CHAPTER 132 Poor Judgement

*Vic Kincaid*

I was in Bismarck, seated on a tattered sofa in a warehouse, seething with rage. Not only was I recovering from injuries, a number of the mercenaries I employed have wound up dead.

After switching with an actor who resembled me, I followed him to the airport, hoping to catch whoever I suspected was following me, but to my utter shock, the person who I followed from the restroom was