Page 59 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

Forty

Josh

The five of us have gone over Jonas and Sarah’s talking points for the big meeting in Washington tomorrow, twice, and Henn has walked us through the logistics of how our very own “Oksana Belenko” is gonna get The Club’s approximately five hundred fifty-four million bucks transferred out of the bad guys’ twelve bank accounts.

During the whole conversation, every one of us has looked on anxiously, but none more than Kat—which is understandable, considering she’s the one who’s gonna have to waltz into each and every bank and commit large-scale bank fraud.

I wish I could do the job for her, I really do.

In fact, I’ve pushed Henn to come up with some way to transfer the money that doesn’t rely on Kat, but he keeps telling me there’s no other way: the accounts are all in Oksana’s name and the majority of them require in-person transfers for amounts over a million bucks.

Henn and I went around and around, but there’s no alternative. We can’t do it without Kat.

“Don’t worry, Kitty Kat,” Henn says. “I promise. It’s gonna go like clockwork.

I’ve rigged it so the banks will think you’re Oksana, no questions asked, and I’ve also figured out a way to block the bad guys’ access to the Internet on their devices during the whole time we’re in the banks, just in case they try to check their accounts while we’re in the middle of things. ”

Kat bites her lip. “Thanks, Henny.”

“We’ll both be right by your side,” I say, taking her hand in mine. She leans into my shoulder and I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be right there with you, PG,” I whisper. “Every step of the way.”

“Okay, so are you three good?” Jonas asks .

“Yeah, we’re good,” I say. “Are you two good?”

Jonas and Sarah look at each other. “Do you have any questions, baby?” Jonas asks.

Sarah shakes her head. “No, no questions. But I do have a comment: holy crappola—I’m shitting a brick.”

Jonas laughs and kisses her forehead. “No need for brick-shitting. Your report is gonna do all our talking for us.”

Sarah takes a deep breath. “God help me if I wind up on some government watch-list after all this.”

“Don’t worry. They wouldn’t be meeting us in the first place if they didn’t take your report seriously.”

Sarah nods and exhales.

Jonas looks at me. “Josh, can I talk to you for just a second?”

“Sure, bro.”

“Do you mind, baby? I just gotta talk to Josh for a quick second, and then we’ll head out.”

“No worries. I’ll chat with Kitty Kat.”

Jonas and I get up and Sarah and Kat instantly launch into a rapid-fire conversation behind our backs.

“You two want me to join you or... ?” Henn asks us.

Jonas looks at me for my input.

I nod.

“Yeah,” Jonas says. “Thanks, Henn. We could definitely use your brain.”

The three of us move to a sitting area on the other side of the suite, far enough away that the girls won’t overhear us.

Jonas looks nervously across the room. “There’s not a lot of time, so lemme cut to the chase. I want Max and the Ukrainian Travolta dead.” He clenches his jaw.

Henn doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised. “Shouldn’t be hard to persuade the feds to do it for you. The feds are gonna want them dead, too.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, dude. Come on. The Secretary of Defense is one of The Club’s biggest clients?

Not good. They’ll do whatever the fuck you ask them to do to keep that quiet and make sure this deal goes off without a hitch.

Offing a couple Ukrainian separatists is a small price to bury that particular bit of information. ”

“‘Ukrainian separatists’ isn’t really sexy enough,” I say. “I don’t think the average person watching the news understands all that.”

“True,” Henn says. “Good point.”

“I think we need something easily digestible for the masses—something the media will pick up on and run with—something the feds can feed to them that they won’t even question.”

We’re all silent for a beat.

“Terrorists?” I say.

“ Yes ,” Henn says. “The media can spin that ’til the end of fucking time. They’ll eat that shit up.”

“Yeah, but Ukrainian terrorists? Americans don’t even know where Ukraine is,” I say.

“That’s true.” Henn says.

“ Russian terrorists?” Jonas says.

“Yeah,” Henn says. “‘A Russian terrorist cell.’”

“Ha! Perfect,” I say. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“So I’ve been told,” Henn says.

“I like it,” Jonas says, nodding. He looks deep in thought.

“It’s actually eerily perfect,” Henn says.

“It’s got all the bogey-man buzzwords at once, tied up in a neat little package.

The news stations will have themselves a field day, whipping everyone into a frenzy, which means the feds will have a free pass to do whatever they need to do in plain sight—all in the name of protecting us all from a huge terrorist threat.

’” Henn nods emphatically. “It’s brillz. ”

“What if those two fuckers die in a shoot-out during a raid on the ‘terrorists’ compound’?” I ask. “That’s pretty sexy, isn’t it?”

“Perfecto,” Henn says. “Maybe those two fuckers ‘pulled weapons on officers’ during the raid? That’d be the cleanest for the feds and best for us, too—no way to trace anything back to us.

Simple. Effective. Believable. The feds save the world.

We have nothing to do with it. Great mega-story for the news outlets. It’s a win-win-win.”

Jonas nods. “Thanks, guys.” He looks emboldened. “I think that might work if I sell it right.”

Henn scrunches up his face, thinking. “Lemme see if I can’t get you a little insurance to help you out, big guy.

Maybe I can dig up some more shit on the Secretary of Defense.

Some compromising photos or whatnot. Kiddie porn on his computer.

A dick pic he sent to a minor? I’m sure there’s something.

There’s always something with these guys.

A little insurance would be a good thing to have in your pocket in case the feds balk about taking those two guys out as part of the deal. ”

“Thanks, Henn,” Jonas says. “Yeah, insurance would be awesome.”

“Cool. No problem.”

“Is that everything, bro?” I ask.

Jonas looks at his watch. “Just one more quick thing. What about Oksana? Does she pull a weapon during the shoot-out or not?”

We all ponder the question for a moment, pursing our lips.

“The more people ‘pulled weapons on officers’ and didn’t make it out alive, the less believable the whole thing is,” Henn says. “Plus, women are much less likely to pull a weapon, statistically speaking. We don’t wanna raise any suspicion that anything’s hinky.”

Jonas clenches his jaw. “Did you uncover anything whatsoever to suggest Oksana had something to do with the hit on Sarah?”

“Or maybe knew about it beforehand?” I ask, my jaw clenching in sympathy with my brother’s. I want these fuckers dead every bit as much as he does.

Henn shakes his head. “Everything I’ve seen tells me Max ordered the hit and the Ukrainian Travolta carried it out. All evidence is that Oksana’s a pimpstress and a loyalist to mother Russia, but not a stone-cold killer. Max is the head of the snake. Indubitably.”

Jonas looks deep in thought.

I touch my brother’s shoulder. “I vote you be the God of the New Testament, Jonas—show the perfect measure of force and mercy.”

Jonas runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I dunno.” He exhales. “I’ll think about it on the plane some more.”

“Okay. Follow your gut.” I hug him. “Be safe, bro.” I kiss him on the side of his neck.

“You, too,” Jonas says. He kisses my cheek. “Be careful in the banks, guys. Please.”

“We will.”

“Take extra good care of Kat.” He looks across the room at Sarah. She’s chatting and giggling happily with Kat. “My girl can’t live without her.”

I stare at Kat across the room, my heart suddenly bursting in my chest. “I won’t let anything happen to her, bro. ”

“We’ll keep her safe, big guy,” Henn says.

Jonas hugs Henn. “You’re a fucking genius, man. I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

“Hey, man. We’re family now.”

They slap each other’s backs and when they pull apart, Jonas looks determined.

“You got this,” I say. “You’re a fucking beast, bro.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jonas says.

“Fuck yeah,” I reply.

“Fuck yeah,” Henn echoes. “Wow, I feel so masculated right now. Is this how you guys feel every fucking day? Wow.”

We all laugh.

I look at my watch. “Okay, bro. You better get your ass to the airport. Keep us posted. We’ll be ready all day tomorrow. Just give us the word and we’ll head to the banks.”

Our threesome walks over to the girls, and after the five of us have completed every possible permutation of hugging and whispered goodbyes, Jonas and Sarah waltz out the door, bags in hand and determined expressions on their faces.

“Good luck saving the world, guys!” Kat shouts to their backs.

“Holy crappolaaaaaaaaaaa!” Sarah shouts, just as the door closes behind her.

They’re gone.

Henn, Kat, and I look at each other in a shared daze for a long moment.

“Holy shitballs,” Kat finally says.

“Big shit going down in little China,” Henn says.

“Or little Ukraine,” I add.

“Shit just got real,” Henn says.

“Fo shizzle pops,” Kat says.

Henn exhales, filling his cheeks with air like a blowfish. “Welp.” He looks at Kat. “I guess we’d better take your photo for your Oksana passport, huh? If Jonas and Sarah call upon us to save the world tomorrow, we’d best be ready.”