Page 92 of Unholy Union
He doesn’t answer at first, taking another second to sweep the many faces on the boardwalk.
“I think somebody’s been following us.”
Chapter 19
Cato
Bad Things - Cults
Icatch him at the end of the pier, where the light bulbs are out and brine stinks up the air.
One second he’s running, the next he’s eating the boards as he goes down under my weight. We tumble to the ground with a hard thud against the wood.
Sabrina’s twenty yards away, yelling my name in the dark. I told her to stay back when I sprinted after him. I made a snap decision to do it and didn’t want her getting in the way or possibly getting injured.
It took me a second to even pick him out of the crowd—whoever hired him clearly did their job selecting a prick so boring he blended in that well. I almost didn’t realize what was going on.
About average height and build with short brown hair and a nondescript face. Even his clothes were plain, just a navy t-shirt and jeans.
But as Sabrina and I strolled the boardwalk and enjoyed the sunset, I noticed the same Joe Blow that had been at the Cyclone.
Andthe racetrack.
AndNathan’s.
It could’ve been a coincidence, but as I decided we take a turn left, so did he at a distance. He had been tracking us the entire day. Somebody had sent him here to keep tabs on us.
The question was, who?
I roll the bastard onto his back and slam my fist straight into his face. It’s bone on bone as my knuckles crack against his jaw. His head jerks sideways. He tries to raise his arms in defense, but I anticipate his block and knock them away with a quick swipe of my forearm.
Then I clock him again, dead center in his nose. Blood spurts from his nostrils. His eyes glaze over, becoming unfocused like in the cartoons when a character sees birds circling their head.
Good.
It’s only the beginning.
This asshole—and whoever hired him—had the audacity to think he could get one over on me.
My hand slides to the back of my waistband, fingers wrapping around cold metal. I press the muzzle of the SIG Sauer P226 pistol hard against his temple.
“You have ten seconds to tell me why the fuck you were following us,” I growl. “Or I’m going to blow your skull all the way fucking open. You understand me?”
Footsteps pound behind me, too light to be a threat. Sabrina’s breathy voice calls out, winded from the running she’s done trying to keep up.
“Cato!”
I don’t look at her and I don’t answer. My attention’s locked on the asshole underneath me, whose busted lips spread into a broad grin, showing off his bloodied teeth and gums.
This motherfucker is taunting me.
“Is this funny to you?” I rumble, cocking the hammer with a metallic click. I dig the barrel harder against his skull, watching his grin widen like he thinks this is some kind of game. “See if you think I’m fucking playing. I will splatter your brains on this pier and walk away like it’s nothing. You’ve now got five seconds to answer the fucking question. Who do you work for? Who sent you?”
“Cato!” Sabrina cries frantically.
“What?” I bark, barely holding back the agitation at her interruption. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to see her hovering a few feet off, face panic stricken and eyes wide.
She shakes her head and steps closer. “Please just think for a second. You can’t shoot him here. Not on the boardwalk. People will hear it. There’re cameras everywhere. We’ve been at Coney Island all day. They’ll have plenty of footage of our whereabouts to pin it on us.”
