, and DJ realized that he was asking for permission to speak. “Go ahead. But if you scream, you’re dead. I got nothing to lose.”

“I don’t know the combinations to the safes. I don’t have keys for the cabinets, either.”

DJ took the first guard’s keys from his pocket. “Open all the cabinets.” The safes would have to wait for another day.

The third guard complied and a few minutes later, all the cabinet doors were open. DJ was thunderstruck. There were enough guns here to stage a revolution.

DJ dumped the contents of his duffel bag on the passenger seat of the panel van, then handed the bag to the guard. “Three rifles. Ten boxes of ammo. Six handguns. Fill it.”

The man sprang into action and a minute later returned with the bag mostly full. “Here,” he said, his hands shaking.

“Explosives?”

The man swallowed. “There’s some C-4, but it’s in the safe. Dynamite is in the cabinets, though.”

It would have to do. “Bring a box and put it in the back of the van.”

The man complied, scurrying like a mouse. When he was done, DJ checked the contents of the bag before stowing it on the floorboard of the van. “Keys.”

The man handed him the keys. “I did what you said. I’m gonna go now.”

“You must be new,” DJ said dryly.

“Real new. My first night was last week.”

“Should have picked a different boss.” DJ shot the man in the head, firing a second time before checking his pulse to be sure he was dead. He found the garage door opener in the van and hit the switch. When the door rose, he wasn’t sure what he’d find, but he was pleasantly surprised to see no one there.

He drove down the driveway and past the black sedan to where he’d left the Honda Civic. Leaving the head of security’s phone in the van, he transferred the box of dynamite and the duffel bag full of weapons from the van to the Civic, then slid behind its wheel. And drove away.

Two in the win column. If Kowalski had been home, he hadn’t done a thing to save his men. Hell, the man probably had a panic room or some kind of a bunker he could hide in.

If he hadn’t been home, he’d be hearing all about this from his missus.

Either way, DJ had gotten what he’d come for.

ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA

MONDAY, MAY 29, 4:00 A.M.

Tom bolted upright in bed, waking Liza. Hearing the ringing of a phone, she propped up on her elbow to see him grabbing at all three of his cells, looking adorably confused.

“It’s this one,” she said, taking the other two from his hands. “The one that says ‘Jeff Bunker’ on the screen. You want to touch the button that says ‘accept.’ ”

He gave her the stink-eye as he answered the call. “Jeff? . . . Well, yeah, I was asleep, but it’s all right. What do you have?”

Liza sat up, giving him a stink-eye of her own. Speaker, she mouthed.

“Gonna put you on speaker, if that’s okay?” He did