Contract to Kill by Andrew Peterson Read Free Book Online Page A

guard would be on foot out here, but it was likely a mobile unit cruised the outside every so often as part of a larger patrol loop. He’d once done something similar during his MP days at Camp Pendleton.
    He kept alternating his surveillance between the vehicles, wondering what this late-night rendezvous was all about and why they needed such a dark and isolated spot.
    Mason raised his hand and the Lexus flashed and chirped again.
    Hahn circled to the far side, while Darla stood behind the trunk, her hand tucked inside her coat. Simultaneously, Hahn and Mason opened the rear passenger doors and backed away.
    Two men had trouble getting out, and Toby saw why. Their hands were secured behind their backs. He couldn’t see a lot of detail, but it looked like they wore formal pants and golf shirts. One of them sported a dark ball cap.
    Hahn escorted his man around the vehicle and shoved him into position next to the other guy. Darla closed both of the sedan’s doors and stood next to Mason.
    With his arms crossed, Mason said something to them. It didn’t look like a well-received comment because the man wearing the ball cap jerked his head forward in a spitting type of motion.
    Toby inwardly cringed as Mason wiped his face.
    It happened fast.
    Mason drove his fist into Ball Cap’s stomach hard enough to detonate organs. Before the guy could recover, Mason swept his foot and sent the guy sprawling.
    The second guy turned to help his buddy, but never got there.
    Darla took him down.
    Mason produced a suppressed pistol and swung it like a hammer. The blow caught the second man on the side of the head. Mason grabbed the guy’s collar, dragged him away from the SUV, and kicked him in the ribs several times.
    The man curled into the fetal position and held still.
    Some kind of heated exchange took place between Ball Cap and Mason. Toby could only hear bits and pieces, but there was no mistaking the word chickenshit being yelled. Still on the ground, Ball Cap made it to his hands and knees, but no farther.
    In a casual move, Mason pointed his pistol at Ball Cap’s head.
    Oh man, no way . . .
    There was no sound, but Toby’s NV registered the brief flash.
    When the other guy tried to get up, Hahn kicked him in the face.
    Toby winced as the man’s jaw absorbed the full brunt of the energy.
    Mason approached the other man and shot him in the head as well. The guy didn’t die right away. His body wrenched in violent spasms for several seconds, then went still. Hahn laughed and made some sort of comparison to a headless snake.
    Toby couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. When he tried to swallow, his mouth was dry. He had no business being out here and cursed himself for meddling. How could he have been so stupid?
    He wanted to run, but if he did that now, they might see him. The sloped bank he used for concealment didn’t extend more than fifty yards along the access road in the direction he needed to go. If he retraced his steps across the baseball field, he’d be out in the open. He should’ve anticipated Mason would have night vision.
    Pinned down, he’d have to wait this out.
    Another contraction from the cold raked his body.
    He watched Hahn use a penlight to sweep the grass, probably looking for Mason’s spent brass. After thirty seconds, Hahn seemed to find what he was looking for. He then arranged the bodies side by side before doing something to their heads, but Toby couldn’t see what he did.
    He’d never seen anyone get killed—let alone murdered—and it sure as hell wasn’t like the movies. There was nothing glamorous or exciting about it. The words “brutal” and “perverse” came to mind. Those were his colleagues out there. How could they simply drive to work like none of this had happened? And he wondered the same thing about himself.
    Toby zeroed in on Darla. She said something to Mason, but he just shrugged as if to say, That wasn’t so bad .
    A few seconds later, the image in his NV