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)
She was so terrified of losing me, of not having enough backup, of not being enough herself, that she’d called on the scariest person she knew to assist her. She’d called an assassin. To me, that didn’t seem logical. To her, calling the person she had the most faith in, even though, again, he was a killer, seemed like the reasonable play.
“She said I was lovely,” Garland said to Dante and me, nudging me with his elbow. Since when were we friends?
Dante looked at me. “She would do anything to protect you. That’s some impressive loyalty there.”
It certainly was. She was strong enough to say when she needed help because she would not allow her pride to get in the way of being my shield, my guardian.
“He needs me to take care of him,” she lamented, burrowing into Isaak’s arms, “but what if I miss something or make a mistake? I can’t do this by myself.”
“I’m feeling very much like chopped liver over here,” Dante grumbled.
“I’m still feeling lovely,” Garland told him.
“He used to be able to take care of himself,” Isaak said, hugging her. “But he is older now, slower, and he has not been in the field for some time. Skills atrophy when they go unused.”
“He’s talkin’ about you,” Dante made sure I knew.
“And you.”
“Oh no,” he assured me. “This isn’t my sandbox anymore. I now direct people, if and when I go out into the field. This whole bullets-whizzing-by-my-head business has not happened in years.”
It hadn’t happened to me either. If I thought about it, the only people who were actively returning fire these days were Garland and Isaak. One to save people, the other to kill them.
“I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something,” she told Isaak, weeping now, using the handkerchief he passed her to blot at her eyes. She was overwrought, the day before clearly having scared her more than I realized. And not for herself, never for herself, but for me. She was terrified of not being enough, so she made certain my safety would not be compromised.
“No, it was nothing.”
“Help me,” she pleaded. “I need him to live through this.”
“And you too,” he soothed her. “You will live as well and get home to Paris, to your apartment, and drink wine and sit on your balcony and look at the Place Vendôme while you pet your dogs.”
I had no idea they were close enough friends that he’d been to her house and met her dogs. I probably should have been paying better attention to a lot of things.
She nodded quickly, then pressed her face into his chest. He took that moment to shoot me another scathing look.
“Fuck,” I groaned, then looked around for Chris. “Where the hell is Mancuso?”
“He left for Caracas,” Dante told me, grinning. “It couldn’t be helped; it was a standing engagement. He said he’d check in with us in three days, see where we were with this.”
But I didn’t need Chris since Isaak was here, even though I was certain that in Jing’s mind, one didn’t cancel out the other. She called Isaak for more help. God knew who she’d call now that Chris was out of the mix. I needed to talk with her before she made any more arrangements, but I’d have to wait until she was done telling Isaak about her favorite bakery near Notre Dame and how she made a TikTok account for her dogs.
An hour later, I got a call from Darius, who wanted to see me, so he used a secure line to Skype.
“Holy crap.” From his expression, and tone, Darius was horrified over my appearance. “You didn’t look like that when you saw the ambassador, did you?” And, of course, in contrast to me, he looked amazing in a black shirt and jodhpurs.
“He did,” Dante affirmed, smirking, leaning into the frame. “What’s with the outfit? Are you playing polo or something?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” he snapped at Dante. “I—Jesus, that’s Isaak, isn’t it?”
“Harris,” Isaak greeted him, using Darius’s old name, the one he’d used in his Intelligence days, and later, as a contractor. “You are looking well.”
“And you,” Darius told him, “though how you got into the country without sirens going off is beyond me.”
“You have your ways, I have mine.”
“Okay,” Darius said, eyes back on me. “That’s not great. Isaak?”
“Oh, buddy, that was so not my call.”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now but try and keep him from killing, like, everyone who crosses his path.”
I shrugged, and Dante shook his head. Like Isaak ever listened to anyone.
“So after having a brief conversation with George Hunt, I have to ask, who do you think is trying to kill you, and why?”
“Everyone, if the last twenty-four hours are any indication.”
“No. This is specific. So to find out where you are, you have to look at where you’ve been.”