The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set Ernest Dempsey (top 10 books of all time txt) 📖

played out in Carson's mind as he crossed the bridge onto Allison Island and made a left onto the avenue leading to Bert's place.

He pulled the Aston Martin up to the gate and rolled down the window. His high-end luxury car would have fit in anywhere Miami elites preferred to be, and this neighborhood was no different.

He looked out the window at a tiny fisheye camera set in a four-foot-high concrete pillar with a keypad beneath it. For a second, he wondered if he had to dial a number or something, but then the gate raised from the right side.

Carson drove through and parked the car in a guest parking area off to the right of the driveway. The red and gray paving stones continued farther, passing under an archway where a guest house or perhaps a maintenance building was attached to the main house by a covered walkway.

A quick check at his ankle told him the extra firearm concealed under his gray slacks was still intact.

He got out of the car, walked to the back, and pulled the rucksack out of the trunk before turning and heading toward the front door.

Still no security. No guards stepped out of the building to welcome or threaten him. It was odd, but not everyone was as careful or borderline paranoid as him.

He looked back at the gate as it lowered into place and then walked purposefully to the arched entryway of the mansion. He climbed the four steps and paused at the massive oak door. It featured reliefs of angels and demons carved into its surface and a boxed wrought iron cage in the middle near the top where anyone inside could look out to check who dared visit.

Carson reached over and pressed the doorbell button and waited.

An intercom speaker over the button crackled and then Bert's voice came through, "Thank you for coming, Baker. I appreciate it. The door is open, come on in. I'm in my study. Straight ahead and then make a right through the living room. It's the open door past the grand piano."

That was odd, Carson thought. Then again, Bert was odd, and unaware of any danger that might be lurking just outside his home, specifically in the form of Carson Williams.

Carson nodded and pressed the latch, pushed open the heavy door, and stepped inside.

Twelve

Miami

Standing inside the mansion's foyer, Carson looked around, rapidly taking in the interior's layout. Bert's laziness in not greeting him at the door, or the very least, sending one of his goons to let the guest in, could prove to be a grave error.

Twin staircases on either side of the atrium twisted up to the second level. The oak banister atop a wrought iron railing matched the door. Red Spanish tiles covered the floor and ran toward the back of the house, passing under an archway where the two staircases met. Plants adorned the windows and alcoves.

No pictures lined the walls, which was no surprise. Bert didn't have a wife or children, and posting pictures of himself on vacations would be vain even for a man like him.

Carson checked to make sure his untucked shirt hung over the pistol at his side. The gun was tucked into the inner portion of his pants, but he welcomed any extra concealment he could utilize.

A guard stepped out from a doorway with a grin on his face. Carson immediately recognized the grinning, muscular man.

"What's up, Deno?" Carson said, casually. "Where's the boss?" He tried to act as normal as possible for someone who was supposedly about to give up a fortune on a gambling debt. Act too happy, and Deno might suspect something was up. Act too abrasive, and there could be trouble before Carson wanted. Everything needed to follow a specific set of plans before any violence took place. Most importantly, Carson had to be the one to initiate it. Being on the defensive was fine, but in this situation, he wanted to be the one who shot first.

"Here to pay up?" Deno asked in a gloating tone.

"Yeah," Carson said. "You could say that." He didn't want to overplay his hand, but he wasn't going to give this idiot any satisfaction. He looked like he was a reject from one of those New Jersey Shore reality shows. His T-shirt was too small, probably intentionally to show off his bulging muscles. He struck Carson as the kind of tool who'd hit the gym just before a date so he could look as muscular as possible.

"Big hit you took yesterday, bro. I hope you got more where that came from." He held a toothpick between his fingers and twirled it for a few seconds before slipping it into his mouth. He spied the bag on Carson's shoulder. "The money in there?"

"Yep."

"Hand it over and I'll take it to the boss." Deno took a step toward the visitor.

"No," Carson said. "I'll take it to him myself."

"Whoa," Deno said, putting his hands up innocently. "I was just trying to help, but be my guest. Straight ahead, amigo. Make a right. You'll find the man in his study."

"Yeah, I know. Past the grand piano."

Deno nodded. "I'll be here if you need anything," he said and turned to go back into the kitchen.

Idiot, Carson thought. I will definitely kill him.

He briefly considered shooting him in the back right then and there, but doing so would tip off the entire fortress and send an alarm to every nook and cranny in the compound.

Still, Carson hadn't seen any other guards. With all the resources at Bert's disposal, how could he be so careless?

Carson tossed aside the questions and sauntered through the archway into the great room at the rear of the building. Giant windows reached to the vaulted ceiling, making the entire back wall look like it was made of glass. Through the extravagant windows, a long pool stretched away from the house, surrounded by lounge chairs and sofas, drink tables, and two round tables shaded by dark green umbrellas.

Beyond the