Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Good,” Dante replied.
“And what did you learn while we were in there?”
“Well, earlier I had a thought about the guys chasing you yesterday.”
“When?”
“On the boat.”
“Okay. What about them?”
“Did those guys seem like professionals to you?” Dante asked.
“You mean military versus private?”
“I mean, did they strike you as trained at all?”
“No, sir,” Garland chimed in. “Those fellas we killed in the street were definitely not military, and neither were the ones on the river.”
“I agree,” I told Dante. “They all knew their business, and no doubt were killers for a living, but they weren’t pros. That’s probably why we’re still alive.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dante concurred, “which means we’ve got it coming at us from all sides.”
“I don’t follow,” Garland told him.
“That’s because you weren’t with Jared at the morgue where he got the royal runaround. There are high-ranking people in on whatever this is, and then we’ve got this seemingly endless stream of foot soldiers.”
Jing agreed. “One puppeteer with many strings.”
“So it would appear,” Dante said, and turned to look at the scenery we passed.
“Are you going to say any more, or just sit there and be mysterious?”
He gave me a smile, his real one, that few ever saw. “I’m going to be mysterious for a bit until I figure this out.”
There was no use arguing, so I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes as Jing started asking Garland about the winery, and he was more than happy to tell her all about it.
TEN
I was starting to like the safe house, as it was actually safe, but almost changed my mind when we returned to find a guest had arrived, someone I didn’t want there.
“Why are you here?” I asked Isaak Skriabin, another friend from my days with Army Intelligence. Isaak had been Russian Intelligence, but really, CIA, and when he left the agency to be a contract killer, no one was surprised. He’d once taken a vow of silence, stopped talking for two years, just to get his head straight from all he’d done. It was impressive, and I respected his resolve. But the fact remained that he was someone everyone always checked to make sure he didn’t want a contract before they entered the fray. Isaak Skriabin was considered one of the most deadly men in the world. Once, in Belgium, we were on our way to a funeral and stopped for flowers. I’d seen him kill four guys that day with a philodendron that he then took home with him. As far as I knew, the philodendron was still alive.
The look Isaak was giving me at the moment was bored.
“I asked you a question,” I reminded him.
“Why am I here?” he returned in a thick Russian accent, which was unexpected. When we’d crossed paths many times before, he’d sounded like he was from San Diego—where his family had settled after being relocated from Moscow. Agreeing to be a double agent had its perks.
“Yes,” I groused at him. “Why?”
“Jing called.”
“If you’re here, everyone’s going to know,” I railed at him.
My anger would have had a lot more heat if Jing hadn’t taken that moment to rush across the room and into his arms.
“You came!” she squealed as she hugged him.
He wrapped her in his arms, held her close, and said something like solnyshkuh or solnechnyy svet. I’d never gotten a clear translation, but I was fairly certain it meant sunshine in Russian. That’s what the scariest man in the world called my assistant.
“Look at my face, Isaak. It’s all scratched.”
“You look beautiful,” he soothed her.
“We got shot at in the alley and on the street and in the boat and—”
“You’re keeping him safe and alive. I know. Like always.”
“Did you see the boat chase on TV? That was me driving the whole time.”
His gaze flicked to mine, and his silver eyes—that was the only way they could be described—were cold and dead.
“It’s not my fault,” I said defensively, taking an instinctive breath. If I wasn’t scared, just a little, by Isaak Skriabin, my sense of self-preservation would be dead, and that would be disastrous. I knew where I stood with Darius and Dante and others from my past, and that was rock solid. With Isaak…
But it was hard to dredge up that much fear when Jing, whom I adored and trusted, was snuggled up into his chest complaining about Thailand.
Not complaining. That wasn’t right. That made her sound whiny or weak, and she was never that. She was scared, panicked, and I’d missed when she got to that place.
“Hasana is having a baby, so she can’t be here, and Arden is in London setting up this nice Thai family there, and that leaves me, here, alone, to protect Jared.” She was rambling, and it struck me how drained and weary she really was. “And Dante is really nice, and Garland is lovely, but I need more help taking care of him. I can’t do it by myself, and I’m a big enough person to admit that.”