Free The Nassau Secret (The Lang Reilly Series Book 8) by Gregg Loomis Page A

tightening his grip. “Try that again,” he murmured into the man’s ear, “and I’ll twist your fucking head off.”
                  The threat might not be entirely real but there was no doubt Lang was in position to do considerable damage. A quick snap and the spinal cord could be severed. A bit more pressure and both esophagus and trachea could be closed off or severely damaged.
                  In the meantime, Timmy was slowly circling, forcing Lang and Broken Nose to slowly turn as though in some non- rhythmic dance.
                  “You know what’s good for you,” he threatened, “you’ll let my mate there go.”
                  “You know what’s good for your mate,” Lang retorted, “you’ll drop those knuckles on the ground and disappear.”
                  For emphasis he gave Broken Nose’s neck a jerk and a squeeze. The man cooperated by gagging loudly.
                  “You’re not going to kill him right here on the street,” Timmy said. “And I can wait as long as you can. Longer, actually, because I don’t have to piss away my strength holding on to someone.”
                  Lang had realized the truth of that statement before it was uttered. He had hoped to win a quick victory but now that appeared unlikely.
                  Time for Plan B.
                  Reaching a hand inside the man’s jacket while keeping the pressure of the elbow lock was difficult but Lang almost pulled it off.
                  The second Lang’s right hand slipped from his left elbow and into  the jacket, Broken Nose sensed the easing of tension and made a head first dive, breaking Lang’s grip. He did a flip using his hands on the sidewalk and wound upon his feet.
                  Both he and Timmy advanced.
                  But Lang had made a trade: A death hold for a weapon. His hands now held a Sig Sauer 9mm p226 fresh from its holster inside Broken Nose’s jacket.
                  Both men stopped as though frozen. Broken Nose felt for the gun that was no longer there.
                  “One shot and the bleedin’ coppers’ll be all over your arse,” Timmy growled. “You don’t have the bollocks.”
                  Lang pulled back the hammer with an audible click. The SIG Sauer p226 was usually carried decocked with a bullet in the chamber in lieu of the nonexistent safety catch. “You’d bet your life on that?”
                  Timmy and Broken Nose exchanged glances.
                  “You’ll be seeing us again. Bet on it,” Broken Nose spat before they turned as one and walked away.
                  Lang stuffed the pistol in his belt. No way he was going to carry it once he was sure the pair had actually gone. A Bahamian jail had little appeal. He inspected the weapon closely, noting the corrosion resistant finish.
                  The German manufactured P226 was the official side arm for military units ranging alphabetically from Bangladesh to the United Kingdom. When the United States finally abandoned the Colt .45 1911A, the P226 had been the first choice to replace it. The complete gun, however, including parts had been more expensive than the Italian Berretta. The Navy SEALS had bought the German gun anyway.
                  Lang was reasonably sure neither the SEALS nor the Bangladesh Army               were after him but the Sig Sauer itself wasn’t going to be much help in identifying Lang’s assailants. He looked again at the finish. Corrosion might be a problem for. . .whom?
                  He used the tail of his shirt to wipe the gun clean before dropping it into one of the dumpsters.

16.
    Dowdeswell Street
    Nassau
    An Hour Later
     
                  Dowdeswell Street was a quiet lane where two story