Colorado Fire - Colorado Heart 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

kind of crap."
    "Please, I really need to catch up with my friend."
    The cabbie turned to stare at him, his eyes narrowed like Grant was crazy. He'd been lucky before, finding a guy who could follow like a pro. This guy's response was more like what he expected.
    Grant grabbed a few pounds out of his pocket and paid the driver. He headed in the opposite direction of Craig's flat, not waning the cabbie to stick around and see him try to break into the apartment.
    After a minute, once he was sure the taxi had gone, Grant turned and headed to Craig's place, using his lock picking skills to enter. Slowly, he slid the door open enough for him to step through. A cabinet banged, most likely in the kitchen. Grant froze. Fuck, he'd forgotten about the other man in the car.
    "Chérie, tu es déjà de retour?" The guy called out from the kitchen. "Laisse tomber pour l'argent. Je t'ai déjà dit mille fois—" The man, tall and thin, stood in the doorway, his lips rounded in an O, shock evident on his face.
    Grant didn't hesitate and was already halfway across the room before the other man moved. He couldn’t allow this guy to get outside or to use a phone. He doubted there was a back door to this small flat, but he couldn’t depend on assumptions. Quick steps and a leap over a small chair had Grant in the kitchen door, finding the man tapping buttons on a phone. The guy's fingers shook and he cursed, clicking the phone off before trying to dial again. It was an older house phone that beeped as the man pressed the buttons. In two steps, Grant had the phone in hand, ripping it out of the other guy's grasp.
    "Where is he?" Grant growled.
    Cowering and crying, the man slumped against the refrigerator and slid to the ground. Grant grabbed his shirt, pulling him to standing. He not only had height on the man, but muscle too. This man must be Craig's lover or something, certainly not an operative.
    "Tell me, now. Where is he?" Grant waited but the man wasn't saying anything. The guy was young, and his face had few lines marking it to show any passage of time. His eyes were blue and his hair blond, his features almost elfin. Maybe he didn't speak English. Grant's French wasn't very good, but the guy didn't respond at all when Grant spoke in halting French. He tried German and Russian. Still nothing.
    He couldn’t trust that Craig wouldn’t return. Glancing at the stove, Grant noticed the pot of boiling water, spaghetti at the ready, and sauce on the back burner. No bread sat on the counter or table. Craig would be back any minute, and Grant needed to have the situation contained.
    It took two seconds to make the decision to knock the guy out. A quick strike to the side of the man's head had him down for the count. Grant picked him up, carrying him through the apartment. The bedroom was just off the living area. Grant gambled that if this guy woke up, he'd make a lot of noise. He opened a door, revealing a closet full of clothes and travel bags. Grant didn't have a choice so he laid the man on top of the bags, finding a belt to cinch his legs and a tie to secure his arms behind him. Working with a body that was out cold and didn't help him was harder than tying up a conscious man. Even with a person who was alert and fighting, he could induce them to help. This guy was worse than a limp noodle.
    After finishing the task, Grant shoved part of a shirt in the man's mouth, making sure he could still breathe before shutting the closet door. When Craig came home with bread, he'd head to the kitchen. Grant did a quick sweep, looking for obvious hiding spots for guns. He found a Glock under the mattress and one in a drawer. He took both. Using a gun was messy and loud. He didn't want that type of attention, and since guns weren't used often in the England, a noise complaint would be called in.
    After doing a quick check in the living room, Grant moved to the kitchen, turning off the burners and emptying the hot tomato sauce and water down the drain.