Crew Vega runs a camp straight west of DC. It sits on almost three-hundred acres. I used to think it was in the middle of nowhere, but that was when I lived in Alexandria and could walk out of my condo to hit restaurants and bars—you know, civilization. I moved to the country for Red and Abbott but, I admit, I do love the privacy of BFE. I grew up here and it felt weird to be back after traveling the world.
But after tonight?
I’ve never needed privacy more. I took back roads out of the District and it’s taken an age to get back to nowhere land where cows outnumber humans and horse farms are the norm. After what went down tonight, there’s no way we can go back home right now.
Since my cell is in bits littering the construction-filled streets of the District, I’ve been on Bella’s—coordinating and planning. Before I had a chance to return Vega’s call from the coat room, he’d already sent his man Grady Cain to my house. He packed up Red, Abbott, and the new cat who hates me. Vega assured me they’re safe at his house where he and his family live on his wife’s vineyard. Abbott is back to sleep but Red is reported to be more irritable than ever about the turn of events.
I don’t have the luxury of worrying about him right now.
“How’re you doing, baby?”
After she got rid of whoever was after us, Bella climbed off my lap and reclined her seat. I could see she was hurting. Her body isn’t ready for what she just put it through.
“Lovely, though I could really use a bottle of whiskey to numb everything from my neck down.” Her words seep through a groan and she hasn’t taken her hand off her midsection.
“I can make that happen.”
She winces as I pull into Crew’s camp, which might be the most secure piece of property in all of Virginia outside of the beltway. I can’t lie, this will be awkward returning the Porsche even though Jarvis is the least of my problems right now. The fine piece of machinery was already creaking from what we put it through, but the gravel road makes it feel more like a tractor. The narrow drive through the trees finally clears and an old farmhouse appears, the one Crew uses as his headquarters for recruiting and training mercenaries. The house and drive are lit up and standing off to the side are Crew and Grady.
Jarvis stands front and center with Bella’s new personal shopper and BFF, Gracie, glued to his side. She’s gripping his forearm and her other hand is wrapped around his bicep. If I didn’t know better, and she wasn’t a slip of a woman, I’d think she might have some super power, holding back the Hulk in the latest installment of The Avengers.
I come to a stop in front of Jarvis—I’m sure it’s salt in the wound since I can hear him groan through the shot-out window. I kill the engine—hoping it will eventually start again—and climb out, ignoring the death glare the owner is surely sending my way as I walk around what was a pristine sports car a little over an hour ago. Bella’s door complains and it takes a little muscle to pry it open, metal on metal, like nails on a chalkboard. Bella moves slow and I’m worried she did damage to her not-yet-healed wounds.
“I’m fine,” she argues but doesn’t push me away when I help her stand and reach in the car to collect her jeweled purse, phone, wig, and the gun Crew supplied me with earlier when none of this was on our radar.
I help her carefully walk barefoot across the gravel and we come to a stop in front of Jarvis. I put my arm around Bella and hold her to me, hopefully to remind him he’s standing here today because of her, so a fucked-up luxury car should be no big deal. Especially with the money he makes off the CIA and other countries under the table.
No one has said a word and Jarvis doesn’t take his eyes off the pile of rubble parked behind us. I reach into my pocket and his eyes snap to me in a toxic stare when I toss him the fob.
He stays silent. I decide to break the ice. “No sex was had in