The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

a good customer. You know, I don't want to be the guy who killed the golden goose."

"You said you're not going to kill me," Carson pressed.

The two guards pointed their weapons at him, taking a cautious step back.

"Through the door, please," Bert said.

He walked over to it and pushed it open. Hot, muggy South Florida air rushed into the study.

Carson exhaled and trudged across the room. His mind raced with ideas of how to get out of this, but the guards, the bookie, even Deno, were playing it safe, keeping their distance from the former Delta Force operator's deadly reach. Bert led the way, backing out through the door, keeping his barrel pointed straight at Carson's chest.

When everyone was outside, the last guard through the door closed it shut and stepped to the side.

"Now what?" Carson asked, throwing his hands out wide. "You took my guns. You gonna shoot me here in your garden? Your neighbors will hear that, Bert. Cops will come. Federal investigators too. You should have killed me in your house, called it self-defense. You can't shoot a man outside."

Bert's head turned from side to side in a deliberate, slow movement. The grim look in his eyes betrayed no fear, no concern.

"Like I said, Carson. I'm not going to kill you."

Carson flinched at the sound of his real name. There was no way the Puerto Rican could know that.

"What did you call me?" he asked, fear suddenly trickling into his throat.

"He called you Carson, Carson." A new voice entered the conversation from behind the row of bushes.

Then an apparition stepped out of the maze, a ghost that had haunted Carson's mind in his most paranoid of moments.

"Dak?" he said, bewilderment cracking his tone.

Dak nodded. "Yeah, Carson. It's me. And Bert wasn't lying to you. He's not going to kill you." He paused, cocking his head to the side and meeting Carson's gaze with his own icy glare. "I am."

Thirteen

Miami

Carson stared at his former friend with a mixture of loathing and disbelief. The last time he'd seen him was just before Bo ordered the cave exit sealed, and they'd left Dak inside to die.

Of course, Carson knew about Dak's return to base in Hamrin after his inexplicable escape.

"How did you get out of that cave?" Carson asked, stretching his neck muscles with a twitch of the head to each side.

Bert and his men shifted backward, keeping their weapons at their sides, but ready to whip them into action if necessary. As the men moved, they formed a wide circle around the two opponents.

Dak cocked his head to one side and flipped his hands up like a magician showing there were no tricks up his sleeves. "Does it matter?"

Carson took a suspicious glance at Bert and the others. "So, what? You're going to fight me? Is that it? These guys aren't going to interfere?"

Dak's head turned dramatically back and forth. "Nope. In fact, I told them that if you beat me, they're to let you go free. I'll have to trust Bert's word on that one."

Carson snorted at the notion.

"But that's not going to happen," Dak added. "You left me to die in that cave, Carson. You and the others. You were my brother. All of you were my brothers. And you stabbed me in the back. For what? Thirty pieces of silver?"

A warm breeze flowed through the yard, rustling the bushes and tossing the palm leaves overhead. The long tree trunks bent and swayed. A few of them creaked under the strain, though they'd certainly seen much worse in tropical storms and hurricanes.

"That what you think, Dak?" Carson spat. He shifted his feet, moving slightly to the right. "You think you're some kind of martyr for turning down that money? No one knows about it, Dak. No one will. It was free money, and you turned it down for what? Huh? Some ridiculous, ill-placed morals?"

"It's not about the money now, Carson. No price is worth killing a brother."

"Oh, yeah?" Carson inclined his head. "But you're not dead, are you? You're alive and well, free to live your life."

"Hardly," Dak corrected. "I'm a wanted man, in case you forgot. The colonel won't stop until he finds me or I clear my name. I don't see much chance for the latter, so I'm going to have to take you all down one at a time."

Carson snuffed at that one. "You think you can get to all of us?"

Dak put his hands out wide. The gesture gave his answer.

"Well, I don't know where the rest of them are, but you're welcome to go after the colonel if you want to. You'll have to get through an entire base, though, so good luck with that. Then again, you're not going to leave this lawn alive today."

"That may be," Dak conceded. "Maybe you do beat me. You're stronger than me. No doubt about that. I guess that's a risk I'm willing to take."

"You should have had Bert and his goons shoot me when you had the chance."

"Maybe I should have stayed in that cave too, huh? But here I am. So, if you're done talking, I've been wanting to hit you for six months now. I'm curious if it will feel as good as I imagined."

In his mind, the dance had already begun and the longer he could draw things out, the better he could plan his attack. Not that he had to do much planning. He'd served with Carson for years, fought alongside him in firefights, and hand-to-hand combat. He knew Carson's moves. Maybe Carson knew his too. He had to assume that was the case.

Bert and his guards took additional steps back to give the two fighters plenty of room to operate.

Carson shook his head like a horse, tossing it back and forth to try to reinforce what a mistake Dak was making.

Dak didn't show a blink of emotion. His vapid eyes glowered at his opponent like only the eyes of a man who'd already seen death could.

Carson stepped in closer, shifting his