Johnson stiffened at the image on the phone of his wife and child walking through a mall.
“I know how important family is, Johnson, and I have people watching them right now, waiting for my orders. Do you want your wife to die? Do you want your daughter dead, too?”
“Okay,” he ground out through his teeth, eyes watering. “What do you want from me?”
“The name of the person who instructed you to send Faith after me.”
“It was my decision alone.” His voice was hoarse.
Omair pressed the dagger harder against the carotid pumping furiously in Johnson’s neck. Skin broke and blood began to dribble to his collar.
“I don’t believe you really want to take this one for the team, Johnson. Your orders came from higher up. I want the name of the man who ordered me dead or I give my men the order to pick up your wife and child.”
He swallowed against the blade. “Okay, okay. His name is—”
But the sound of a motorbike thundering into the parking garage stopped him. Johnson’s gaze flashed toward the sound. So did Omair’s. Tires squealed as the bike roared around the corner, past them.
Omair ducked quickly behind a post as a soft thwock sounded. The bike roared off. Johnson’s eyes went white and wide. His body spasmed, and a small, dark hole in the middle of his forehead started to ooze.
Omair watched from the shadows as Travis Johnson’s body slid to the ground, taking his secrets and a possible link to the New Moor with him. Omair and Faith might have won this battle—and found love in the process—but the war against the Al Arif family was not yet over.