Page 86 of Promise of Destruction

Soren

OhmyGod.

I feel like I’m going to be sick. I don’t know if it’s the after-effects of the plane ride, the fact that I haven’t eaten in hours, the humidity, or the fact that I’m stuck in the car with a killer. And I have no doubt that Dimitri is a killer. He looks like he snaps necks for fun. He also looks nervous—unhinged, wild, desperate. It’s not behavior you want to see a killer exhibit, particularly when you’re in an enclosed space with them.

“If there’s really something wrong with the software, like you say,” Declan waves at the man sitting next to him, “then it’s going to take some time to fix. I need a shower, coffee, sleep.”

I notice the way he says the last one, like it’s a long shot but he’s still hopeful enough to try.

“Respectfully,” Dimitri laughs. It’s unhinged, not a sound of humor, but despair. “We don’t have time for you to get your shit together, Evers.”

I cringe, expecting Declan to retaliate in the only way I’ve ever seen him retaliate—with threat of violence. But he only stares at Dimitri suspiciously, assessing him.

“Okay,” Declan says. “Who are we looking for and why are you so bent out of shape about it?”

I think for a moment Dimitri may throw a punch across the space between them, but he takes a breath instead. I notice his knee is bouncing rapidly up and down. He presses his hands together, but that doesn’t assuage his shaking, so he tucks them between his knees.

“The girl we’re looking for,” he amends. “Is Rhea Boudreaux.”

A girl.

There is a girl missing, andDeclanis supposed to help find her?

It doesn’t make sense. Why would he be called in? If someone’s missing, you call the police, the FBI, the CIA.

Actually, I’m not sure the CIA is privy to missing person’s cases. And I guess I don’t know what you would call if someone goes missing in Costa Rica, but I’m sure they have their own three letter agency. Either way, there has to be someone better suited to finding missing children than a millionaire CEO of some bullshit investments firm.

I’m missing something here. That’s all the more evident when Declan sucks in a breath.

He makes a noise of surprise. “I know Rhea Boudreaux.”

“You’ve met her?” Dimitri leans toward him, like he’s inspecting Declan’s face for any hint that he isn’t being truthful.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the misfortune. I know her father though.” His face is twisted in distaste, like he’s just got a mouthful of raw lemon. “Jonathan recruited me.”

Recruited?

I look between them, waiting for one of them to provide the context I’m missing.

Was Declan military? That, at least, would explain why he was on the shortlist for finding missing people. Maybe he was a super secretive operative with special skills I don’t know about?

“I take it you weren’t a fan?” Dimitri laughs, but this time it’s far calmer.

“No.” Declan confirms. “He’s a monster.” He doesn’t elaborate, other than to add, “A monster who signs my paychecks.”

“He doesn’t sign your paychecks.” Dimitri shakes his head. His accent starts to disappear a bit when he calms, and pokes through when he gets fired up again. I don’t know what kind of accent it is; he’s the only person I’ve heard speak since we touched down here. The driver up front keeps looking back at them, but he never opens his mouth to add his two cents. “Jonathan is dead. Remington, his son, signs your checks now. But you’re right about one thing.”

Declan raises an eyebrow, challenging Dimitri’s assessment of him. “Which is?”

“Jonathan was a monster, capable of awful things. He didn’t care about anyone other than himself.”

Declan nods, though his thoughts seem to be focused elsewhere until Dimitri continues.

“If you thought Jonathan was scary, Remington’s worse. Jonathan only cared for money and power. Remington, though? He cares about his sister more than he cares about himself. And that? Empathy, love, compassion? It makes a person a hell of a lot more dangerous.”

fifty-six

Declan