Page 84 of Steel Vengeance
Stitch cut him off, the barrel digging into his skull. “Don’t fucking lie to me, or I’ll blow your brains out. You hear me?”
Jeremy’s eyes locked on Stitch’s, and he caved. “Okay, okay, relax! It was Sullivan. The provincial government blocked our usual supply route, so we had to find a new way through the mountains. The villagers resisted, and Sullivan told us to send a message.”
“A message?” Stitch hissed. “That was a massacre.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes, a hint of annoyance showing through. “What do you care about some tiny Afghan village?”
Stitch’s voice dropped even lower, cold and venomous. “That wasmyvillage. My family. My friends. My wife, you piece of shit.”
Jeremy just stared at him, wide-eyed.
Blade didn’t move, though the arm holding his gun twitched, ready to back Stitch up.
Stitch’s chest heaved, rage bubbling up, his finger itching to pull the trigger. It would’ve been so damn easy. Just a squeeze, and this scumbag’s head would explode. But he held himself back. He needed confirmation first.
“I didn’t know,” Jeremy mumbled.
“Were you there?” Stitch snarled, pushing the gun harder against Jeremy’s head. “Did you help kill all those innocent people?”
Jeremy paled, shaking his head. “No, I wasn’t there. I swear. I was with Omari in Peshawar.”
Stitch didn’t buy it. “Omari wasn’t in Peshawar then.”
“He was close by, setting up labs near the border. I was helping oversee it.”
Stitch knew about the labs in the foothills where they processed the raw opium. It was possible Jeremy had been there.
His blood pounded in his ears. He wanted to end this bastard right here. Maybe Jeremy hadn’t pulled the trigger on Soraya and her family, but he was neck-deep in this filthy operation. Plus, he was the one who’d ordered the hit on Sloane.
I couldn’t live with myself.
Sloane’s words echoed in his head. He wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He couldn’t just shoot the bastard without reason.
Then Jeremy gave him one.
The CIA agent twisted suddenly, going for Stitch’s gun in a desperate attempt to surprise him. It was gutsy, but it didn’t work. Before Jeremy could get his hands around the weapon, Stitch pulled the trigger.
At the same time, a loud pop sounded from Blade’s direction.
Jeremy flew backward, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Blood pooled from the hole in his forehead, compliments of Blade, as well as the wound in his gut.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
"Let’s get out of here,”Stitch said, picking up his phone. It was still recording. They’d let the authorities sort through the bullet holes, casings, and trajectories when they processed the scene. Good luck with that.
Blade tossed Jeremy’s gun onto the floor beside him. He’d been wearing gloves, so he didn’t worry about prints. “Right behind you.”
Stitch took a moment to wipe down both sides of the door hand, before slipping out of the room. Blade followed, closing the door behind him.
They took the emergency stairs, avoiding the guests who had come out of their rooms after hearing the gunshots. Hotel security wouldn’t be far behind.
“This way,” Blade hissed, slipping into the stairwell. They hurried down one flight and stepped into a plush, carpeted hallway, moving casually as they headed for the elevators. Blade pressed the button for down.
Stitch tucked his gun back into the holster under his shirt. “We’ve gotta get out before they lock down the hotel.”
“I’d say we’ve got less than a minute,” Blade muttered.
The elevator door finally pinged open, and they shot inside. Thirty seconds later, they were walking out of the lobby.