Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7) Jacki Delecki (comprehension books .txt) 📖

“Shut the fuck up. Or I’ll shut you up.”

“Tsk, tsk. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

McDonald pulled his Glock from his jeans. “Take a piss, now!”

Reeves turned and unzipped his fly. What the hell was he thinking by provoking the asshole? Focus. This wasn’t the time. Yet. He stored the idea for future reference of taking one out in the bathroom.

“You could just have said ‘please.’”

At the sight of the gangbanger’s Glock, Reeves suddenly remembered that his Glock was in his computer bag. He had no idea if the guys confiscated the firearm since he had no memory of anything after the scotch. Talk about having a cocaine hangover; he’d lost track of everything, including his firearm. In his defense, this was the first time he had needed to carry a gun. His world was protected, and his only threats were cyber. The Jenkinses would be disappointed to know that despite all of their training, he lost track of his piece. But he’d been poisoned and had seizures, so he hoped it gave him a pass. He really needed a coffee to jumpstart his brain.

Nick had made sure that Reeves had the latest weapon—a Glock 19 Gen 5, faster and with more firepower than McDonald’s older Glock 17. And one rule of thumb with gangbangers was they knew their firearms. His Glock 19 would give him a psychological advantage, but he was still at a disadvantage. McDonald wouldn’t hesitate to kill. It was there in his flat, empty eyes.

Reeves wasn’t discouraged in the least. He’d pit his intelligence against blind brutality any time. And he had a chance that his captors hadn’t checked his bag.

First on his plan—convince his captors to get him coffee. He would have to be at four cups, full strength to finesse his escape.

Reeves dragged his feet and staggered twice. “Tell your bosses not to give you a pharmacist job. I still see pink bunnies. Not sure how much help I can provide.”

Reeves bantered, continuing his assessment of the warehouse as he was led to his room. The only exit was twenty yards from his room, a doable distance. It had the same Schlage lock. He checked for cameras, motion sensors. Two cameras were over the exit, and one over the door to his room. He didn’t want to think about who else the Sureños had held in the room. He noted the smoke detectors and fire alarms on the walls and ceilings. When your shipment was worth millions of dollars, it was essential that your competition did not steal or burn your product.

Things were looking up. He was two locks and two idiots away from freedom. He had to get out of here before Galina arrived. Just the name brought up images of the Gulag and torture.

Although he didn’t need to, Reeves watched McDonald enter the code again, not trusting his memory and concentration. He had never before doubted his capability. He had been identified as gifted by age five. His father was a brilliant mathematician, so it was no surprise when Reeves demonstrated the same facility. No hand-wringing or doubts in his family about what to do with the weird kid. It was accepted that he was brilliant like his esteemed father, who had been lured away from Oxford to teach at Harvard.

“Listen up. If you want me to work, I’m going to require coffee. And a lot of it. You scrambled my brains, and without caffeine, I’m no good to you.”

Muscle sat on one of the chairs, his feet on the table next to Reeves’s bag. “He’s a real pain in the ass.”

“I could go for some food. The crew should be here with the shipment soon.”

McDonald was the weaker link.

“You need to eat again?”

McDonald shrugged. “Babysitting this dumb shit is boring.”

Reeves had to suppress the need to retort, “You won’t be bored soon.”

“Once Galina gets here, you can go. But not for long. Grab it and get back here before the crew arrives. Ramirez won’t be happy if you’re not here when the shipment arrives.”

“I’d like the French dark roast if you’re going to Easy Brew.” Reeves hoped McDonald would give him a clue how far he was from Palo Alto. He could be in San Diego or, God save him, in Tijuana for all he knew. A shiver of apprehension slithered down his spine. He decided not to calculate the probability of his escape. He would never admit it aloud to anyone, but sometimes the numbers lied—only because the human factor was hard to calculate. And Darcy and the Jenkinses would go against all the odds to save him. He had that much faith in them. Of course, they were missing his skills in narrowing down the search, but Izzy was no doubt coming to the rescue.

Reeves lifted a chair and took it to the other side of the table, not wanting to sit next to Muscle. He needed to prevent Muscles from spotting the Glock if it were still in his bag. He thought the chances were close to zero that these guys hadn’t searched the bag. Knowing firepower, how to restrain and harm people, and how to kidnap was Gangbangers 101.

“Do we know when this Galina is going to arrive? And since when do the Sureños take orders from the Russian mob?” Reeves kept talking as he unbuckled the bag. “What’s so special about Galina?”

“Don’t touch your bag until Galina gets here.”

“Why not? It’s my bag, and you guys already opened it?”

“If you’re thinking of shooting your way out of here, forget it. And thanks for the upgrade.” Muscle pulled Reeves’s gun from the back of his jeans.

After his sister’s life had been in danger, Reeves had focused on honing his ability to defend himself and the people he cared about. But he never considered it would be necessary since the Jenkinses stood between him and the bad guys. Now, he was on his own. And he would do what