Page 39 of Oliver (The Golden Team #7)

Oliver

T he wedding was barely twelve hours behind us when Raven knocked on the vineyard cottage door.

“Time to move,” he said simply, holding a manila folder and a face that told me the honeymoon was over.

Emery stood beside me in one of my shirts, hair still tousled from sleep and love making. “You’re leaving?”

I looked at Raven, then back at her. “Not without making a plan. Not this time.”

She crossed her arms. “Good. Because if you think you’re locking me in a tower while you chase the bad people, I will hit you with a wine bottle.”

Raven raised a brow. “Damn, I like her more every day.”

We spread out the folder on the kitchen table. Inside: photos, satellite images, names I recognized from years in Special Forces—and one I didn’t.

“Anthony Vale,” Raven said, tapping the photo of a sharp-jawed man with dead eyes. “Private contractor. Former CIA asset turned black-market middleman. He was running weapons and dirty intelligence through that facility in southern Europe. The same one where Emery was training.”

Emery’s face paled. “He’s the one who gave the order to have me taken.”

I pulled her into my side. “He’s not getting away with it.”

Raven leaned in. “He doesn’t know we’ve got him cold yet. That video file—the one Emery’s name was tagged on? It’s being used to build a federal case. But it’s slow. Quiet. The kind of quiet that gets people killed.”

“I’m not sitting still while he slips away,” I said.

“You won’t have to.” Raven grinned. “We’re going to force his hand. We bait him.”

Emery straightened. “Use me.”

I turned to her, heart stopping. “Are you fucking crazy? Absolutely not.”

“Oliver—”

“No. You’ve done enough. You’ve survived enough. Let us take it from here.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Finally, she nodded, tears brimming. “Then promise me you’ll end it, for good this time. I hate looking over my shoulder every time I want to walk on the beach or go shopping. I don’t want that feeling anymore.”

I cupped her face. “I swear, this is the last one.”

Raven cleared his throat. “We leave at first light. Me, you, and Cyclone. Quiet entry into Santorini. He’s hosting a ‘legitimate business conference’ there. But we’ve got allies waiting.”

Emery stepped forward, surprising both of us. “One condition.”

Raven blinked. “Oh?”

“If you bring him back alive—just long enough for me to look him in the eye—I get the first slap.”

Raven snorted. “Deal.”

I kissed her one last time, then grabbed my gear. Because the time for hiding was over.

Anthony Vale thought he had buried her.

But she survived.

Now we bring the storm.