3:13 a.m.
THE CELL phone on Cooper’s nightstand vibrated. Lupe gave a short, muffled bark—more of a woof—to alert his master. But his master was already on full alert. “Shhh,” he whispered. The pup immediately fell silent.
Cooper reached down and grabbed the shotgun he kept clipped to the underside of his bed. Cooper knew the easiest way to disorient a target in his home at night was to call him. While your target fumbles for the phone in the dark, you take your shot; it’s over before he’s even fully awake. Cooper refused to make that mistake.
Only with the Winchester SXP Defender pump-action shotgun in his hand did Cooper answer his cell.
“Honey,” he said calmly, “I told you never to call me at work.”
The person on the other end of the line hesitated. Cooper heard a confused muttering before the caller finally snarled: “Walk away. That’s what Chef Boyardee should’ve done.”
Cooper said, “Red—is this you?”
Click.