Montez hated mediocrity, hated it with a passion. He had no tolerance for lazy slobs who drifted through life doing the minimum to get by. Interrogating rat-bags like that offered little or no challenge at all. Like children, they broke quickly under pressure. He’d only interrogated children a few times and in each case it had been easy. Nothing physical had been needed. Fear alone sufficed, as it often does, even with adults. Fear was the most effective tool to use against spineless subjects, while humiliation tended to be most effective against the strong-willed. Obstinate, stubborn subjects were without doubt the most challenging, but at the same time, the most rewarding.

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for this self-indulgence.

Control remained his. He had Dalton’s family securely guarded in a secret location, and they’d stay that way for as long as he needed them. And when they weren’t needed anymore?

He took another hit of beer and smiled.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Where was he?

Daylight filtered in through vertical blinds. A hospital room.

Nathan sensed a presence in the room and tried to focus. Slowly, the image materialized into a woman with graying blond hair and blue eyes behind glasses. Grangeland? No, she didn’t wear glasses and the hair wasn’t right.

“I’m Dr. Rosson. You’re in a hospital room recovering from surgery. How do you feel, Mr. McBride?”

“Thirsty. Please, call me Nathan.”

She handed him a cup of water with a straw. “Not too much, okay?”

He took a sip. “Thank you. How long have I been out?”

“Off and on for eight hours.”

“Eight hours.”

“The first half was mostly from anesthesia recovery. We kept waking you for neurological tests.”

“They kept asking me questions and looking at my eyes.”

“It’s part of monitoring your level of consciousness. The bullet missed your skull by an eyelash, but it carved a three-inch groove through your scalp. I cut clean edges and stapled the two margins together. It’s similar to a brow lift that a plastic surgeon performs. Your left sideburn will be a little higher than the right, but it won’t be that noticeable. You also sustained a simple concussion, but there’s nothing simple about it. Do you feel any nausea?”

“Not at all. Good thing the bullet hit me in the head, I could’ve been seriously injured.”

She half laughed. “You are seriously injured. I’ve seen my share of gunshot wounds. You’re fortunate to be alive. Guardian angel?”

“Dumb luck.”

“Let me know if you begin to experience any nausea, dizziness, visual problems, or prolonged headaches, okay?”

He stared at the ceiling while she listened to his heart and lungs.

“Deep breath, please…. Again…. One more time….” She tucked the stethoscope into her coat pocket.

“You have some unusual scars on your body. May I assume you didn’t get them learning to eat with a knife and fork?”