“So they should be here by now, then?”

“Any minute, asshole,” he spat out, his nostrils flaring, and his face full of contempt.

I pressed my gun hard against his forehead. “I’ll give you a head’s up, asshole – we’d grow old waiting for them.”

Understanding dawned on his face – he finally realised I’d fixed the surveillance so it didn’t show anything I was about to do. “Who the fuck are you?”

Yeah, that’s the question I’d be asking, too. I put my hand out while I kept my gun firm against his forehead. Ignoring his question, I said, “Give me the keys to the gate and the code.” Bond’s house had codes all the way through it, but I’d discovered the front gate code changed every hour as an added precaution.

“Fuck you.”

I raised my brows. “Really? You’d rather die here and leave a beautiful family behind that I might be inclined to pay a visit to than give me the goddamn keys?”

His eyes widened. “You’re bullshitting me. You know nothing about me or my family.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I know, Justin. Like the fact your wife attends pilates every Tuesday morning and your daughter goes to swimming lessons every Thursday afternoon after school but only after your wife makes her weekly stop at Baskin Robbins for ice cream.”

He stared at me for a moment, taking all that in. “Motherfucker.”

“Yeah, the world’s a bitch now that we have all this technology, but the kicker is when someone actually knows how to access that information and use it to their advantage. I’m all your nightmares come to life, so hand the fucking keys over and give me the goddamn code.” Time was ticking, and I needed to hurry this along.

He gave me the keys and told me the code.

“Good doing business with you,” I muttered as I eyed the fear on his face. “Take a breath, asshole, I’m not gonna shoot you. It’s Christmas, and you’ve got a family to get home to later. But if you get any ideas to do anything crazy, just recall how much I know about your wife and kids.”

Before he had a chance to say anything, I punched him hard in the face. He dropped to the ground, and I finished the job with a few more punches. I needed him unconscious long enough for me to get in and get out, which I’d calculated had to be ten minutes at the most.

I moved fast, entering through the back gate, and making my way quickly and quietly along the path to the entrance at the back of the building. The map of the house was burned in my memory, and I needed to get to a room on the other side of the house to where I was. I knew through the research I’d conducted last night that most of the housekeeping staff had been given today off due it to being Christmas Day so that made my goal a little easier. But I had, at most, four guys to get through before I reached my target, so I remained alert and focused, ready to deal with them as they came my way.

The rugs on the floor helped silence the sounds of my boots as I tracked through the rooms. Each room had a locked door on it, and thanks to my research, I had the codes for each door, so I keyed them in as I went. Thank God for a photographic memory. I was halfway to my destination when I came across the first guard. He was sitting in front of a television watching it when he caught sight of me. Surprise crossed his face, and he tried to stand, but I was too quick for him. I moved directly in front of him, and punched him on the cheek with such force it caused him to fall onto the couch. Before he was able to get his bearings and attempt to come back at me, I continued punching him until he was unconscious.

Once I was sure he was out cold, I kept moving through the house. I was almost at my destination when another guard stepped into the hallway in front of me. Surprised, he whipped his gun out fast and aimed it at me. He pulled the trigger, but I ducked just in time to avoid the bullet. As I ducked, I aimed my gun at his foot and shot him there.

“Fuck!” he roared as he collapsed in pain, blood going everywhere. Looking up at me, he demanded, “Who are you?”

I crouched next to him, grabbed his gun from him, and answered, “All your bad dreams rolled into one.” And then I punched him. He didn’t go down without a fight, though, and attempted to roll away from me.

Watching him, I said, “It’s kinda hard to walk when you’ve been shot in the foot. You could probably limp but you wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. And you’d be pissing me off, and then you wouldn’t be seeing your son anytime soon if I lost my patience, and decided to shoot you rather than simply knock you unconscious and let you live.” I shrugged. “Your choice.”

“Leave my family out of this,” he snarled.

“Can’t do that, seems as though they’re all I’ve got to barter with. And damn, man, that wife of yours? She’s a cracker. You wouldn’t want to leave her behind.” I needed to push him hard so he made the right choice here.

His eyes narrowed on me, assessing, deciding. “You fucking would, too, wouldn’t you?”

I could only hazard a guess at what he meant, but it didn’t really matter what he meant. All that mattered was the fear I heard in his voice, and that fear was the key to me reaching my goal today. “I would,” I agreed.

“What do you want?”

“Ah, now that’s a more useful topic of conversation,” I said as I advanced towards him. Without hesitation, I pulled my fist back and knocked him out cold in three punches.

I straightened and checked the time on my watch. Still on track.