Free D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) by James P. Sumner Page A

he asked, regaining a hint of confidence. “I got a gun pointing right at you.”
    Jericho nodded. “Yes, you do… but you’ve got the safety on.”
    The man’s eyes went wide with panic, and he shifted his gaze to the weapon. In that split second, Jericho charged forward, covering the minimal distance between them in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the guy’s wrist, twisting it away from the body so the reflex caused him to loosen his grip and drop the weapon. As it clattered to the floor, Jericho launched a thunderous right elbow—the point of which, along with the bulk of his large forearm, connected with the man’s left temple. He let out a low grunt as the consciousness was smashed out of him, and he hit the ground with a dull thud.
    Jericho took a step back and scanned the area, making sure no one else was coming. Satisfied he was alone, he checked the man’s pockets and found a handful of small bags, each containing varying measurements of cocaine.
    He shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
    Even though the president had legalized cocaine, people still sought to make money from selling cheap, and presumably poor quality, imitations to gullible idiots looking for a quick score.
    He put the drugs back in the guy’s pocket and continued his search, quickly finding a roll of cash and a cell phone. He counted close to a thousand bucks, which was useful. He stuffed the money and the phone in his pockets, and reached over to retrieve the gun, which had landed a couple of feet away from them. He stood, looking at it with a wry smile as he flicked the safety on, and then tucked it in his waistband, pulling his T-shirt down to cover it.
    He checked the other two guys, but found nothing besides a couple of hundred dollars between them. “Every little helps,” muttered Jericho to himself, adding their cash to his new wad.
    He looked around one last time, and then made his way back to the street. He re-entered the crowd of eager partygoers, mingling casually for a moment or two before strolling back across the road and climbing in behind the wheel.
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash, dropping it on Julie’s lap. She stared at it, surprised.
    “Where the hell did you get all that?” she asked. “There must be close to a thousand dollars there!”
    “Twelve hundred,” corrected Jericho, shrugging. “Like I said, a place like this… you just have to know where to look.”
    He gunned the engine, spun the car around and drove back to the hotel they had found earlier in the day, parking in the same space as before.
    “Book us in for one night,” Jericho said to her as they walked through the main entrance and across the small foyer. “You’re less memorable.”
    “Gee, thanks…” she responded, sounding slightly disgruntled.
    “I just mean we’re trying to keep a low profile, and if anyone’s questioned, they’re more likely to remember a guy who’s six-five with half his head wrapped in bandages.”
    “I know what you mean,” she said, smiling. “Is one night long enough?”
    Jericho nodded. “By the morning, I’ll know exactly what we need to do, don’t worry.”
    Julie approached the young woman sitting behind the desk while he hung back, casually checking out the place. The décor was simple, yet effective. There was minimal furnishing in the entrance, with a stand in the left corner by the door that had several different pamphlets detailing local attractions. The floor was plain, clean tiling, and the front desk facing the doors was a simple counter, about waist height, with two people sitting behind it. The elevators and stairs were off to the right.
    After a few minutes, Julie returned, holding a swipe card.
    “They only had a double left,” she said, looking sheepish and a little awkward. “Sorry.”
    Jericho shook his head. “That’s fine—I’ll take the floor. I’ve slept on worse.” He turned and strode over to the elevator, pressing the button to call