Читать книгу Nanny 911 - Julie Miller - Страница 8

“Start the countdown.”

The armed driver in the modified camo uniform floored the accelerator, forcing his five passengers to hold on for their lives as they bounced over the ruts and sand and scrub brush of the arid terrain. “I recommend waiting until we get to a safe distance.”

The one person not wearing mock military garb clung to the Hummer’s passenger seat. “And I recommend you follow my orders to the letter. That’s why I’m paying you, isn’t it?”

“Part of my job is to protect you. There could be fallout here.”

“I didn’t come all this way to miss the show. I want to be here at the beginning, just as I’m looking forward to being there at the end—when I see his face and can revel in his failure.” The anticipation of seeing that arrogant face downcast in broken sorrow, his eyes filled with tears, his clipped voice perhaps begging for mercy, was enough to make one light-headed. Or maybe it was this bone-jarring ride across the Kalahari that was affecting rational thought. The boss gripped the door handle and dashboard and turned to the driver. “Push the button.”

Surrendering to the inevitable winner in this battle of wills, the driver pulled the tiny remote-control switch box from his shirt pocket and activated the countdown. He set the device in his lap, but refused to stop the vehicle. Supposedly, that was the sign of a good leader—putting the safety and well-being of his team first. Too bad not every man in this world believed that.

“Another mile between us and the facility won’t make any difference on this terrain.” The driver slowed his speed a fraction and handed over a pair of military-grade binoculars, ironically designed by Quinn Gallagher, owner of the facility that was growing smaller and smaller beyond the swirl of dust in the vehicle’s side-view mirror. “Here. Take these. You’ll be able to watch the sweat beading on their foreheads when they realize they’ve got no place to run or hide.”

“You’re certain there are only the guards at the gate?”

“You know, for someone who has planned some seriously scary stuff out to the last detail, you’re pretty squeamish about collateral damage.”

“I’m not afraid to kill someone if I have to.” The raging injustice and bone-deep pain swirling through the passenger’s heart made it far easier than even the mercenary driver could imagine to inflict pain without feeling remorse. “But I don’t want a high casualty rate. Too many outsiders would get involved then and he’ll lock down tighter than one of his vaults. Because I’ve mapped my strategy down to the last detail, I need to maintain control of the situation. To do that, each task must be completed the way I’ve directed.”

It was a lesson that had been learned the hard way—that there were steps, deadlines, terrible costs for not getting everything just right. It was a lesson that could never be forgotten.

“You’re the boss.”

“Don’t you forget that.” The enemy had. That was why he had to pay. “If he thinks I’m going to stand by and let him ruin my life, he’s mistaken. I intend to hurt him as badly as he’s hurt me. And I intend to strike where it will hurt him the most.”

“It’s almost time.”

“Stop the car.”

With the advantage of higher ground on the mesa where they’d stopped, the view of the facility was unobstructed. The boss adjusted the binoculars to watch.

“Five, four, three, two—”

The boss held up a hand, demanding silence, wanting to savor this first triumph.

It started as a rumble, a sound so deep they felt the tremors through the ground, vibrating up through their feet and legs seconds before hearing the first pop. Then there was a flash of light, followed by that distinctive whoosh as the initial ignition in the plant’s disposal chamber sucked all the oxygen from the surrounding rooms. There was a split second of silence, the anticipation leaving them all holding their breaths. And then…boom. Boom. Boom! One by one the explosions fired off, each one larger than the last, tearing through the shiny new facility, spewing flames and steel and glass into the air. Thick black smoke coiled upward, forming dense black clouds against the desert’s crystal blue sky. In a matter of seconds, there was nothing left of Gallagher Security Systems’s newest production facility except mangled webs of steel and burning rubble.

The team of mercenaries watching alongside had done their job well. The boss lowered the binoculars and watched it burn, feeling the heat even at this distance.

The satisfaction was intense.

Payback had begun.