Threat Level:Red (The Disavowed Book 3)

By: David Leadbeater

The Moose never failed.


Radford watched the bullet smash into the knee-high coffee table before him. It had been a warning shot, but with Amanda standing right here, fuck that. He leapt over the back of the couch, tackling the first man around the shoulders and bearing him hard to the ground. He yelled at Amanda to stay low and punched his adversary in the throat as he grappled for the heavy weapon, trapped between their bodies. A shot went off, the bullet flying over both their heads and into the kitchen cabinets.

Can the neighbors hear the racket?

Hard to say. Radford’s plot in the Hills was pretty secluded, purposely so. They hadn’t wanted any sightseers bothering them. Now, he’d buy even the paparazzi a Porsche if one showed up outside.

Radford rolled to one side. The weapon shifted. A second man kicked out. Radford rolled further, ending up on his back. He snatched the second man’s weapon away, stood up, and swiveled the barrel.

Five guns were trained on him.

Then, as he glanced over to check on Amanda, two of the guns also turned in her direction. The threat was clear. The odds hopeless.

Radford thought about the next step. If you can’t fight your way out, finesse it. If you can’t finesse it, get help.

On his own he might stand a chance. With Amanda the likelihood of a successful finesse dropped dramatically. To zero, he thought. Where the hell was his cellphone?

Too far to reach. Their only hope was Amanda’s. He knew she’d been using it a moment before the attack, just hoped she’d had the presence of mind to stash it close by. All of this ran through his mind in just a few seconds.

“Drop the weapon.” An attacker’s growl stole through the heavy silence.

Radford let the weapon fall to the floor.

“What happens next?” he asked, making a point of returning slowly to Amanda’s side, hands up.

“Now?” The talkative guard shrugged. “We wait.”

“For what? We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“We know you, Dan Radford. We know your two friends. Their addresses. We know your wife. Your . . . how do you say? Arrangement. We know Agent Collins. And the FBI. We know them too. Very soon, after the city explodes, they will know us.”

“So who the hell are you guys?”

“We work for Blanka Davic. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He will be along shortly to talk to you. And your wife.”


Despite it being the only one available, Silk approved of the Beverly Hilton’s junior suite. It sure was a cut above the ones he’d been living out of whilst Julian Seager tracked him down. After that episode ended, Silk had decided to treat himself with a few weeks R&R at a nice four-star hotel.

He plonked himself down on the bed with a deep sigh. If only it were that simple. Jenny had left him. Taken the coast road to ‘Frisco, Highway 1 in fact, and hadn’t been in touch since. He’d stayed faithful to her for about three days. Then Susie Brewster, the cop who had saved his life and helped him track down the serial killer Seager, had made certain advances that he couldn’t rebut anymore.


She was on her way over. Shift done. “Time for some Silk,” she’d said. What could he say? I’m going to fight for my wife? The feelings that the last few weeks had stirred within him—the undying memories of Tanya Jazz and the girl with no name; the two women who had both changed, saved and shaped the early years of his time on the streets as a child thief—had finally dulled to a deep, treasured glow that inhabited the quieter corridors of his mind. He loved the fact that they resided there, forever, his most precious, cherished memories preserved for all time. At least there no one could hurt them. Not anymore.

But Silk had changed.

In spite of his recent victory over his past, Silk still believed he’d lost something irrevocable in the present. Trent and Radford, the other two members of the Razor’s Edge, had fought Davic almost on their own and they could have died. Silk knew he was being illogical when berating himself for not being with them—he couldn’t be in two places at once—but he still found it hard to shake the feeling that he’d somehow betrayed them—his team.

Now he struggled to find a way to apologize. To make it all up to them. Something will come up, he thought. It always does.

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