Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,10
Alaric to get a move on, would you?”
Closure. I just wanted closure. To find Red, find Emerald, slam the door on that chapter of my past, and move on. I owed Alaric, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days repaying the debt.
Down in the basement of Riverley Hall, I found the door to the weapons’ locker ajar. The room was a terrorist’s wet dream, and if the cops ever got a look inside, we’d probably all be arrested. Fortunately, the entrance was well-hidden.
Black was lurking at the back near a stack of Russian-made RPG launchers. We’d come across a whole bunch of goodies on a trip to Siberia a while back, and some of the stash might have made its way home with us. Not the nuke, though. We’d handed that over to the authorities. Ain’t nobody wants to sleep on top of that shit.
“I’ve packed your electronics.”
My husband waved at a black plastic case that looked more like carry-on luggage than a spy kit. I flipped back the lid and took an inventory. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him—if I needed it, it would be there—but more that he’d spent nearly two decades drilling the importance of checking my own equipment into me. Cameras, burner phones, night-vision goggles, a nifty little device the size of a cigarette lighter that could download the entire contents of a smartphone in less than a minute…
“How many people are you expecting me to bug? We’re trying to retrieve a painting, not discover state secrets.”
“Yes, about that…”
Uh-oh. I knew that tone. I hated that tone.
“I’m just gonna back away slowly.”
“Kyla Devane.”
Shit.
I’d thought it was odd Black hadn’t tried to stop me from going to Kentucky with Alaric. Arranged a meeting or a training exercise or a last-minute assassination, that sort of thing.
“She can’t be allowed to win this election,” he continued. “This government’s got too much left to do to risk having progress derailed by some crank and her self-serving agenda.”
“And by government, you mean James?”
Black just smiled. That didn’t surprise me—he’d invested a considerable amount in James’s campaign, and he wanted to get his money’s worth.
“Businessman first, friend second?”
“Husband first, patriot second. Friendship and business come lower down the list. James needs to finish what he started, which means fixing what the last asshole broke, then winning a second term. America can’t afford another four years of political infighting, which means he needs a clear path to do his job without being blocked by a woman more interested in sound bites and photo ops than global stability and a healthy economy.”
Quite the little speech from a man as economical with his words as politicians were with the truth. But no matter how much I wanted a quick, no-nonsense trip to Kentucky, I couldn’t pretend he was wrong.
“I’ll take a look into what’s going on.”
“Give me a few days to get my current project sorted out, and I’ll lend a hand if you need it.”
Alaric and Black both in Kentucky? Brilliant.
“I’ll keep you updated. Nate’s already started researching Devane and Carnes.” Nate was one of our business partners. “Check your messages.”
Black handed me a suppressed Smith & Wesson .22. “Don’t forget this.”
I took my previous “shit” and raised it to a “fuck.” If Black wanted me to take that weapon, it meant wetwork was on the cards, and I wouldn’t get much sleep until the job was over. So much for a fun road trip.
CHAPTER 5 - ALARIC
“THERE HE IS,” Emmy murmured. “Smile, honey.”
She raised a camera, and Alaric plastered on a cheesy grin and mugged for the lens. It could have been any old tourist photo in small-town Kentucky, but this one just happened to catch Stéphane Hegler as he paused to stub out a cigarette. A moment later, the man darted into a café.
Thankfully, all four members of the crew had made it to Kentucky in one piece. The trip wasn’t so much of a problem in the drama-free tranquility of the Ford Explorer—Beth and Alaric had agreed on a radio station, shared the driving, and stopped twice for snacks on the way. The dream team of Emmy and Dan? Alaric’s vehicle had passed the Range Rover fifty miles out of Richmond, pulled over at the side of the road in front of a state trooper. Two hours after that, following a brief period with no phone signal, he’d picked up a garbled voicemail from Dan. Apparently, she’d hit a guy, his dog was injured, and they