Page 78 of Durango

“Trust me, Durango won’t just tell them unless he has a plan. He’ll stall. And we will find him.”

He seems so sure about it all. I’m not. It’s not that I doubt Durango’s skills. It’s that when people play dirty, you can’t fight them. I found that out the hard way with Tyler.

CHAPTER 24

Durango

I continueto pull on the drywall from the small hole in the wall. It keeps coming out in pebble-size pieces, and I’m making little progress. The wall all around it is rough and clearly has been patched. I’m beginning to wonder if it was reinforced with something as well.

If I find an opening behind this, maybe I can get to the restaurant. There will be people there, and I can use a phone. However, if it isn’t crowded by the time I get there, that would be bad. No, what am I thinking? I’ll go anywhere but the restaurant. I stop and rub my head. I’m still under the influence of whatever they gave me and not thinking clearly.

The door down the hall opens, and I immediately lie down away from the wall and pretend like I’m sleeping.

“Wake up!” It’s the same man from last night.

I open my eyes and sit up.

“Now you will tell me everything Damien said to you in the woods.”

This man knows I was in the woods with Damien? He likely knows who killed Damien, too.

“Why do you think I was in the woods with Damien?”

The metal slat opens, and before I realize what he’s doing, there’s a loud pop and intense pain in my arm. That’s when I see the barrel of the gun coming through the door.

He shot me. I check out my arm, and fortunately, it appears to only be grazed, but it’s a deep enough cut that there’s a lot of blood.

“I’m not fucking around. Tell me what Damien told you.”

The gun is still pointed at me. I have no doubt if I tell him what he wants to know, he’ll finish me off. I need to buy more time.

I place my hand over my wound and apply pressure. “Damien told me he knew where some missiles were.”

“Good, now we are getting somewhere.” He pulls the gun back and closes the metal slat. “Where are they?”

“Romania,” I say.

“I understand he gave you much more detail than that.”

“He did. I’m just struggling to remember it all right now. What did you give me? I can’t think straight.”

He sighs in disgust. “Tell me what you do remember.”

I think about how to stretch this information out to give me more time. “He told me his wife doesn’t understand Russian.” My eyes grow heavy, so I move up against the wall.

“I don’t care about that. Tell me where the missiles are.”

I frown. “He said there was a convoy. It must be near there.”

I slur the last few words, then let my head slump over. Hopefully, he’ll believe I passed out. He’s not coming in here to make sure I’m not lying.

“Shit!” He takes a few footsteps away. “He passed out again. I need the damn coordinates!” An accent comes out when he’s yelling at someone. I can’t quite place it.

His shoes shuffle, and I’d bet money he’s peeking in on me again to see if I moved. “He better be awake after lunch, or else you get to deal with her.” Footsteps fade away, and then the sound of voices and utensils clanging come through. He left.

But I still don’t move until I’m absolutely sure no one is coming back. The entire time, I’m wondering who “her” is.

I take off my T-shirt and wrap it around my arm to slow the bleeding. I get back to work on the drywall, moving in the other direction away from the patch job. A large chunk comes off, but unfortunately, there is no window behind it. Instead, I’m staring at a wall of two-by-fours. I keep going, ripping the drywall toward the back of the room. At this point, anyone can see the damage from the window in the door.

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