AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bailey caught the concerned look Raymond shot John. There was something not quite right here. Not dangerous, but not right. The hairs on the back of her neck weren’t standing up in warning; rather, they were tingling in distrust.
As the Hummer approached the city, it turned off onto another paved road and headed around the back of Aspen. Bailey had a pretty good idea where they were going now.
The warehouses had been abandoned ten or fifteen years before. They were still standing, still sturdy, but heavily guarded.
The tracking tag on her collarbone heated as they passed through the guard post. Military-erect, weapons held ready, the guards were impassive and cold.
They were mercenaries, she thought; she knew the sort. Icy-eyed, merciless, bloody. She might even have recognized that one.
The limo pulled through the warehouse yards, moving to the very end of the row of half a dozen huge buildings.
“He doesn’t have a regular security force?” Bailey asked. She could see several other mercenaries milling around.
“He doesn’t need one,” Myron told them as the Hummer pulled into the open door of the last warehouse.
They pulled in a few feet from another Hummer limo. Four guards stood around the vehicle, watching them coldly, intently.
“We’ll check the items up for auction first,” Myron stated, his voice strangely hollow as he turned back to Bailey.
Bailey nodded, watching him carefully as she felt John’s arm tighten around her.
The door opened and Myron got out. As Raymond followed he turned back and glanced at her before nodding slightly.
They were checked for weapons immediately. The guards were chillingly polite, well trained, and thorough. Finally, they nodded at Myron.
“Move back.” He waved the guards away as he held out his arm to Bailey and John. “Come along, children, let’s check out the newest toys up for sale.”
Bailey moved closer to him despite the concern in John’s gaze. She felt Myron’s arm go around her shoulder, and with a sense of shock felt the weapon that slid into the pocket of her coat.
The handgun was heavy, clip-loaded. When her gaze met Myron’s, she saw something more there. Wariness, fatality. He knew tonight was going to see Warbucks’s reign coming to an end. Somehow, he knew it was all an act.
“I’ve known you since you were a child,” he said quietly as they moved along the warehouse. “You were almost my favorite, did you know that?”
She swallowed tightly and shook her head.
“Warbucks was always temperamental. He didn’t care for others as you did.”
Her heart was racing now as she realized he was talking too low for John or Raymond to hear him.
“What’s going on?” she asked him.
“I disabled the jammers this morning,” he said quietly. “Whatever devices you’ve managed to use have been working. I know what you are, I know why you’re here. I always have.”
She almost paused. She would have if he hadn’t kept her moving.
“I’m old and tired,” he said quietly. “And I voted for our current president. I believe in him.”
“God, what are you doing?” she whispered.
“Saving you, I pray,” he stated. “Don’t take anything at face value. Don’t believe in friendships of the past, don’t trust in them. Remember, psychopaths have no friends, no family.”
They moved to the end of the warehouse and a small enclosed office.
“In here.” He moved away from her, unlocked the office, and stepped inside. “I’ll remain with Raymond and leave you to inspect the product at your leisure.”
Bailey and John stepped inside.
There was no chance to warn him of the conversation. The cameras in the corner of each wall were wired with audio and—she was guessing—pretty damned sensitive.
