CHAPTER 2
Two men emerged. The first was a middle-aged man with dark blonde hair. He had the muscular build of a former soldier and carried what looked like a customized rifle. He walked a lap around our van, c*****g his weapon. “Are we really going to play this game, little girl?” he asked in a deep, menacing voice that was clearly at least forty percent acting.
I banged on the wall, daring him to fire. “Who you calling a little girl?” That bought me a few minutes. To kill me right away would have been seen as unprofessional in his line of work. I knew I needed to find a weapon of my own. I had no guns, but a g*n wouldn’t have helped me. After all, you can’t kill what’s already dead.
I took a peek at their current positions via the rearview mirror. The second man was a typical surfer/f
