Grizzly focused all his attention on the doorway, getting himself together. Luke could feel the energy developing in Grizzly’s massive frame. Six feet two inches of federal muscle was about to collide with the door of room 9B of the Harbor Light Hotel. Grizzly held up his left hand and spread his fingers.
Five.
Luke looked at the luminous dial of his watch. Walt and Rico were in position. If they weren’t, Rico would have clicked twice on the shortwave radio.
Four.
Grizzly’s face was bright red, the way it always got before a kick-in. His fingers were rock steady. He folded another one.
Three.
Luke took in a deep belly-breath through his nose and blew it out slowly through his open lips.
Two.
What if it isn’t him?
Screw that. It’s him.
One.
Grizzly gave Luke a final look. Then he tensed and exploded off the wall—the whole frame of the door burst inward. Before it hit the floor, Luke was racing in—a woman was screaming—and Luke heard his own voice, deep but hoarse, saying “Federal officers—freeze—federal officers!”
“Relentless and gripping … Stroud is back in his territory of true-life heroes and villains.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Gets into the soul of the U.S. Marshals Service.”
—Sun-Sentinel, Fort Lauderdale
“The fact that it’s all true is enough to bring on nightmares.”
—The Fresno Bee