Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Stevenson, Mrs. Morici. My friends call me Steve.”
“Do you mind if we make a detour, Steve?”
He nods at the guard next to him who takes out his phone and types out a message.
Wait. “Are you checking with my husband?” Because if they can reach him, why can’t I?
“Just informing the men accompanying us in different cars, ma’am.”
The man in the passenger seat nods at Steve.
I look between them. “Do you always communicate with body language?”
Neither answer.
“Where would you like to go, Mrs. Morici?”
“To the cemetery.”
Surprise lights up Steve’s features as he watches me in the rearview mirror, but he quickly wipes any trace of emotion from his face.
“And I’d like to buy flowers on the way.”
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Dante
* * *
People scream and dive for cover.
The chair in which Naomi Foster’s corpse sits topples backward from the force of the blow that tore through her head.
Reino’s voice cuts through my earpiece. “Sniper!”
I grab Naomi’s bag and the lighter that fell on the table. The packet of cigarettes is still in her hand.
While people run in all directions, I walk with brisk strides to the northern exit. “Get fucking eyes on that sniper.”
Reino falls into step behind me. I catch his shadow that stretches over the ground before I scan the rooftops and windows.
“South,” Ulysses says. “Your six o’clock. He’s one of ours.”
The fuck?
I clench my fingers around the strap of the bag. “Cut his comms.”
Hysteria reigns. The park security isn’t equipped for the crisis. They try to calm the scrambling visitors but fail. I walk quietly through the stampede at the gates.
“He’s out,” Ulysses says. “I cut his link.”
I grind my teeth together. “Bring him to me. We’ll meet at the warehouse.”
The men stationed inside the park will make their own way out.
The van that would’ve transported Naomi Foster pulls away from the curb with screeching tires and disappears around the bend.
“Cameras?” I ask as my driver pulls up.
“We’re wiping them now,” Ulysses says.
I open the door and get into the front. “Fly our drones away from there.”
“Already done.”
“I want a status update when our men have cleared out.”
“Noted.”
Reino appears on the sidewalk. The moment he gets into the back, the driver takes off.
“Clear the comms,” I say. “The feds will be all over the scene in minutes. Use only a burner phone from now on.”
“Going dark,” Ulysses announces.
When the comms go dead, I yank out the earpiece.
“Damage control?” Reino asks.
“I’ll speak to my contact at the feds. If anyone asks, she came to me for help but was taken out before she had a chance to talk. I bailed because I didn’t want to get caught up in the mess.”
“I’ll pass on the message.”
I throw the bag on the back seat next to him. “Fuck.”
We don’t speak on the way to the warehouse. I’m too volatile.
We make it to the abandoned building in record time. I grab the bag from the back and chuck the lighter inside. My only lead to the fuckers who kidnapped Tatiana is dead. All I have to go on now is Naomi’s bag.
One of my men opens the warehouse door when Reino and I approach.
I throw the bag at him. “We need to go through that with a fine-tooth comb.”
Something may point us in the right direction, although the chances of finding anything are slim.
“Fuck.” I slam a fist against the wall, barely registering the pain that shoots up my knuckles. “What the fuck happened out there?”
Reino watches me from under his eyebrows. “Our men are bringing him in. They were right behind us.”
I pace the floor, violence building inside me with every step I take.
Not a minute later, the door opens, letting sunlight into the gloomy interior.
Two men drag Kent inside and force him onto his knees in front of me. When they remove his denim jacket, exposing his upper body for obvious reasons, he doesn’t resist or fight. He only fixes cool blue eyes on me.
I stare down at him, fighting the urge to crack his skull open before he gets a word out.
More men file into the warehouse. Someone closes the door. The inside is shrouded in shadows once more, only the yellow glow of a battery-operated lamp casting a circle of dust-ridden light around him.
My voice is icy. Controlled. “You killed Naomi Foster.”
He holds my gaze without wavering. “Whatever her name was.”
Reino steps behind him, ready to knife him down if I give the command, but that’s not a pleasure I’m going to give someone else.
“I didn’t give that order,” I snarl. “I also didn’t order you to be at the site.”
“You didn’t think I was going to let you walk into that trap and do nothing? You didn’t tell me what was going down.” His smile is wry. “You obviously don’t trust me, but I understand.”
“Is that right?” My voice is low and menacing. “I don’t think you do.”