Page 33

CHAPTER 33

NICK

I reach for Scarlet’s hand, and she yanks it back, out of reach. She’s figured it out. Either she recognizes Leo’s voice on the line or she’s pieced it together from the conversation. Either way, she’s pissed.

I can’t worry about it right now. We’re entering the CCTV zone. Hackers across the world are probably watching like it’s live TV.

Two hundred and fifty million euros. The blokes after me don’t care why they want me dead. I could be the pope and I’d still have a swarm of fortune hunters after me for a payday that size.

I should’ve never brought Scarlet with me. But what was my option? To leave her behind in the tunnel and hope they didn’t find her? Hope she didn’t asphyxiate from the smoke?

My jaw clenches as guilt lashes at my back, striking through to my innards in a way mortal weapons can’t. I should’ve set her up off the grid. Let her live where no one would ever find her, where she could start anew.

“Falcon. Heads-up.”

Headlights blink behind us.

“Vehicle coming in hot.”

“Christ.” I scan the rearview. “Did they get us on CCTV?”

“Unsure. Slow down so the detail behind you can intercept.”

The voice on the line isn’t Tristan, and it’s not Leo. It’s a reminder I’m working with strangers.

“Kairi. Get the team to see what’s out there. We need to know the exposure.”

“On it,” a feminine voice says back.

How many people are on this call?

The vehicle zips past us. Shots blast.

It’s a pistol. Or a rifle.

I slow, watching as an oncoming car crashes into a parked car. Sparks fly through the darkness, lighting up my rearview.

“Head down.” I reach for her on instinct, grasping the back of her head and pushing down.

Shots rip through the air, but from what I can tell, none hit the vehicle.

“Two miles out,” a male voice says.

“Friendlies approaching. Going to follow you in. Got that, Falcon?”

“Aye, aye.”

A distant high-pitched sound wails.

“Ah, Christ. Have we got the bobbies on us?”

“Someone probably called about shots fired.”

“Kairi, don’t we?—”

“She’s off with the crew. I’m on it,” another male voice says. “Confirmed. Reports of shots fired. No details.”

The street has transitioned to a business thoroughfare. Gone are the trees and driveways and the occasional home. The speed limit has also dropped, but we’re blowing through it.

“Map’s going to tell you to turn right at George Street. Turn left. Loop it.”

I look at the map, studying the grid and the blue dot that’s our goal destination. Now’s not the time to be pulling some CIA training bullshit. “If you’re looking to throw a tail?—”

“Do as we say,” yet another male voice says.

I grit my teeth. If this goes sideways, I’ll know sooner than later to cut links to these blokes.

I’d rather have my team with me, but as it is, I don’t know how many of them survived the bombing.

I turn left.

A mass explosion lights the sky.

Shockwaves rock the car.

“Follow the car in front of you. Keep up. Floor it. We’re getting you out of there before first responders arrive.”

I press the accelerator to the mat, noting the detail behind me is gone.

The car in front of me roars into a parking garage. Scarlet has one hand on the dash and one on the seat.

“Get down.”

“Again?”

“Might be an ambush.”

The engine rumbles noticeably louder inside the concrete garage.

Four armed men are standing about, one with a lit fag, relaxed enough to take a puff.

The car in front squeals to a stop, and I whip into a spot one over.

I don’t recognize any of these men.

“Grab your bags,” a voice on the phone says. “Disconnect this call. Get in the van. It’s outfitted. We’ll connect once you’re inside.”

The line goes silent.

The men I followed open the back doors and grab our gear.

“Come on,” one of them says.

Scarlet’s green eyes are clouded with uncertainty, and it’s exactly how I feel. But it doesn’t appear we have any other choice. We’ll play along and hope to land on a safe square.

Four of us hustle down concrete stairs and through a metal door. In my last glance over my shoulder, I see the other men staying behind, the one still puffing on the fag. But they’re armed.

“The others, what are they waiting for?” I ask.

“They’ll slow down any tails.”

“Are any on us?”

“Not that we know of, but it’s only the amateurs we’ll clock.”

Right.

Up ahead, there’s a Mercedes van. Glossy black exterior with black tinted windows. A door opens and Scarlet steps up first.

What the bloody hell is she thinking?

I push past her, but it’s safe. It’s a fucking control station. Screens, computers, seats. In the back, it looks like a small sofa bed.

“Welcome aboard,” a woman dressed in black says. “I’m Sophia. Up there, behind the wheel, is Fisher.”

The totes hit the floor of the van with a thud.

“There’s ammunition in there,” I say. Who the bloody hell tosses a gun bag around?

The driver says something to the man outside and the door slams shut.

“Sit down. Once we’re a block away, we’ll connect and plan.”

“Who do you work for?” I ask as the van’s headlights flick on.

“Sit,” Sophia says. “We’re doing a favor for Arrow.” Her gaze locks on Scarlet, and she extends her hand like she’s at a networking event. “You’re Scarlet, right?”

“Yes.”

“What’s Arrow?” Scarlet asks, looking as wary as I feel.

“It’s a group that takes on projects governments won’t touch.” Sophia sits in a chair that’s bolted onto the floor in front of a computer terminal. The tinted windows dim the passing streetlights. The driver appears to be having a conversation.

The man’s either off his rocker or he’s got an earpiece. He’s got a rough, full beard and an American accent.

I’d guessed Leo was CIA. Who are these bastards? The private group Tristan referenced?

“Might as well sit. Our plan is to drive south,” Sophia says.

“South?”

“From the channel, we’ll get you out via ship or air. You can sit back. The vehicle’s bulletproof. You’re safe. For now.”

She taps on some keys, and a screen comes to life.

“You doing a bloody Zoom call?” We’d had a shit ton of folks on the call earlier.

“No. I’m pulling up a few forums to track things. We’ll loop back with the team in a minute once I get us up and running. We’ve got an escape plan to hatch, right?” She smiles with the nonchalance of a woman who does this shit for a living.

Scarlet sits as far away from me as she can in the vehicle. She doesn’t want to be here, but she, like me, has no choice.

There’s a sliding door in front of the sofa bed in the back. “Do you mind… Can we have a minute?” I ask.

“If you pull that door closed, we won’t hear you.”

I don’t buy for a second that anything we say won’t be listened to, but at least we’ll have the semblance of privacy. If Scarlet will let me explain.

She pushes past the narrow center alley.

That’s good. Maybe with all the stress of getting shot at and such, she’ll overlook the bit about Leo being alive.

I fumble with the door, closing us in. It seals us shut, and I knock a finger against it. It might really be soundproof.

“How could you?”

So much for letting it pass.

“Is Willow alive, too?”

Thanks to raising Lina, I know a helluva a lot better than to tell a woman to pipe down, but it would be lovely if she’d lower her voice.

“I believe so,” I answer honestly, voice hushed.

“And you let me cry? You let me believe she died. You orchestrated a funeral.” She’s practically screaming.

“I’m not actually certain this is soundproof, love.”

“Don’t love me!”

“I’m going to sit back here.” It’s awkward moving around. It’s a high-ceilinged van, but it’s not tall enough for my frame.

I squeeze into the back corner and study the black leather upholstery, collecting my thoughts. Lead with the important bits.

“I care about Leo. But I should mention, Leo isn’t his real name.” She opens her mouth. “I don’t know what it is.” I hold her gaze so she hears me. “I could find out if I wished. But I don’t. And that’s because it’s best if I never know his identity. It’s best if all those around him—and Willow—believe they are dead and, most importantly, behave as if they are dead.”

“Why?”

“Leo was an arms dealer. Let’s just say if word got out he was a leak that double-crossed some of the most dangerous men—and governments—in the world, he wouldn’t live long. Neither, quite possibly, would his family members.”

“Why take Willow?”

That’s an uncomfortable point. “In the end, he didn’t have a choice. And…with what you know of your family…would she have been safe in your world?”

Those green eyes turn thoughtful, taking me in.

“Are you planning to do the same? Fake your death?”

“It’s not an option for me,” I remind her. “Lina is my family. I can’t… She needs me.”

“Does she? You are such a control freak. You control everything. Fake deaths. I bet you decided to send Willow to her fake grave, didn’t you?”

“You’re yelling, lo—” I wisely bite back the word.

“Has it ever occurred to you that your sister would be better off without you always standing there to clean up her messes? You probably fucked her up by solving every single problem she’s ever had. If she needs money, you give it to her. By controlling every bit of her life—and by the way, filling every need is a form of control—you never let her come into her own. You clipped her wings before she flew.”

Yes. I cocked it up. That’s why I owe her.

Scarlet leans down. She’s holding her head in her hands, and a curtain of silky red covers her.

When she rises, tears streak her face. “I’m sorry. That was harsh. I’m just…”

“We’ve had a rough day, what with being bombed and shot at.”

She sniffles. She looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her appear, and while she’s breathtakingly beautiful, the vulnerability is an illusion. She is the personification of enduring strength.

“I won’t leave Lina. As you said, I owe her. Faking a death isn’t an option for me. I’m going to regroup and fight. I’m an Ivanov. We don’t hide.” I swallow and force out what I know to be the truth, but one I don’t want to face. “But you…it’s not the same for you.”

I am a selfish bastard. She’s right about that. If I weren’t, she’d be off the grid.

“Were you ever going to tell me about Willow?”

“No.” The Aspen green transitions to a terrifying, war-mongering green. “I gave my word to keep Leo and Willow safe.”

“Who did you give this word to? Leo?”

“No. Myself.”

“You let me mourn her, and you knew… The entire time, you knew.”

“You’d have done the same if our situations had been reversed.”

She wipes her cheeks. I think she hears me.

“She’s safe?”

“You can ask. These blokes out there…I believe they’re protecting her. Or, hell, maybe they work for them now. I’m… Leo deceived me right up until the end.”

“But you trust them?”

“Fair question,” I admit. “Jury’s out. My gut trusts Leo. He’s with them. He also lied to me for years. He could’ve put me under and didn’t. Left a lifeline if I needed it. I’m choosing to trust him. There are loads of others attempting to off the two of us right now, so there’s not much of a choice.”