His stomach flipped. “What the hell, Alvarez…” he muttered. The bonus, the secrecy, and the strange men at the estate—all of it came rushing back, puzzle pieces clicking into a more complete puzzle that he didn’t want to see.
“Private collection.” “No stops.” “Bonus pay.” Each phrase echoed like a warning he’d ignored. He hadn’t been chosen for his reliability; he’d been chosen because he’d ask no questions. And he hadn’t, until now. He noticed something else he should’ve noticed earlier. Several rusted nails beneath the tires!