Free Heavy Artillery Husband by Debra Webb Page A

dry.”
    â€œEase up,” the kid said. “No one was going to leave you in prison. You should’ve been patient. A man’s word is his bond.”
    Neither Halloran’s “word” nor Hellfire’s promises had been worth the air wasted to explain them. “Right.” Frank calculated the upcoming stops and how long he could keep this kid talking until he had to get back to Sophia. “My wife and daughter were no threat. Your boss started this when he targeted them. You can tell him I’ll finish it.”
    â€œHey, you’re pissed. I get it.” The kid flared his hands wide, then stuck them in his pockets. “Easy to lose the faith considering that nasty treason charge.” He kept his voice pitched low. “You keep our secrets and this will still work out according to the original agreement.”
    The agreement had a small fortune flowing into an offshore bank account in Frank’s name and a solitary slice of a private beach in the Caribbean. The same bogus agreement that had left his family believing he committed suicide rather than face justice as a traitor. “I can’t ever be me again,” he muttered only loud enough for the kid to hear. “No matter what I choose.”
    â€œJust so we’re clear. Are you threatening Hellfire?”
    â€œNo more than they’re threatening me,” Frank replied.
    â€œThat’s not the kind of response that makes the top brass happy. Check your account,” the kid said. “A good-faith payment is already there.”
    â€œTop brass” implied the kid was working directly for one of the top three retired generals who’d started Hellfire. Maybe Frank could use this—whatever it was—rendezvous to his advantage. He wanted new intel, some solid detail he and Sophia could exploit quickly. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the account. Sure enough, he was wealthy again. Disgust burned in his gut. Halloran had stolen everything from him. Frank’s sole purpose now was to take him down, wrapping it up quickly so Frankie and Sophia could live in peace.
    The train intercom announced the next stop and people shifted around them, preparing to exit. Frank used the shuffling to lift the kid’s wallet. If he could get something helpful out of this kid—something other than an illegal windfall he didn’t want—maybe this little detour would prove worthwhile.
    Why wasn’t the kid asking about Sophia or the missing drug shipment? The question had a new flood of apprehension rushing through Frank.
    â€œI don’t know what they have on you,” he said quietly, testing the reaction, “but I can help if you come to your senses before the next stop.”
    The kid snorted. “You can’t do a damn thing for me if you’re against them.” His lip curled like that of a mean dog sizing up his next attack. “I don’t want anything from an outsider anyway.”
    â€œIs that so?”
    â€œLook, old man, you’ve got one more chance to be smart.”
    The “old man” crack was the last straw. Despite being past his prime, Frank had at least one more good fight left in him. He pretended to consider it while he searched for the most expedient route to the finish line. “Call the shooters off my family,” Frank demanded, holding out the kid’s cell phone.
    The kid shook his head, kept his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have that authority.”
    â€œThen you’re no good to me.” Frank tucked the phone away. With a quick move, he slid his hand up the kid’s arm and pressed on a nerve that turned his arm limp.
    â€œWhat the hell? Wait, you can’t—”
    â€œJust did, son.” Frank stood as the train slowed for the next stop. “I’ve got your wallet, too. If you’re smart, you’ll hurry to the nearest FBI office and trade information for witness protection before