Page 3 of Broken
“I got out. They didn’t.”
“I’ll send local PD in for the bodies.”
“There’s four in the house, one in the river.”
Silence.
“I need details,” Z said.
“There’s a woman—probably the realtor—in the master bathroom. Maul’s guys kept me busy while he ran. I hit him, and he fell in the river.”
“Fuck,” Z spat out. “Were you hit?”
“A bullet grazed my arm.”
“Stop at the safe house.”
“I got this.”
“Why are you so difficult?” Z pushed back. “The doc can swing by and patch you up in minutes.”
“I’m staying at your condo,” Prescott said, changing the subject.
“Make sure the security guard doesn’t see you.”
“He never does.”
“Nice job tonight,” Z said before killing the call.
Prescott opened the sunroof and drove toward the nation’s capital listening to the wind whipping into the vehicle. He thought about that poor realtor who’d simply been doing her job, then his thoughts jumped to Maul.
He was confident he’d wasted him. Prescott was a trained killer who did not miss.
Maul’s bloated body would wash up on the banks of the Rappahannock River and ALPHA could close the case on the only ALPHA Operative who’d gone to prison for killing innocents.
“Rot in hell, motherfucker,” Prescott ground out as the miles ticked by.
2
THE BREAKUP
Jacqueline
Jacqueline Hartley entered the busy San Francisco restaurant and glanced around. When she didn’t spot him, she checked her phone. Nothing. As she waited near the hostess stand, her attention was hijacked by someone waving their arms.
It was Jeff.
Flailing is one way to get my attention.
Forcing a smile, Jacqueline made her way over to the booth. Jeff sat back down, lifted his glass. “I started without you. A mimosa.”
As she slid in across from him, her guts churned. “I can’t stay long.”
His expression dropped. “Why not?”
“I’ve got to get to the airport,” she replied as the server appeared. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
The waiter jumped his gaze to Jeff. “Are you ready to order?”
