She collapsed to the gazebo floor, her body shaking uncontrollably in a state of pure torment, shattered cries pouring forth like a wounded animal. The sound was awful, and others broke down into tears, adding to the mournful wails.

But Barrett didn’t care about them anymore. Their purpose had been fulfilled, including the man he’d just killed. It served the greater good—our greater good.

The real object of his affection had just established communications, and Barrett’s only focus was on the Samaritan and the target package. “You don’t dictate terms. Ever. Talk, and make it count, or I’ll kill not just this poor guy, but all of them.”

Chapter Twenty

Chapter
TWENTY

Zack watched Barrett through his zoom-lens monocular, a wrath begging to be unleashed. His pulse pounded, and he wanted to hurt the executioner, to make him pay, slowly. He closed his eyes and inhaled, held it a moment, and exhaled deeply, calming his raging soul. He’d tried to save the man, but the monsters in charge had just sent a message—one sealed in blood: You are not in charge.

In order to retain the temporary freedom that he needed to maneuver through the neighborhood, he had to buy time. And to do that, he had to play the only card he had—one printed with information, not royal figures made of diamonds. He’d made the only move he could—he’d bluffed with the information Jimmy had provided.

It had worked, but for how long, Zack had no idea. His street was clear, and they obviously hadn’t found the laptop. Or they would’ve left. That’s the only way this thing ends. By means of elimination, that meant he had to find the teams that Barrett had dispatched to Forest Edge Court and Windy Tree Way. If one of them found it first and reported back to the evil leprechaun, Zack’s ruse would be up and people would die. He was certain there would be blood for retribution. That was the kind of man Barrett Connolly was.

Zack moved along the front of the houses and toward the cul-de-sac. His first destination was Windy Tree Way, where he assumed he’d find the closest enemy team. As he moved, he spoke, maintaining the best noise discipline that he could, the wind providing an additional layer of auditory concealment.

“Barrett, that’s a good strong Irish name. I’ll bet your mother thought you’d go far, and look at you now. Taking an entire neighborhood hostage, killing an innocent elderly man, executing a hostage, and threatening more people. You’ve really hit your stride.” Zack was baiting him, testing the waters to elicit some kind of emotional response. “By the way, I’m going to make you pay for what you just did. Somehow, some way, you’re going to answer for it.”