Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            What the fucking hell?

            “Where is DJ?” Kowalski demanded.

            “He went up the rock face to get a cell signal,” Pastor said weakly, and DJ was reluctantly impressed. Pastor didn’t bat an eye as he lied. His face was sheet-white and he was putting his weight on his unbroken leg.

            “Fine,” Kowalski said. “I’ll deal with him later, wherever he is. Who’s the girl?”

            “My nurse,” Pastor replied. “I’m quite ill.”

            “I heard. You got hurt and DJ ran off to take care of you like a whipped pussy. He fucked up that night, Father.”

            “It’s actually Pastor,” Pastor said, gritting his teeth, but still showing no signs of fear. “I’m not Catholic.”

            Kowalski snorted. “Good one. He said you were his father. As in mother and father.”

            “Oh. Well, that’s true. I had surgery, though, and you’re going to pop my stitches.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kowalski said sarcastically. “Let me be brief. I want you to contact your banker and have him transfer all your holdings into my account.”

            Fucking asshole, DJ thought furiously. He’s stealing my money.

            Pastor wheezed a chuckle. “You can’t be serious.”

            “Oh, I’m very serious. So serious that you’re really going to need that pretty nurse when I’m done—if you don’t cooperate.”

            Pastor sobered. “You are serious. I’m just an old man. I have no money.”

            Kowalski laughed. “You had three hundred fifty thousand dollars to pay Sunnyside Oaks. You never even blinked at the amounts. So you have a lot more where that came from.”

            Oh, hell no. Who at Sunnyside had shared that information? DJ was going to find them and make them wish they’d never been born.

            Pastor’s expression went cold. “You know a lot about me. I don’t even know your name.”

            “You can call me Kowalski.” He drew a gun from his pocket. “I’m going to start shooting off your fingers and then your toes and then we’ll get really serious.”

            “Can I have the girl?” the minion asked.

            “I don’t care. But find Belmont first. He’s got a few things that belong to me.”

            “He stole from you?” Pastor asked, sounding aghast.

            “Yeah. He stole from me, then killed three of my best security guards. Dominic, put the girl down and find Belmont. You can take her with you later.”

            “I’ll put her in the car in case the bullets start flying. I like my women alive and breathing.” Dominic grabbed a handful of Barkley’s scrubs and forced her to the back seat of the Jeep. He shoved her in and slammed the door before returning to the Explorer. He studied the dirt, evidently finding DJ’s boot prints, because he started walking his way.

            DJ waited until he was close before dragging him behind the trees and shooting him twice in the head, ever grateful for his suppressor. He eased the body to the ground, then took the man’s cap and shirt. Dominic was about his size, so the dead man’s flannel button-up was a decent fit, the plaid pattern hiding the blood spatter. He’d snugged the cap on his head just as Kowalski called out.

            “Where are you?”

            “Comin’,” DJ grunted. He jogged through the foliage and around the Explorer, stopping behind Kowalski. “Couldn’t find him.”

            Kowalski went very still. Then he dropped Pastor and whirled on DJ, gun drawn. “You bastard! You ungrateful little bastard. I taught you everything and you stole from me!”




TWAIN, CALIFORNIA

            TUESDAY, MAY 30, 4:00 P.M.

            Liza contorted her body so that she could reach her shoe. Raeburn had been good as his word, hiding that slick James Bond blade in the sole. Tom had made her practice retrieving it a few times that morning, and she was grateful for that now.