Chapter Twelve #2
Calista’s gaze stayed studiously locked on Pete when she answered, “Next to nothing. He’s notoriously cautious.
Think Putin on steroids. From the limited information Atlanta could find, his security team is generational.
The post is passed down from father to son.
There are some rumors that say Sergei has a hand in picking who his guards will marry and reproduce with, ensuring the next generation to serve him is strong and loyal.
Tom has been tight lipped about Sergei, so either he doesn’t know anything more than what Atlanta’s found or he doesn’t want me to know. ”
I thought back to our earlier conversation, the one that sparked Pete to call in the rest of the team, then I thought about Calista’s relief when she learned they were on their way. It wasn’t surprising she didn’t trust Tom, but was there more she wasn’t telling us?
Of course there was. The woman was like a vault. Finding the right combination to get her to open up changed from conversation to conversation.
“You said you were worried about Tom not taking care of the women,” I reminded her. “Do you think he could be protecting Sergei?”
Her eyes slowly journeyed back to me. When they landed, she looked less than pleased I’d gone down the Sergei line of questioning. Which was a clear indication I’d hit a nerve.
Now the question was, would she outright lie?
“I told you, I don’t know what Tom’s planning.
I do know something feels off. And if Tom thinks he can bait a bigger fish, he will.
That means he’ll scrap the mission, call off his team, and follow a new lead.
I don’t disagree Sergei needs to be taken out of the game.
I do disagree that should be done at the expense of the women. ”
“If Tom calls off the mission, our team will be in place,” Pete reminded her.
Calista lifted her mug to her lips and drank. What she didn’t do was acknowledge Pete.
I don’t know if I have anything left. I’m broken.
Her words from last night hit me square in the chest.
Next came a one-two punch in the gut.
If I stop, what happens to them?
I’m exhausted.
I had yet to recover when she said, “Within the next forty-eight hours, I’ll get a call with a time and location to meet Amir. This is his idea of an interview. What it’ll really be is him showing off his wealth. Which we know means power. The last two times I followed him—”
“You followed him?”
She continued like I hadn’t spoken. “He took Maxwell Lancaster to an exclusive invitation-only club at the Rixos on Saadiyat Island.”
“Doesn’t the crown prince own a private residence at the hotel?” Fallon inquired.
“Correct. A show of wealth, power, and connection. Amir took Samuel Allard to the Michelin-starred Al Muntaha inside the Burj. I didn’t make it all the way up to the twenty-seventh floor, and I’ve never eaten there, but I know you’re not leaving there without spending three thousand dirham before wine and champagne.
Then they spent the rest of the evening at the Skyview Bar.
Another show of wealth, but Samuel isn’t of the same buying power as Maxwell, so he’s got in-your-face money but not show-off money. ”
“Alcohol is illegal unless, of course, you can afford to drink it,” Fallon mumbled.
“Calli!” I barked. “You followed him?”
“Geez, hotshot, what do you think I’ve been doing here? Sitting on my thumbs playing cellphone games in my room all day? I also followed Ahmad and Amir.”
“Just pointing out it’d be hard to play on your cellphone if your thumbs were up your ass.”
I growled at Fallon’s stupidity.
Calista shook her head and commented, “Don’t be a smart-ass. You knew what I meant.”
“Actually, I didn’t. I’ve never had a thumb up my—”
“My foot’s gonna be up your ass if you don’t butt out,” I grunted.
Fallon lifted his hands in surrender.
Calli looked like she wanted to kick me in the nuts. The threat of physical violence looming in her blue orbs shouldn’t have been so appealing, but it couldn’t be denied the woman was gorgeous when she was riled.
“Yes, Mason, I’ve been following Amir,” she said dryly.
Suddenly, my teammate Jack Donovan’s face flashed in my mind. A memory of us in a warehouse in Honduras, him looking both frustrated and constipated.
Good God, was I turning into Jack?
The guy had bitched and complained about how Catarina had no sense of self-preservation. If memory served, he was so pissed, he’d told her he was going to redden her ass for being in Honduras unprotected. At the time, I’d laughed.
I owed him an apology for finding his misery a source of entertainment.
Now I was wondering if this was some sort of karma.
“Are we in another Mase-Calista staring contest or are we gonna eat in the next century?” Fallon asked.
She was not mine, I reminded myself.
Her choices were hers.
It was not my place to say a damn thing.
I shook my head and went back to cooking.
“So you’re waiting for your call?” Pete prompted.
“Yeah. Amir will take me out like he did the others. After our meeting, he’ll either give me an official invite to the auction or deny my entry.”
“What’s the backup plan if you don’t get an invite?” Fallon inquired.
“That would be a question for Tom. I told you, my only part in this is to get the invite, get the location of the auction, and report to Tom. He’ll have a Ground Branch team move, or one of his other shooters move into place to take out his target.”
Yeah, I really needed the full story on how she’d become one of Tom’s ‘shooters.’
But that was a question for later.
Before I could ask about Tom’s plan for the women, Pete did. “Who’s supposed to be handling the women?”
“He told me he has an NGO coming in for the girls. Former Special Forces. The organization’s called Lighthouse.”
“Mason will be your shadow when you meet with Amir,” Pete informed Calista.
“He might not let me—”
“That’s a deal-breaker,” I interrupted her. “Your personal protection doesn’t leave your side. If you show weakness, he’ll pounce and won’t take you seriously. If you demand his respect on this issue, he’ll give it.”
“That was almost as condescending as last night’s ‘stay sharps,’” she noted.
I wanted to remind her what wasn’t condescending about last night, but I’d never break her trust, so I settled on finishing the French toast.
“Fallon will stay close as well, and I’ll play driver,” Pete finished, as if our exchange didn’t happen.
“Once you have the location for Tom, your part’s done,” Fallon circled back. “Where does that leave you?”
“Leave me?”
“Where are you going next?”
Fuck.
I hadn’t thought of that. In a few days, this would be over, and Calista would be gone.
Gone from my life.
“I don’t know. Until Tom clears my name, it won’t be the US.”
Fuck. Would she quit? Would she go someplace quiet and find her peace? Would she leave and go write the mysteries she never got to? Would she leave all of this behind—leave me behind?
My chest felt like it was going to cave in. A pressure so heavy it felt like my heart was struggling to beat.
Fuck.
How the hell had this woman gotten under my skin . . . and how did I work her out?