That’s when he noticed the bandaged finger stump. Well, well, well, if it isn’t the merc who escaped from Clairemont. What was his name? Julio-something-Ramirez… Domingo. Julio Domingo Ramirez. These were definitely Montez’s men.

Nathan kept his head up, put a knee on Julio’s back, and leaned on it. The wounded man grunted and cursed again.

He looked over and saw Harv clock his mark. Hard. Sofa man’s arms went limp and his head lolled back.

“Grangeland, secure that downed man. We haven’t cleared our perimeter or those offices on the far side yet. Stay sharp.”

She handcuffed door man’s hands behind his back.

“Grangeland, I need you over here. Keep your head up. I thought I heard something near the offices.”

Gun up and hunched over, she advanced to his position and knelt.

“Duct tape. My belly pack.”

She removed the roll and taped Julio’s wrists.

“Get his ankles too.”

There it was again. A muffled whimper.

“I heard it,” Grangeland said. “It could be the kidnapped woman.”

He motioned toward the sofa. “Secure Harv’s man.”

The sound got louder, emanating from the dark corner of the room where balcony man had fallen.

Harv kept sweeping the warehouse with his gun as Grangeland yanked sofa man forward and taped his wrists. He moaned, but didn’t resist. She also taped his ankles.

Nathan spoke quietly. “Harv, this is our fingerless friend from the attack in Clairemont.”

Harv looked at the bandaged stump. “Maybe we’ll give him a matched set.”

Julio became defiant, squirming like a worm on hot asphalt. “I need a fuckin’ doctor, man!”

Nathan locked eyes, toggled his laser, and painted it on the man’s nose.

Julio’s eyes crossed on the red dot. “Okay. Okay, be cool, man.”

He grabbed Julio’s shirt and hauled him over to the sofa. He did the same for door man, but also checked for a carotid pulse. Faint, but present.

The center of the warehouse had been converted into a living room of sorts. On three sides, black leather couches surrounded a coffee table hosting sofa man’s gun, several electronic remotes, and two cell phones. A small LCD TV sat atop an end table with a muted pornographic movie playing. He grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. Overhead, every fourth fluorescent fixture offered dull illumination. Most of the interior remained in deep shadow.

Julio couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stay quiet. “I’m bleeding bad here!”

Without warning, Nathan swung his pistol. The suppressor caught Julio’s left brow.

A red bead crept down the side of Julio’s head and found his ear. He laid all three captives out like cordwood and taped all their mouths except door man’s. With a destroyed nasal cavity, he’d suffocate with his mouth covered. Next, he taped all their feet together into one bundle.