Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
One look and Grace was instantly pulled into the depths of those fiery eyes that showed nobility and decades of battles.
The words Lion spoke rolled off his tongue with gruff authority.
“You fight gracefully, warrior of silence. Though your soul is broken and fragile, your cherished’s heart beats strongly for you. You must adhere to his compassion and wisdom to guide you.”
Grace’s stomach flipped as he watched the two assassin predators of Imuma Aga Kahn cover themselves and leave the same way they came.
Silent and without a trace.
“We can’t trust anyone with this information,” Meridian ordered, “and I mean no one.”
They didn’t have to speak in affirmation. It was a given that they all agreed. Then, the Blacks left him and Mirage to wait for their own transport.
Left them stunned, unsure, and suspicious of the organization they’d sworn their lives to serve. One Grace trusted to send him to do what was right and just in the world.
Was the Ravens organization so secret and hidden from all government agencies because of their backroom dealings with their own country’s enemies?
Grace couldn’t help but seethe, wondering if they’d executed other missions that hadn’t been for the good of their country.
Had they killed other innocents?
Mirage was the first to speak.
“Were we just ordered to kill an American hostage?”
A charged silence hung in the air between them.
Deep down, Grace knew that nothing the master said had been deceitful. What reason would the Lion have to lie to them?
Most of all, Grace was anxious to know…who were the other Ravens created, and where had they taken Zelmir Benton?
Mirage
Mirage stayed silent for most of the flight.
There was a lot to digest, and he still vibrated with energy from the two men they’d battled.
If Meridian hadn’t come, they may have been killed. His and Grace’s skills were formidable but had been no match for the masters.
Mirage turned his gaze from the window and locked eyes with Grace.
They held eye contact for almost thirty minutes before Grace spoke in his own language.
Do you believe them?
“Yes.” Mirage had no doubts.
I do too.
Mirage nodded. He was unsure where they would go from here.
“We have to look further into this, but we don’t know who we can trust or how deep the corruption goes.”
Grace clenched his jaw and signaled their stewardess for a drink.
She poured two fingers of brandy into a snifter and brought it to him, but Grace didn’t reach out to take the glass.
“Not the usual, Amy. Bring him a shot of the Blanton’s Bourbon.”
She smiled, then returned to the bar to prepare what he asked.
“I swear to God, if Spectre knows anything about this, I’m gonna snap his fuckin’ neck.”
Grace grunted in agreement, downed his shot, then motioned for another.
Mirage didn’t worry about Grace’s mind becoming impaired. Their metabolism ran too high to get drunk.
“I think we should lie low for a while. We both have injuries.”
Mirage drank more of his Japanese gin and club soda, his thoughts moving a mile a second.
“I don’t want any more missions until we can gather more intel.”
Mirage watched every flutter of Grace’s long lashes, the tic of his jaw, the pulses at his temples, and the dips of his Adam’s apple, every subtle movement revealing his thoughts.
Grace’s captivating gaze held him while he searched inside of him. There was no doubt or indecision there but a shift toward something else.
They were almost home.
Home was where they’d left their love for each other.
Grace
When they landed, the Blacks’ sleek charcoal and silver helicopter was already on its helipad, their team still unloading their cargo.
Spectre was there waiting for them—which was uncommon—with their management director and acute trauma physician, Dr. Martin.
He and Mirage pulled their hoods low and descended the stairs to the platform.
Before they could make it to the leaders of their team, two members of ballistics hollered from the helicopter’s raised cargo doors.
“Hey! Grace, where the hell is the Delta?”
Fuck off. And fuck that rifle.
“We don’t see it! Come on, man!”
Ignoring them, he and Mirage met the next barricade blocking them from getting to the elevator to their condos.
“Okay, let’s play a little game of I Spy,” Spectre growled.
He didn’t even ask if they were okay first or acknowledge the gashes in his thighs or Mirage’s subtle limp from Omega’s strikes.
“I spy two motherfuckers who outmatched four of the best assassins in the world and stole their goddamn targets. Not only one, but both of them! So tell me. Who the fuckin’ fuck am I talking about?”
Warmth spread up Grace’s cheeks to his forehead.
Neither of them answered. Grace wasn’t inclined to respond at all. Instead, he scowled down at Mirage.
Mirage didn’t turn away from Grace’s glare as he spoke. “Give us the night, Spectre. We’ll debrief tomorrow at thirteen hundred.”
Grace started walking as Mirage fell in step behind him.
“Hold on! No way in hell is the director gonna wait that long for answers,” Spectre yelled at their backs.