a former merc.
His office structure, with even greater security, makes it a negative. That office building would put the Pentagon to shame.
Every speck of dirt I can find on this guy says he’s clean, but I’m good at reading between the lines. And what’s between the lines is as black as the inside of a coal mine.
So my only chance is a public takedown.
That’s why I’m here, dressed up in a monkey suit. It could be worse. At least it’s not a tux. But the black slacks, button-up, and tie are not my usual work gear, though they’re the same color.
I school my face into passive enjoyment, like most of the sheeple around me, and find my place on the second floor, overlooking the party below. There’s no way I can blend into that crowd. The money virtually drips off them as they prance around.
My cover is that I’m security. It’s a good cover, and I look the part easily with my size and threatening aura.
From my perch, I disappear into the shadows and scan the people below. Some faces I know, not because I know the theater world in the least but because they’re on television, the news, movie screens.
But most of them I don’t know at all. It makes it easy to search for the face I have memorized. Nathan Stone.
I see him come in, right at home in the sea of wealthy scene-makers.
My mask falls slightly, my lip curling as I grind my teeth. I watch him for a moment, let him come closer into the trap I’ve set. He walks the room, my eyes following his every move with laser focus.
But just before I go to make my move, a flash of black catches my eye. It’s not an attention-grabbing color in the least, but something draws me and I let my eyes tick to chase it in the crowd. And then I see . . .
Carly? What the fuck is she doing here?
In the US? At this party?
I left her in Italy, planning to never see her again, to walk away from whatever storm she stirred up inside me, unwilling to betray Anna with the things Carly teases from me.
But now she’s here, like a demon in the night, telling me I can’t get away that easily.
I shake my head, not able to look too deeply into that right now. I need to focus. One thing at a time.
Nathan Stone.
Anna.
Our baby.
Revenge.
I reacquire my target and find that he’s strayed a little. I adjust, checking Nathan’s progress around the room, judging his likely trajectory through the crowd, and take a quick glance around me on the second floor to ensure I’m out of sight.
The stage is set perfectly.
I pull the Glock 43 I’ve purchased for just this mission from my inner jacket pocket, the six-inch-long pistol the smallest I could trust with this job. I wish I had something with a little more pop, but this is real life and I need practical.
On the other hand, I do have a laser sight, not perfect on a twenty-yard shot, but good enough that I can put a hollow point through his brain case. And a silencer that will hopefully ensure I can get out clean before anyone realizes where the shot came from.
I watch carefully, waiting for Nathan to freeze, knowing that I’ll have a precious moment where he stands still to small-talk with each group he passes.
He approaches a small group of two men and a slender woman, his steps slowing, but in the small bit of viewing space I have that isn’t Nathan, I see that black flash again.
Whispering a curse, I look up and see Carly.
I’m shocked to see she’s pressed up against the wall, a slick-looking guy holding her there. I can see the paleness of her face, the fear and anger mixing, but she’s frozen. He leans forward to kiss her and an ugly thought races through my mind . . . See?
She’s already forgotten about you.
But I see her struggling to get away, biting her lip to keep from crying out as she fights uselessly against him. She might be able to do backflip spin kicks, but at half an inch, her skills mean jack and shit.
The guy’s grin is pure malice when he grabs her by the arm, dragging her down the hallway as she stumbles and tries to yank free.
What the fuck?
Time freezes.
The gun in my hand, aimed at the man who killed Anna. My body, already trying to