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“And if I don’t cooperate?” No way in hell was he leaving Copper behind. The damn conference was packed with terrorists, gun runners, and white slavers—one of whom practically salivated over her. “I’m not leaving her alone in there.”
“She’s not alone,” Merc told him, then slammed him into the wall. “You get the right to exert authority when she gives it. Until then, you have a little more shut the fuck up and cooperate. She wanted you alive, but you can live with a few broken bones.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on in there?” He could fight. They’d already said they didn’t want to kill him, though they didn’t promise they wouldn’t. If it were just him and Merc, he’d take that risk. But cool and steady continued to keep the gun pointed at him with an almost bored air.
“I know you following her is going to fuck things up for her.” They didn’t try to restrain him, but they weren’t letting him go either. “Cooperate. If you care as much as you’re pretending, do thisforher.”
Fine, he would cooperate for as long as necessary to get free of them. With exaggerated care, he motioned to Merc to lead the way. Sooner or later, they’d have to hide the guns unless they—Merc detoured straight to a service elevator.Fuck.
Gabriel concentrated on measuring his opportunities. Folding his arms, he tapped his foot while they waited for the elevator to open. “You know, if you were less ugly and he spoke more, you two could be twins.”
The one half of Merc’s face which still worked quirked up. “Keep talking, laughing boy.”
Boy? Hardly. “So while you two are ‘escorting’ me from the building, who has her back?”
“To quote you,” icy, tall, and silent commented. “None of your fucking business.” The doors slid open, and they shoved him inside.
So they didn’t bait well, but they were protective. Good to know. Leaning against the wall, he studied them. The bio-hazard tattoo on the back of Merc’s skull was pretty damn distinctive.
“To make it perfectly clear,” he said. “The first opportunity I have, I will find her again. You can bring on the full Marine court press, but I’m not backing off.”
Neither man responded.
“If anything happens to her because of this bullshit. I’ll kill you both.”
Still no response.
Calm under fire and pressure—or they didn’t really count him as a threat. He almost preferred the latter. Few people looked over their shoulder for someone they could bully. Though their guns were hidden, Gabriel didn’t doubt they weren’t pointed right at him. They traveled in silence through the lobby and out the main doors. Vegas was always crowded, even in summer.
America’s sin-filled playground. Bypassing the valet, Merc led them toward the parking garage. His phone rang fifteen steps into the structure, and both men looked at him.
“I’m going for the phone.” When neither stopped him, he pulled it out and checked the number. He didn’t recognize it. Since he was on a burner, he answered it anyway.
“Gabriel Michael Danvers, age thirty-five. Recruited out of college to work for the CIA. Gifted with languages, infiltration, and diplomacy, you spent six years working in the field and another eight as an analyst. You left the Agency after faulty intel resulted in the miss of a terrorist leader in Uzbekistan, but the strike still killed five Marines and three civilian families.” Chrome recited classified materials as though he were reading them. “Four years ago, you issued a warning on Red Wolf, began chasing leads, but every time you got close, the lead went up in smoke.”
Saying nothing, Gabriel continued to follow the two men to the van. Whoever the fuck Chrome was, he was connected.
“Your section chief wanted you to let it go, yet you kept a file going—including one on a mysterious woman seen at two separate events you believed related to Red Wolf.”
His heart slammed against his ribs. Really. Fucking. Connected.
“You were ordered to let it go, but you continued off books, and when you werepushedout of the Agency, you were investigating an op in Russia that resulted in nearly a dozen men dying.”
“Guess you can read yourself in.”
“You’re not there on any assignment from the company, Mr. Danvers. So why are you there?”
Because people died due to faulty intel, and he still didn’t know who set the whole fucking thing up. At a dark blue van, the men stopped, and the first one opened the sliding door. “Men died because I got something wrong, because intel crossed my desk and showed vetted and proved. Because sources we trusted screwed us. I can tell you the fuck up came from a hundred different directions, but those don’t matter. I’m here because I fix what I break.”
“Good to—” His next words were lost in a boom of noise which split the air around them. The sound reverberated through the garage, and he pivoted, facing the casino he’d just left as the men next to him started forward. The wave hit after the sound, and he went from being on his feet to flying backward.
Glass shattered on the surrounding cars and alarms screamed to life. Smoke bellowed from the building, then another boom shook the structure.
Copper!
Chapter 9
Cobalt waited for her at the entrance to the private bar they’d set up for the conference. Dressed in his three-thousand-dollar suit, dark hair falling rakishly over one eye, she had to admit he looked damn good. His expression was open, friendly, and he wore an easy smile. He extended a hand to her as she sauntered up. When her palm glided over his, he drew her close and dipped his head as though planning a kiss. “All good?”