The Edge of Trust: Team Edge Read Online Free PDF Page A

I bypassed the small army and high-tech security surrounding your fortress of a home.  I went in.  I went out.  Not one of your men saw me.  You won’t find me on your video surveillance.”  Dillon leaned forward and said in a soft, intimate voice, “I have been in your home.  At night.  I took this locket from your child’s neck while she slept.  If I can get to her once, I assure you I can get to her again.” 
    Sanchez grabbed his gun.  Pointed it at Dillon’s chest.  “Not if I kill you now.”
    Dillon sighed and leaned in toward the barrel of the .44.  “You could.  But you won’t.”
    Rafael thumbed the hammer back.  “No amount of money is worth my daughter’s life.”
    “Exactly,” Dillon said.  “I can protect her.  I can teach your men how real security is run.  And as a show of good faith, I’ll return your money, and of course, your Escalade.”
    Disbelief overshadowed rage.  Contemplation replaced wariness.  “You are either an insolent fool, or the most unfearing man I have ever met.”
    “I’m not the one who was left standing naked in the street.”
    Sanchez leaned back against the worn leather upholstery.  Stared.  And let out a big laugh.  “Insolent and unfearing.”  Still smiling, he leaned forward and said, “You ever do something like that again, I’ll fucking kill you.”  The smile never left his face.  It never met his eyes either.
    “Rafe, buddy.  You’re repeating yourself.”  Dillon twirled the locket around his finger.  “I can protect your family.  Or not.  Your choice.” 
    Sanchez lowered his weapon.  “Why?  Why would you do this?”
    He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and lied.  “A job.  Money.  I’m mercenary that way.”
    Sanchez contemplated.  Weighed options.  Suddenly, he snapped his fingers in the air and said, “Ramon, my music, por favor .”
    Just as Dillon was wondering what the hell , two men grabbed him from behind and slammed him to the floor.  He rolled, started to stand, but the gorillas knocked him back and captured each arm over his head with a heavy boot.  His shoulders ground into the hard floor shooting pain down to his friggin’ kidneys.  He was starting to question just how fucked he really was, even though he’d figured something like this might happen, and half wished he’d gone ahead and worn his clutch piece.  Although, if he’d come here armed, the trust factor he was aiming for would have been blown to hell and the playing field would have gotten a lot bloodier.  But shit, he damn well didn’t like being roughed up.
    When the Stones came back on, Sanchez stood, strutted to the next table and back as the intro to Sympathy for the Devil played.  Agile and graceful as a ballet dancer, the black silk of his suit rolled and shimmered in the light.  Reminded Dillon of Nicolas Cage on a bender, only Sanchez was a lot less hinged.  Sanity had fled and something akin to madness shone in his eyes. 
    When the intro ended, Sanchez sang, “Please allow me to introduce myself,” and kicked Dillon hard in the ribs.  Nausea shot through his stomach.
    Dillon sucked in air and wondered how long before his blood was shed and he’d be a writhing mess on the floor.  When he could finally breathe, and because he was getting a little pissed, his smart-ass mouth got away from him and he said, “Nice boots.  All pointy and shit.  You borrow them from Mick?”
    Raphael’s eyes rolled back, his lips curled, and he did a twisted version of the Rumba before singing, “I’m a man of pain and hate.”
    Just as Dillon was going to correct the song lyrics, Sanchez stomped his solar plexus.  Pain exploded from his chest to his balls.  Fuck, he couldn’t breathe.  Might never breathe again.  Might never see clearly again either as Sanchez backhanded him across the face.  No fist, just a solid backhand meant to humiliate.  Still, his nose started bleeding and his lip split.
    “So you’re Michael Madsen