The light from the
lab didn’t brighten the room enough that Fernando could see what was inside. His
stomach lurched. He considered the distance between them. It was too far. He
wouldn’t have a chance to get close to Brett before the gun would go off.
Brett’s gun hand
was steady. “Drop your briefcase, and turn your pockets inside out.”
Fernando placed
the briefcase on the floor by the door. He looked up. “What’s going on? Can’t you
just let me go?”
“Don’t talk. Just
do it. Your pockets. I want everything you have in them.”
Fernando took out
his billfold, some change, and a business card. He carefully felt around his
small cell phone, hoping Brett wouldn’t ask for it. Why hadn’t he called
Isabella in the car, letting her know he’d stop by Brett’s before going home? If
he would have done that, Brett couldn’t have risked kidnapping him.
Now Brett came
closer, eyes focused on the things in Fernando’s hand. “Drop the stuff on the
floor.”
Slowly Fernando
bent and placed the contents of his pockets, except for the phone, next to the
briefcase. He kept watching Brett’s feet, which came even closer. It’s now or never, he thought and
catapulted up, slamming his head into Brett’s stomach.
Brett did not lose
the weapon. His gun hand came up and slammed onto Fernando’s head.
Pain exploded all
around Fernando. Something warm trickled down his face, and then everything
went black.
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