Chapter 18

Had Carter wanted to blow us away, he could have because of his sniper qualities. Truth told, he could have murdered the two of us for trespassing inside his farmhouse. Carter chose the latter, grinning from ear to ear, obviously happy to be holding a gun in his hands again and firing it at human targets like the dirty motherfucking towelheads in Iraq.

“Lower your weapon!” Sander yelled, following the instruction of his own outburst.

Carter didn’t lower his weapon, aiming it directly at Sander’s forehead. “You’re here for the money, aren’t you?”

Sander nodded. “All of it. Not a portion. Seven grand. Where is it?”