CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Riley stared into the angry face that loomed just inches from her own. She immediately recognized those hollow eyes and that shaggy beard.
Bruno Young.
She had seen his mug shot just a few minutes ago, and now he had her pinned against the wall.
He pressed the point of an ice pick against her throat.
For a few moments, all movement seemed to freeze.
Riley wanted to shout to her companions in the floors below, but she barely dared to breathe. She knew that with a single hard punch, Young could drive the ice pick’s sharp, long shaft all the way through her windpipe and into the vertebrae of her neck.
She’d probably be dead before she hit the floor.
The man snarled, “Answer my question, FBI lady! What do you want from me?”
“I just want to ask you some questions,” Rile
