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“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Prentice snapped. “So you might as well shoot me now.”

“I’d like that,” David said. “Been a while since I shot a man.”

Prentice frowned at him as recognition slowly dawned in his eyes. “Fuck, you’re David Knight.”

“You’re right,” David said to Harvard. “His language skills need work.”

“You really should make the effort,” Harvard said as they reached the SUV. “You’ll attract a higher class of criminal employer if you do.”

Harvard unlocked the car with his fob and swung the back door open for Prentice. They’d been expecting him to make a break for it at this point, and sadly, he didn’t disappoint.

Pushing back against the car, he swung at Harvard—making the mistake of assuming the bigger man meant the bigger threat.

David slammed a hand over the man’s mouth to muffle any shouting as he angled the gun and shot Prentice in the leg. Shoving him head-first into the car, David leaned in over him and secured his hands and feet with zip ties. Leaving him face-down and bleeding on the leather of the back seat, secured with seat belts that were threaded through his arms and legs to keep him firmly in place, David let himself into the front of the vehicle.

Harvard was already behind the wheel. “You just had to show off, didn’t you?” he said as he put the car in gear and pulled out into the narrow road.

“You’ve never seen me show off,” David drawled.

“I’m fucking bleeding back here,” Prentice shouted from behind them. “I need a hospital, assholes.”

David twisted in his seat and aimed his gun at the man. “From now on, every word you utter earns another bullet. Let’s see how many we can put in you before you bleed out.”

Prentice clenched his jaw tight as his eyes blazed fury.

Satisfied that the mercenary understood him, David settled back in his seat as Harvard negotiated the maze of roads that made up East London.

“We’re in the car,” Joe said over their earpieces. “Heading to the office.”

“David shot Prentice,” Harvard tattled.

“It was the fastest way to handle things. He isn’t dying, and he’s able to talk,” David defended his decision.

“Joe,” Dimitri said. “You owe me ten bucks.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The entrance to the mushroom farm had been bricked up.

Sarah stood in front of the brick wall, staring at it, wishing there was some way to get past it. Some way to knock it down. To get through and out of the damn mine.

“How easy do you think it is to knock down a brick wall?” she asked Ryan, who’d gone back to foraging for mushrooms that weren’t covered in mold.

“If you have the right equipment, I’d say pretty easy.” He looked over at her from where he was crouched beside a mushroom bed. “We don’t have any equipment, let alone the right stuff.”

“Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, run at it?” He was big and strong, so surely it would give.

“Absolutely, if you want me to get another head injury.”

“What if we pick at the mortar around one brick, poke that out, and make the wall weaker? Could you kick it down then?”

“Pick at the mortar with what? Our fingernails?”

“No! I have a nail file.”

“Great. Wake me up in about two years when you’ve loosened the brick.”

“Ryan.” She pointed at the offending wall. “This is the way out.”