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McKinley listened to the background noise of the laser printers whirring in that large rented warehouse. His ears perked at the clack of footsteps growing closer to his office. He looked up and waited. Moments later, a heavy rap sounded on the steel door.
McKinley pulled out the loaded .38 Smith & Wesson revolver, cocked the hammer, and fired two shots, one to the forehead of each man. He watched as the impact threw them against the wall, then they slid to the floor. Blood spray and bone fragments spattered the room. “That’s where you’re wrong, smart-ass. There’s always a choice.”
“Marco, come in here, please.” McKinley hung up the desk phone and waited for Marco to knock on his door. Minutes later he heard footsteps, then the knock sounded. “Come in.”
“There was a locked patio slider, but I lifted it out of the track. Let’s go.”
Jack chimed in. “They’re smart enough to use real paper. It’s the wrong paper stock that usually gives away counterfeit money, not the printing process. People don’t usually check the smaller denomination bills, either. It’s the fifties and hundreds that are scrutinized.”
I glanced at the text Jade had just sent me asking what time we were going to Shooters that night. I sent off a quick response saying that everyone planned to meet there at eight o’clock. I’d go home, eat, shower, and change clothes. She and I would pick up Kate, and we’d drive to the bar together.
Jack placed the handset back on the base. He walked around his desk and stood against the doorframe. “Milwaukee PD is headed to Royce Denning’s house as we speak. Luckily, he has a few outstanding warrants that fell between the cracks. They’re going to pick him up. They can hold him for twenty-four hours on those old warrants alone.”
