The Edge of Trust: Team Edge Read Online Free

sobbing.  “ Dios , they are dying.  Help us.  Help us, please.”
    Odd.  No blood shown on the man’s hands, nor clothes.  If his wife were actually in trouble—“Shoot him, you fool!  Ram the car!”  Rafe slapped Chavez on the shoulder.  “He’s lying!  Dammit, shoot him!”
    Chavez raised the gun, and at that instant the sobbing man grabbed the barrel of the weapon and rammed it butt first into the driver’s face. 
    Chavez howled as blood erupted from his nose and mouth.
    Before Rafael could draw his own weapon, the peasant had a .357 trained mere inches from Rafe’s face.  “Open the door slowly and get out.”
    “Do you know who I am?”  Rafe snapped the words in outrage as he opened the rear door.  “You, whoever you are, are a dead man.”  He said the words slowly, making sure the threat was not only heard, but omened.
    “Uh, huh.  Now let’s pretend you’re smart enough to follow orders.  Señor Sanchez.”
    At the mention of his name, Rafael’s simmering anger threatened his good sense.  His hand reached for his gun.
    The Uzi poked him in the ribs.  He let his hand drop.  “How do you know me?”  If he stalled long enough, his men would soon worry, show up and kill this bastard. 
    “Put your weapon on the floor and get out.  Your backup won’t show for eleven more minutes.  And since I won’t endanger the civilians who live here, that means you have five, and only five, minutes before I shoot you.”
    Chavez got out, cursing and bleeding.  Rafael took his time.  He ached to shoot this stranger in the head.  “You seem to know a lot about me.  Perhaps more than is wise.”  
    “Head of the SBC.  Husband of Adoña.  Father of Dreena.”  The man looked directly into Rafe’s eyes.  “Wisdom, I suppose, is a matter of perception.  Now move.”
    Fury that this peasant, this pig , knew about his family nearly drove him back into the car after his gun.
    “Now, now, Rafe.  Let’s not be hasty.”  The man put the .357 in his waistband and motioned with the Uzi.  “Both of you.  Strip.”
    “I will not!”  Rafe spat.  This man was going to die a slow, painful death. 
    The peasant shot Chavez in the foot.
    Chavez screamed and fell to the grimy pavement, then started shucking his clothes like a ten dollar whore.  Damn fool.
    “You have ten seconds.”  He aimed his weapon, this time, at Sanchez.
    Sanchez stripped.  With each piece of dispatched clothing he planned this pig’s death.  When his shirt came off, the man studied him.
    “Nice tat.  Impressive.” 
    Yes, Rafe thought with some ferocity, his canvassed torso, inked back to front in the brilliant and lustrous colors of a tiger’s coat, with front legs and paws running over his arms to his hands, was indeed impressive.  But not nearly as impressive as his temper.
    The man picked up their clothes and climbed into the SUV, leaving Chavez bleeding and Rafael holding nothing but his naked dick.  Minus five million dollars in cash.  Then the peasant, who was not a peasant after all, turned the vehicle the way it had come and drove off, giving them a two-fingered salute, and to Rafael’s amazement, a grin. 
    “ Dios mió ,” he muttered.  He could not help but admire the audacity of a dead man.
     

CHAPTER TWO
     
    Journal Entry
    Days of surveillance.  Following, questioning, bribing.  Laying low.  Painstaking planning and a boatload of luck. 
    The war on drugs has gone into bat-shit crazy high def.  Technicolor, 3D, and in your face.  It’s become a guided missile with no guide.
    This so-called war has become embarrassing.  Billions of dollars spent and so far the DEA has been as effective as a half-wit turtle trying to swim the Atlantic in a Cat 5 hurricane. 
    At any rate, the admiral is tired of getting his ass chewed by certain subcommittees.  Neutralize the supply from the SBC, he said.  The baddest of the badasses.  If I get in, he figures I’ll be undercover for a