Page 161 of Lethal Torture

“Oh, my goodness.” She quite literally clutches her pearls. “And you’re saying Rhys ishere?Tonight?” She looks around as if terrified he will appear any second. “Where?”

“He’s waiting outside. For now.” Simon puts his head close to hers. “At midnight,” he says in a low voice, “Zinaida Melikov is going to take that stage. When she does, the only thing standing between her and several ex–special forces snipers will be Luke Macarthur, who has no idea that his former brothers are working for the government now, under Rhys’s command. As soldiers, and honorable men, they’re disgusted by who Macarthur is in bed with. They volunteered to take them both out.”

Luke grins and taps his earpiece. “You copying this, boys?”

Whatever response he gets makes him give a low chuckle that runs down my spine like a tuning fork.

I’m going to miss this so much, I think, suddenly punched in the gut with longing.The way he makes me laugh at the darkness.

I’m terribly aware of his nearness. It’s an act of physical effort not to turn to him, to instead refocus my attention on the screen in front of me.

“Macarthur might be Melikov’s hired gun,” Simon is saying, “but his loyalty will always remain with his former brothers-in-arms. Tonight one of them will send word that they have information for him. He’ll come running, no questions asked.”

Agatha nods slowly. “So when Macarthur is distracted...”

“...his old colleagues will take out Melikov.” Simon nods. “And her security detail. A clean sweep. We’ll take down her entire criminal organization in full public view. Then we’ll sell it as a successful joint undercover operation. It will be a coup for the government.” He raises his glass to her. “One we can bothtake the credit for, Agatha. We kill Zinaida Melikov, and we’ll win the next election, no question.”

“We’ve got him,” Luke says into his comms, grinning with satisfaction. “He just condemned himself in his own words, and we got it all on tape. Well done, Agatha. Now keep him talking until Mak turns up. And don’t worry. We’ll be listening.”

His eyes capture mine in the mirror, and he smiles reassuringly, as if he can feel my pulse racing through the thin material. One large hand comes up to my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Are you okay?”

I nod, though my mouth is dry. No matter how many times I’ve faced death, hearing my own murder discussed in such cold terms is still jarring.

“I’ll be here, Zin.” His voice is low and calm. “It doesn’t matter if Stewart and Kozlov have a fucking army outside the theater—we’ll be ready for them. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” I whisper, my eyes clinging to his in the mirror.

His smile fades. “The moment we have them all,” he says quietly, “this is over, and you can get down from that stage. Shelby will be dressed, ready to take your place at a moment’s notice.”

For a moment we stare at each other. I want to speak, but the words just won’t come out.

Luke’s expression hardens. “I’ll be close,” he says harshly.

Then he turns and walks out of the room.

37

LUKE

The Quartier is lockeddown tighter than a supermax. We’ve caught Lowbridge convicting himself in his own words. I’ve got the world’s most lethal operators literally frothing to take out Kozlov’s thugs when they come.

And I’m still jumpy as a grunt on his first tour.

I left Zin in her dressing room before I said something I couldn’t take back. I’ve been doing a heroic job of not checking the security camera in there ever since.

That doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what is going on all around her, of course. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. But I don’t trust myself in the small, intimate space, with Zin all but naked under her silk robe, her beautiful eyes dark with that internal storm I thought I quieted long ago.

Why is she doing this to herself?

I’m tempted to cast my last shred of professionalism to the winds, simply walk in to her dressing room, and kiss the fight out of her altogether. I felt her tremble earlier, when Ileaned close. I could feel the desperation and nerves behind her impeccable makeup, the underlying vulnerability I’ve always sensed behind her cool facade.

Right now I should be entirely focused on the operation. Instead, I’m running on autopilot, my every conscious thought focused on how the fuck to stop Zinaida from leaping from a cliff I know we can’t come back from. I’m still arguing with myself over what to do when Mak walks in. As usual, he looks like a cross between James Bond and the cover of GQ magazine.

Normally that amuses me.

Tonight it just pisses me off. Along with everyone else.

“About fucking time,” I growl as he comes through the entrance, pulling him into the security room.