In his experience, Reaper always liked to use the top floors. It never made any sense to him because at the top, you had to come down. Reaper once told him it gave him a chance to get away.
For Preacher, the ground floor was the best get away, with at least three exits. If there was a front or back, always have a side entrance no one knew about. It was how he always got away without anyone following him. By the time they realized he wasn’t there or if he was, he was gone.
He found the back stairs and he made his way up each flight. When he got to a floor, he’d stop to check inside each window that overlooked the floor.
No one was there. Not a single sign of anyone.
Moving up, he finally came to the sixth floor and stopped. He heard music. It was faint.
Turning off his flashlight, he looked toward the window of the door. There in the center of the room were several computer screens, and someone sat behind them. Opening the door, Preacher slid through and listened. The man in question had music on so loud through headphones on his head, he couldn’t hear a thing.
The man was typing at the keyboard at such a speed it would have easily given him a headache.
He didn’t signal for his men.
It looked like he’d somehow been able to use a portable battery in order to fire up the computers without giving off a signal the building was in use. He’d have to let Billy know his contact didn’t know jack shit about checking out the building to see if it was empty or not.
Preacher stood for several minutes, watching what the man was doing. From the looks of it, he was looking for Robin. He didn’t know for sure, but he saw her name and then of course there were a couple of pictures of her from the hospital.
He’d seen enough. Stepping forward, he grabbed the man’s head and slammed it forward.
A cry filled the room. Preacher fisted his hair and pulled him away, spinning him around, and he slammed his fist against his face, hearing the crunch of bone. The sound sent a thrill down his spine.
He wanted to hurt someone and this man, he may never have met Robin, but something in his gut told him he was working for Reaper to get her back. Anyone who worked for Reaper was on his shit list, and they had a very short life span once he got a hold of them.
Hitting him again, he used his head to slam against one of the computers, smashing the screen.
“Please, stop. Please, stop.”
Preacher shoved him back down in the seat. “I’m guessing you weren’t expecting any visitors.”
The man lifted his hand to his face and cried out. “You broke my nose.”
“You shouldn’t be worried about your nose. It’s the least of your worries.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do? It’s a loaded question, really. There’s a lot I really want to do, and I kind of need you to tell me what you’re doing looking at this girl on your pretty flashing screens.” He pointed to the picture of Robin.
“I’ve been asked to keep an eye on her. That’s all. I’m just following orders, I swear. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Who’s telling you?”
“Reaper. He wants to know what the girl is up to at all times. It’s important to him. I’m supposed to let him know when I see a chance for him to take her again.”
Preacher hit him, once, twice, and a third time. No matter how many times he hit the man, the pleasure didn’t come. He wanted to feel something, to help ease this rage within him.
The man cried out. “Please. I’m only doing what I’m supposed to do.”
Grave and Frost arrived just as the man’s cell phone rang.
“That’s him. He wants an update. I swear I don’t know what all of this is about. I’m new to all of this. I owe him a favor and this is what he asked of me. I don’t want no trouble. I promise. I’m a good guy.”
Preacher didn’t believe him. A good guy didn’t sit in an abandoned old factory with a bunch of computers, hunting for a girl he didn’t know.
Taking his cell phone from him, he clicked on accept call and put the device to his ear.
“What do you have for me, Milo?”
Preacher would recognize that voice from anywhere. It didn’t matter how many years ago it had been, or how long. That voice he’d been hunting for a long time now.
“Hello, Reaper,” he said, putting the call to speakerphone.
“Preacher, I should have known you’d find my contact.”
He pulled on Milo’s hair and the guy screamed. “Did you promise him you’d protect him? I’ve got to say, Reaper, you’re not very good at keeping promises, but then as my memory serves, you never were. You were the kind of guy who dumped people into shit and ran.”