disconnects and pulls the tiny radio out and hands it to the waiter. “If that isn’t enough, then the meeting is off.”
The waiter nods and backs away. Less than a minute later, a man Ryker has been waiting for more than two years steps onto the patio. Ryker reaches into the small of his back and pulls his weapon.
Read on for an excerpt from the sequel, Warrior's Heart
Now, a sneak peek at the sizzling sequel:
Warrior's Heart
CHAPTER ONE
Petty Officer First Class Ryker Evans, United States Navy, rises from his chair, his Beretta M9 service pistol held at his side as he quickly strides toward the figure stepping onto the patio of the restaurant. Ryker sees the man register the weapon in his hand and watches as his eyes go wide with fear… … as they should.
Ryker grabs the man, whirls him around and slams him backwards against the concrete wall of the restaurant. “You motherfucker! I’m going to kill you right here!” he snarls into the man’s face while pinning him with a forearm to the throat. He shoves the weapon hard under the man’s chin, pointing it upwards. One pull of the trigger and most of the man’s head will disappear in a spray of blood.
The man stands still, afraid to move. His eyes show his fear, show how near death he knows he is, but his voice is calm. “If you kill me you will never find Dr. Baker.”
Ryker can feel his finger begin to tighten on the trigger as his face hardens. He is the fucking angel of death, here to collect this asshole’s soul, if he has one. “You had better talk fast you fuck.”
The man says nothing, standing stock still with his head his pinned to the wall by Ryker’s arm, his wide eyes staring into Ryker’s. With a menacing growl Ryker pulls his arm back from the man’s throat, takes Baltasar by the back of the head, and slams him face first onto the wooden table and places the gun to his temple, pressing hard. With no windows into the restaurant and a chest-high wall surrounding it, unless someone steps onto the patio from inside the restaurant they won’t be seen.
“You had better start talking!”
Baltasar winces in pain as Ryker pushes the weapon hard into the side of his head. “Is this how the vaulted U.S. military interrogates prisoners?”
“No. This is how one pissed off Navy SEAL interrogates a lying, cheating, son of a bitch that caused a lot of good men to be killed. Talk!”
“How do I know you won’t kill me as soon as I tell you what you want to know?”
“You don’t. But if you don’t tell me I will kill you,” Ryker snarls.
Baltasar considers his options and realizes he has none. “I will tell you, but take that fucking gun away from my head.”
Ryker grits his teeth, his mouth working in barely contained rage. He had almost hoped this fucker wouldn’t talk so he could blow his fucking head off. He feels his finger begin to tighten again as he leans in hard, then jerks back, hauling Baltasar off the table and slamming him into a chair. The chair goes over backwards, dumping Baltasar into the floor. Ryker reaches down and hauls the man to his feet, then slams him into another chair, but not quite as hard, causing the chair to rock back but not go over this time.
Ryker knows he is raging out of control, but he can’t help it. Not with his fucker. Two years ago six good men had gone in on a simple smash and grab mission, but only two—he and one other—had come out. All because of this shit Baltasar. He had played them and led them right into a trap.
“Talk!” Ryker snarls, sitting down across from Baltasar. His weapon is still out, pointed directly at him under the table. Gut shooting the bastard would be too good for him… all he needs is an excuse. And Baltasar knows it.
“I know where Dr. Baker is.”
“Where?”
“First I need your guarantee of freedom. I know the CIA is still looking for me. I want them to
The waiter nods and backs away. Less than a minute later, a man Ryker has been waiting for more than two years steps onto the patio. Ryker reaches into the small of his back and pulls his weapon.
Read on for an excerpt from the sequel, Warrior's Heart
Now, a sneak peek at the sizzling sequel:
Warrior's Heart
CHAPTER ONE
Petty Officer First Class Ryker Evans, United States Navy, rises from his chair, his Beretta M9 service pistol held at his side as he quickly strides toward the figure stepping onto the patio of the restaurant. Ryker sees the man register the weapon in his hand and watches as his eyes go wide with fear… … as they should.
Ryker grabs the man, whirls him around and slams him backwards against the concrete wall of the restaurant. “You motherfucker! I’m going to kill you right here!” he snarls into the man’s face while pinning him with a forearm to the throat. He shoves the weapon hard under the man’s chin, pointing it upwards. One pull of the trigger and most of the man’s head will disappear in a spray of blood.
The man stands still, afraid to move. His eyes show his fear, show how near death he knows he is, but his voice is calm. “If you kill me you will never find Dr. Baker.”
Ryker can feel his finger begin to tighten on the trigger as his face hardens. He is the fucking angel of death, here to collect this asshole’s soul, if he has one. “You had better talk fast you fuck.”
The man says nothing, standing stock still with his head his pinned to the wall by Ryker’s arm, his wide eyes staring into Ryker’s. With a menacing growl Ryker pulls his arm back from the man’s throat, takes Baltasar by the back of the head, and slams him face first onto the wooden table and places the gun to his temple, pressing hard. With no windows into the restaurant and a chest-high wall surrounding it, unless someone steps onto the patio from inside the restaurant they won’t be seen.
“You had better start talking!”
Baltasar winces in pain as Ryker pushes the weapon hard into the side of his head. “Is this how the vaulted U.S. military interrogates prisoners?”
“No. This is how one pissed off Navy SEAL interrogates a lying, cheating, son of a bitch that caused a lot of good men to be killed. Talk!”
“How do I know you won’t kill me as soon as I tell you what you want to know?”
“You don’t. But if you don’t tell me I will kill you,” Ryker snarls.
Baltasar considers his options and realizes he has none. “I will tell you, but take that fucking gun away from my head.”
Ryker grits his teeth, his mouth working in barely contained rage. He had almost hoped this fucker wouldn’t talk so he could blow his fucking head off. He feels his finger begin to tighten again as he leans in hard, then jerks back, hauling Baltasar off the table and slamming him into a chair. The chair goes over backwards, dumping Baltasar into the floor. Ryker reaches down and hauls the man to his feet, then slams him into another chair, but not quite as hard, causing the chair to rock back but not go over this time.
Ryker knows he is raging out of control, but he can’t help it. Not with his fucker. Two years ago six good men had gone in on a simple smash and grab mission, but only two—he and one other—had come out. All because of this shit Baltasar. He had played them and led them right into a trap.
“Talk!” Ryker snarls, sitting down across from Baltasar. His weapon is still out, pointed directly at him under the table. Gut shooting the bastard would be too good for him… all he needs is an excuse. And Baltasar knows it.
“I know where Dr. Baker is.”
“Where?”
“First I need your guarantee of freedom. I know the CIA is still looking for me. I want them to
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