Chapter 2 - Eyes in the Rearview
The impact was devastating and swift. David slammed into the man in the beige suit, sending him crashing backward into a towering metal luggage cart loaded with crisp white hotel towels and expensive suitcases. The man gasped, the breath expelled violently from his lungs as he collapsed onto the sun-baked stone pavement. The heavy black briefcase slipped from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud, its brass combination locks popping open upon impact. Inside, scattered across the tiles, were classified corporate documents and a chillingly clear printed photograph of David’s children walking home from school just two days prior. Standing over him, his face slick with sweat and twisted into a mask of pure rage, David dropped to one knee, grabbed the man by the collar of his white shirt, and hauled him inches from the floor. The man’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror as he stared up into David’s piercing, relentless gaze. With a voice trembling from adrenaline and suppressed violence, David delivered a question that cut through the tropical breeze like a razor blade. Before the man could stammer out a single syllable of defense, a sharp, metallic click echoed from the nearby service alley, signaling that they were no longer alone.
