Cold Heat
“You really think this is a smart idea?”
There was nothing left to do but ask questions. Holed up in an unfurnished Manhattan apartment, tied to an uncomfortable folding chair, sitting in front of some sort of jerry-rigged track-and-rail system wasn’t exactly a position Marquis expected to be in when he’d opened the Bureau’s trouble ticket email that morning.
Two hours and a few bruises later, things were getting intense.
“Smart idea? It’s the best damned idea anyone’s ever had.”
Marquis just knew the bastard was smirking behind the balaclava even though it covered everything but the punk’s bulging eyes.
“Smart idea…” the man trailed off with a derisive tone. He took a step toward his similarly-dressed partner holding an M16 dialed in on Marquis’s forehead. “This guy acts l
