Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Isaak Skriabin was a legend. If you worked in Black Ops, in Special Ops, you knew him and what he’d done and what he was still capable of. The fact that he was here, close enough to snuff out my life if he wanted, was terrifying.
“Mr. Skriabin,” I greeted him as respectfully as possible. “How are you, sir?”
He grunted. “Isaak is good,” he told me, as if I’d ever greet a man like him so casually.
“Yessir,” I rasped, finding it hard to get my voice to work.
After a moment of looking at me, he tsked. “Listen. I owe Harris, yes? Harris owes Chris, and now we are all good. Me, here, is not for you to take on as debt. It is paid. Yes?”
“Yessir.”
“We will not speak of this again.”
No, we would not.
As far as I knew, Isaak Skriabin, ex-double agent, ex-CIA, was the scariest contract killer working. He was the guy everyone else made sure had not taken a contract before they said yes or no. There were younger guys, but not tougher or meaner or deadlier. I had once seen a portion of his service record, and it was mind-blowing. His body count was inhuman. I could have gone my whole life without ever meeting the man, and that would have been just fine.
On top of that, Chris had called in a favor with Darius Hawthorne—aka Conrad Harris, aka Terrence Moss and however many other aliases the man had—who currently ran a shadow organization called The Vault, and whose resources were not something I could even comprehend. Because yes, there were billions of dollars involved, but there were richer men, richer entities. What made Darius Hawthorne so powerful wasn’t money, it was his contacts and network. Everyone and anyone worked for him. He had connections everywhere on the globe, and because my friend Chris Mancuso had called in a marker, Darius had reached out to Isaak, and now my boyfriend, his family, and our pets were all going to be safe. It was crazy.
“So I should drive to Coos Bay and do what?” I asked Jing.
“Wait for a call on this,” Jing said, tapping the satellite phone in my hand, before leaning into the car and taking another zippered pouch from Mr. Skriabin, which she passed to me. I checked inside and found a Walther PPK and several magazines of ammunition. “This is all I had on me, unless you want my Beretta.”
“I have my Sig. I don’t need another piece.”
Now she was squinting at me. “You have lots of ammo for that Sig on you?”
I didn’t, actually, not with me. I had a lot at home and always carried quite a bit with me when I was on a mission, but she was right; all I had now was what was in the gun. If lots of people came to the cabin in the woods after my family, I would need more than what I had. My resigned exhale was long.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she said snidely. “Now, is the Walther fine, or do you want my Beretta?”
“Do not take,” Mr. Skriabin chimed in. “Is her favorite.”
“The Walther is great,” I assured Jing.
“I don’t think you’re going to need it, as no one who’s really gifted gets out of bed for a contract less than a million, but just in case someone gets past Isaak––”
Loud scoff from the interior of the car.
“––you need to be armed,” she stated flatly.
She wasn’t wrong.
“You remember Arden from our vacation in Bangkok, right?”
It had not been a vacation. Everyone, including me, had nearly died at one point or another during that rescue mission in Thailand. “I remember her, yeah.”
“She’ll be in Chicago next month and will come get my gun. You can also just run it over to Torus when you get home and give it to Shaw James, who runs the office there.”
“Whatever you prefer.”
She nodded. “Wait for Arden. Shaw has sticky fingers.”
I didn’t know the man, but I doubted that was true. I could tell from her slow grin and quick waggle of brows that she was teasing me. “Will do. And thank you for the piece.”
“Okay, then,” she said, not about to get any more friendly with me. Jing was very professional. Getting back in the car with a yawn, she said, “Do svidaniya,” as the window rolled up. Clearly, both she and Mr. Skriabin were done conversing with me.
The car backed up and was gone in moments.
When I turned to Kurt, he seemed surprised.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I—if you knew who that was, much like me, you’d be terrified.”
“That man scares you?”
“Yeah, he—” I stopped because no good could come from telling Kurt that Isaak Skriabin was as close to meeting the devil as I hoped I would ever come. “Never mind. Let’s change cars and get out of here.”