Dead Wrong (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 7) Jack Patterson (good beach reads .txt) 📖

saw me. Or even know that you’re on to them.”

“Did you check the street?”

“Yes, several times. It’s clear. You’re good. Just hurry home, okay?”

“I’m headed to my car now. By the way, how’s Maddie? And your mom?”

“They’re both great. Maddie wants you to kiss her when you get home, but I doubt she’ll be awake. No matter how much sugar my mom fed her, her eyes looked heavy to me.”

“Consider it done. I’ll be home in about forty-five minutes.”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

“You too.”

Cal hung up and scampered down the remaining steps until he walked outside. The air had a bite to it that made him shiver.

He called Corliss, but he didn’t answer. He left him a message to find out if he’d identified the men in the picture.

If the men were indeed Bratva, it created quite a wrinkle to this investigation that Cal didn’t see coming—until now.

Cal cruised down several surface streets to avoid a major construction project on the Beltway. He checked his rearview mirror. He was alone.

Maybe all three of these suspects are colluding because somebody had to kill Kelvin Jameson. This isn’t so black and white.

He turned onto another surface street and remained deep in thought until he felt a jolt from behind.

What the—

Then another one.

Before he knew it, his car spun twice before coming to a stop. A dark sedan pulled in front of Cal’s car to prevent him from getting away. Then two men jumped out of the car, guns trained on Cal.

“Get outta the car, Cal Murphy,” one of the men yelled.

Cal opened the door slowly and raised his hands. He didn’t say a word.

In a matter of seconds, two men pounced on him before dragging him to his feet and shoving him into their car as they sped away.

CHAPTER 38

SCOTT PERRY RUSHED around his house, shoving clothes and other valuables into one of his suitcases. He hardly stopped to speak to Scarlett, who watched his circus act in disbelief.

“What on earth do you think you’re doin’?” she asked.

“I’ve got a flight to catch,” he snapped. He stumbled over a pair of stray shoes before he kicked them against the wall.

Scarlett hustled across the room with him, staying within a foot of him at all times. Out of the corner of his eye, Perry could tell she was trying to get him to look directly at her. So, he ignored her, choosing instead to focus on gathering his belongings for the trip.

“At this time of night?” She shuffled with him.

Still no response.

“I’ve never seen you blast off like this before,” she said, dogged to get eye contact with him.

Perry realized, like everything else with Scarlett, this wasn’t going away. She’d continue to harass him until the moment he left the house—and he didn’t have time for it.

“Gotta small window of opportunity to talk with a potential signee for the agency,” he finally answered as he piled more clothes into his suitcase.

“But really? On a Friday night, you’re just going to jet out of here on a red eye?”

On his knees as he organized the clothes in his luggage, he looked up at her. “You’re the one who says I need to provide for this family. And this is how I do it.” He returned to his task.

That ought to shut her up.

Scarlett stormed out of the room. Perry presumed she was headed for their wine cellar. It’d be just enough time to collect his bags and peek in on his girls one last time.

They were the only factors that gave him pause to go through with his plan.

What kind of man leaves his daughters?

The kind of man who has someone murdered, that’s who.

It was too late to lament his chain of poor decisions borne out of anger. And as much as he loved his daughters, he knew it was only a matter of time before his misdeeds caught up with him and sent him to prison. Once that occurred, he knew he’d never see them again anyway.

At least this way there’s a chance we’ll see each other again.

Perry knew the thought was nothing more than a shard of a dream, the kind with sharp edges marked by regret.

He slipped into each of their rooms where they slept soundly. He gave both of them a soft kiss on the cheek and tried to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes.

The internal debate raged within him.

You don’t have to do this. There’s still time.

It’s over and you know it. Scram before the ball and chain returns.

Perry heard Scarlett’s heavy footfalls on the staircase leading up from the cellar. He didn’t want to face her again—ever again. He needed to move, as he still needed to swing by his office before he caught the red eye flight to Lisbon.

He stole across the house and into the garage before Scarlett resurfaced.

Perry wished he had a time machine to whisk him back to the point before he had made a rash decision. But he didn’t. He only had a plane.

And it wasn’t going to wait for him.

CHAPTER 39

CAL OPENED HIS EYES to an unfamiliar face squinting at him. Within seconds, he felt the rope bindings that tethered him to a chair. Sweat beaded up on the man’s baldhead as he blew smoke into Cal’s face. Cal counted at least two teeth missing before identifing a Bratva tattoo on the man’s right forearm.

This isn’t good.

The man’s English likely matched his temperament: brutal.

“What you doin’, Mr. Cal Murphy? You not very smart?”

The roar of laughter distracted Cal for a moment as he tried to crane his neck to see the party happening thirty feet away. The din of merriment made Cal curious.

Where am I? And why are those guys ignoring me?

Cal couldn’t think of one instance where the fact that a thug had him tied to a chair and was talking to him one-on-one would ever yield a positive outcome. He tried to enumerate his