Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
There’s the ceiling space I used to get into his apartment, but there’s no way those wide shoulders would have fit, nor do I think a normal person would consider crawling through the ceiling. Then, as I make my way into my bedroom, I find my skimpiest underwear laid out on my bed with a note reading the things I’d do to see you in this. It had to have been the fire escape.
Fuck. It’s so obvious. How did I not see that coming?
Maybe he’s got me off my game. Shit. Maybe. That’s the understatement of the year. I’m not just off my game, I’m fully immersed in his, and there’s not a thing I can do about it, apart from begging for more.
I’m royally fucked, and he knows it.
Milan was right. She always is, and one of these days, I’m going to have to learn to trust her gut instinct the way I trust mine.
Though while she was right that I’m going to get myself in trouble with Raiden, I’m not sure she was right about everything else. She was overly suspicious of him, and I didn’t like that. I looked into him when he first appeared, and there was nothing out of place. But could she have potentially been right about that too?
Hmm.
Unease begins eating at me, and I find myself back in my living room, crashing onto my couch with my laptop, doing the deepest dive of Raiden Kane I’ve ever done. I start with any of his social media accounts and come up blank, and after driving myself insane with it, I finally come to the conclusion that he’s one of those people who don’t like to leave a digital footprint. Apart from on Tinder, of course. He’s all over that one.
Moving on to his professional life, I search IV Global again before looking over every piece of information they offer about their business, and apart from some bullshit about being in the tech industry, it’s not really very clear what their main focus is. Do they sell tech products, or is it something a little more online?
Nothing is clear, and as I move on to Raiden’s employee profile, glancing over the words Senior International Sales Rep, I can’t help but wonder what his purpose being in Barcelona was in the first place. I know he said he had meetings with the men who attended Javier’s party, but what was he trying to sell them?
His explanations all make sense until you start digging a little deeper.
My gaze rests on the photo of Raiden, and the more I look at it, the more something seems off. It’s too polished, and there’s something different around the overall shape of his face. It could have easily been a Photoshop incident. Or it could be something different.
His eyes are angled, set a little further apart than what they really are, and the gold specs within them are completely gone. The man in this photo is Raiden, but at the same time, it’s not. If I put this picture through a facial recognition program, my bet would be that there are enough differences to not make a real match.
Interesting.
The second the thought enters my mind, I start researching him like one of my targets, but unlike any of my targets, there’s not a scrap of information I can find on him. Birth certificate. School history. Childhood. It’s as though he doesn’t actually exist, and there’s only one other person I’ve come across who doesn’t exist on paper . . . and that’s me.
My heart starts to race. Maybe Milan was right to be suspicious.
But why? Why wouldn’t he exist? Even people in witness protection aren’t as hard to uncover as the man next door. But it makes no sense. Why go to that effort to conceal who he really is? Unless he’s just like me.
Maybe he wasn’t in Barcelona to meet with Javier Rodríguez to sign a contract after all. Maybe he was the contract. That job was posted for a while before I finally accepted it. Another agency could have intercepted it in that time, and if that’s true . . .
Fuck. I really am in trouble.
I dive deeper into his company, needing to confirm that Raiden truly isn’t who he says he is. It takes hours of recon, but I can finally say with confidence that, while it exists on paper with a legal trading name, IV Global doesn’t really exist.
No real employees. No products or services. No steady stream of income.
So what the fuck is IV Global, and why the hell do I think it has everything to do with Raiden Kane?
As my search continues, I hear the sound of the shower coming on from next door, and my head snaps up from my laptop, realizing this could be my one shot to truly figure out who the hell he is. Because let’s be honest, the idea that he’s just like me doesn’t sit well. Besides, what are the chances that another assassin moved directly into the apartment beside mine and became the bane of my existence? That shit just doesn’t happen.