Sawyer’s amused laughter rented the air and scraped against Chip’s nerves. It wasn’t even like a villain laugh one would imagine. Chip thought it sounded more like something from a mental patient in an asylum.
He slowly lowered the burner phone he had been given to call Lorenzo and glared at the man as he continued to cackle like a deranged hyena.
After a moment, and when most of the annoying laughter had died down, Chip watched as Sawyer brought the barrel of the gun to his own temple and scratched an apparent itch. Damn, Chip wished the gun would somehow go off and splatter Sawyer’s brains all over the back wall of the old warehouse. It would definitely add some color and character to the peeling walls that had long stopped being white and were now the color of vomit. And it would def
