“You two sure as fuck don’t talk like mortal enemies, which strangely is good for me.”
“Hey, asshole, I might not be the smartest man alive, but even I know the mortal enemy is the jerk holding the gun on me.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Bateman raised his gun and held it steady on Bryce. “Leesa, I’m going to ask you a question, and whether or not your ex here—and you—lives or dies depends on your answer.
“When you were in Kabul, one of your ex’s pals came to you and gave you a letter to hang on to—gave you a sob story about having no family and wanting you to notify his friends back in the States if anything happened to him. Do you remember that?”
“Of course. Jerry Levine. Said something about not trusting the brass to take care of his effects, that he only trusted me.”
“Where is that letter, now?”
Leesa looked at Bateman. “I gave it back to him. He came to visit me in the infirmary, just before I was shipped back home. I handed him back his letter, because I was leaving the army. Told him to give it to someone else.”
On the ground, Bryce started to laugh. Leesa looked down at him, a kind of horrified fascination taking over. As far as she could see, he’d been punched in the face. His lip had bled, and his left eye was looking swollen. She didn’t see any wounds on his legs.
So she kicked him. “Are you fucking nuts? Dude, asshole here has a gun pointed at us and he doesn’t look happy!”
“What the fuck are you laughing at, Jordan? I don’t need to keep you alive if there’s no fucking letter.”
“I’m laughing because I finally get all that crap I’ve heard all my life about karma.” Bryce stopped laughing and stared at Bateman. “I’m laughing because I overheard the bastard bragging that he gave Leesa the letter. So while she was on duty, I rifled through her stuff, found it, and opened it. There were directions to a farmhouse, which I copied out and then memorized. I’m fucking laughing because the first fucking thing I did when I got out of prison was to make my way to Virginia. I found Jerry Levine’s fucking farmhouse—I overheard him tell ol’ Johnny Appleseed about the place, back in Kabul, and how he had a secret stash. I remembered every fucking word he said. So yeah, I found that house, and in the back bedroom, I found the stash hole—the safe he’d buried there was open and empty except for a lousy C note.” He shook his head. “Good ol’ Jerry played us all, because that was the kind of sick, twisted bastard he was. He got that stash himself—and then the poor, dumb bastard was killed in a car accident. It was in the news. The crash became an inferno that melted a hole in the highway—and likely turned all those thousands of greenbacks into ash.”
“You’re fucking lying! Both of you! You’ve got some sort of a deal going on here, haven’t you?”
“Well, fuck a duck.” Leesa put her hands on her hips. “How stupid can one man be? That’s the trouble, you know, when you’re a liar and a cheat. When you live your life the way you clearly have, Bateman, looking for the fast and the easy, the down and the dirty. You think everyone else is a liar and a cheat and lives that way, too.”
“Sanctimonious bitch. I sure as hell don’t need you.” Bateman swung his gun toward Leesa. She was nearly close enough to kick it out of his hand. Nearly, but not quite.
Bryce moved, kicked out from his position on the floor, and caught Bateman right at the knees. The man began to fall, and his aim swung toward Bryce. Leesa sprang forward, intent on taking him down and disarming him.
And then the gun went off.
* * * *
Jason watched as Bateman marched Leesa to his own car then pointed his flashlight in the open trunk.
“It’s Bryce Jordan in the trunk. He looks unconscious.” Marc had been on his belly, binoculars in hand, when they’d arrived.
As Jason watched, Leesa reached into the trunk and lifted her unconscious ex right out of there.
“Basic training,” Marc said. “She’s been taught how to lift and carry more than twice her weight.”
Jason didn’t care if she had been trained. He hated she was forced to do that, forced to carry the man who’d treated her like dirt.
Adam was standing off to the left, and in the last couple minutes, he’d been joined by several other people. Jason hadn’t heard their approach, which told him whoever these people were, they were professionals. The only one that Jason recognized was Peter, Adam’s brother-in-law.
Jason jerked as Bateman fired his gun.
“Blew off the lock. Arrogant asshole. Thinks he’s all alone out here.” Marc’s running commentary kept Jason grounded. Beside him, Phillip had also jerked at the loud noise. In his periphery, Jason watched as Adam and the other men he was with moved toward Marc.
“Okay, they’ve gone inside,” Adam said. “Jake?”
“Yep, I’m ready.” Jake stood behind them slightly, with his laptop open, turned on, and sitting on the hood of the car.
“Good picture quality,” Adam said.
He and Phillip joined Adam and the rest of the men. On screen, they watched as a light came on. Bateman used his gun as a pointer, and Leesa set her ex on the floor.
“Hell, there’s not even a water source in here.”
“Are you recording?” one of the men with Peter asked.
“Oh, you bet,” Jake said. “Both video and audio.”
The man looked up. His grin flashed, and the sight of it gave Jason a shiver. “Perfect. We’ve already got the bastard on kidnapping and unlawful confinement. That’s a damn fine start. Let’s move out.”
The sound of laughter drew Jason’s attention back to the laptop. “Guess Jordan woke up,” Jake said. Then he snorted. “Leesa just kicked him.”
“Are you fucking nuts? Dude, asshole here
