Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Everyone had gone to bed a couple of hours ago, but Soren hadn’t been able to sleep. His mind was whirling with too many thoughts and doubts—his plan had problems and a lot of ways it could go wrong. He didn’t want to see any of these people get hurt.
“What do you want?” Soren snarled softly, praying that no one woke to overhear him. He’d moved through the house with his usual soundless grace. Yeah, the others could tease him, but he was a damn good cat burglar. No one heard or saw him unless he wanted them to.
“I thought we could make a deal,” Sheila purred into the phone. Oh, now she was willing to play nice with him. Not fucking likely. She wasn’t his type, and he would never trust her.
“I thought we made it pretty clear the other day that we weren’t interested in dealing with the CIA or MI6.”
“Yes, but things have changed in the past couple of days. It’s not just you and the assassin. You’ve not only got half of your old team in that house, but Justin Mallory and…who we can only assume is another assassin. Whispers on the wind say that he’s teamed up with Gabriel Prescott.”
Soren barely stifled his laugh. How the fuck did the CIA not know that Justin and Gabriel were married? How did they not know that Gabriel was the Reaper? Wow. Huge hole in their intelligence. They were usually more clued into the underground independent contractors than this.
Or was someone keeping Sheila out of the loop? Someone in the CIA who might be protecting Justin or Gabriel?
Interesting thought, but not anything that was going to help him right now.
“I’m having some old friends over for a barbeque. Thought we’d hit the Red Light District later.”
“You don’t seem to understand, Soren. You’ve changed the game by bringing them in. We were prepared to handle this quietly, but how can that happen now?”
A chill slithered through Soren and coiled in his stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“You brought in more guns, more firepower. We have to match it to win. You know that’s how the CIA works. Are you sure you’ll be able to keep your new boyfriend safe?”
“There is no way I’m going to let you near Alexei again,” Soren snarled. He hadn’t meant to say that. Definitely didn’t want to show that she’d cut him to the bone.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lost one on a job. What was his name? Harry? Charlie told me he was a nice guy who worked a normal marketing job. He happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The wrong place being your flat when a hit had been ordered on your head.” Sheila’s words were fucking insidious, winding their way through the darkest memories in his brain before crawling down to squeeze his heart.
He’d been dating Harry for only a few months while living in London. Nothing too serious, but they’d had some fun. Harry had stopped by his apartment while he was out to surprise him. The hit man had mistaken Harry for him. At least it had been a fast death.
He didn’t want that for Alexei. Or something a hundred times worse.
“We can end this tomorrow quickly and cleanly. No one has to die. Your new boyfriend and all your friends return to their lives safe and sound. We’ll even pay you whatever you were going to sell the hard drive for. It’s a win for everyone.”
It did sound easy and clean.
Justin had already taken care of the money in Kalman’s accounts. He’d spent the day hiding the funds, masking their movement so that it looked like the money was still in the accounts until someone tried to remove it. The CIA would get the client and supplier lists, which was still a coup. They’d keep the money. No one would get hurt.
Especially Alexei. His Angel would be safe.
The only thing was that it would stab all his partners in this matter in the back. They’d come to an agreement on how to handle the hard drive. They had a plan.
But wasn’t it better if they were all safe?
“I need to think about this,” Soren mumbled.
“This is a fleeting deal. I can’t give you a lot of time to think.”
Soren softly snorted. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Do you even have clearance to make this deal?”
“Yes, of course,” she hissed. Her voice sharpened to the tone he knew so well. She paused as if gathering herself. When she spoke again, the gentle touch had returned. “But this is my last chance to end this peacefully. You have until ten a.m. to call me at this number and accept my offer. We will then meet one hour later in front of the Rijksmuseum. You’ll hand me the hard drive in front of plenty of witnesses and walk away. The money will be sent to your old bank account. I’m sure you remember the number. Easy and safe.”