AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If he caught her, there was no way she could hold out for long in a knife fight. She was, quite simply fucked. And praying.
“BAILEY SEEMS RATHER CALM about allowing you to handle the negotiation phase of our little endeavor,” Myron commented as he handed John a drink and took a seat next to the warmth of the fireplace in the library.
Sipping at his drink, John lifted his brows as though in surprise.
“Negotiations are my strong suit,” he informed the other man. “Bailey’s coordinating possible transport and drop areas as well as monitoring underground chatter concerning new sales up for bid. Talk in this business can be deadly,” John reminded him.
Myron nodded slowly. “As I understand it, she was quite adept at coordinating the missions she was placed on. She was a good agent.”
John waited silently, sipped his drink, and wondered where the other man was going with this. Raymond was silent, watching the exchange in interest rather tha
n participating in it.
“Bailey proves to be exceptional in any endeavor she undertakes,” John assured the other man.
“She’s been quite helpful as well,” Myron stated. “She’s covered for us in several operations that could have been endangered. Without knowing who Warbucks truly was.”
John simply stared back at him now.
Myron’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m quite certain she knows that my alias is Mark Fulton. I wasn’t as careful as I should have been in the early days of this venture, as Warbucks has pointed out quite strongly several times. I’ve been aware that she knew who I was for several years now.”
“Where is this leading?” John asked him calmly. “Bailey really doesn’t give a damn who you are. Her concern was in protecting this little society she loves so dearly, not any one man.”
“And that is commendable. Very commendable.” Myron nodded as he glanced at Raymond. Raymond gave a small nod.
As Myron’s lips parted to say more, there was a heavy, imperious pounding on the door. Turning to the panel with a glare, Myron stalked to the door and swung it open as John and Raymond came to their feet.
Jerric pushed past Myron, his icy gaze finding John.
“Bailey’s in the garden under attack. West end of the maze in corridor seven-twelve,” he stated. “Catalina saw everything from our window.”
John didn’t wait for permission. Fear pumped hard and fast through his system as he moved quickly from the room and motioned Travis to follow him. They were running down the stairs and tearing through the empty ballroom to the French doors within seconds.
Bailey was being attacked. Only one person would dare to attack her here, only one man was insane enough to believe that he could get away with it.
Alberto Rodriquez.
“JERRIC.” MYRON’S VOICE was a smooth, silky drawl as Jerric—aka Micah Sloane—turned to head back out of the room. “You interrupted a very important meeting.”
Jerric kept his expression cool, composed. His gaze didn’t even flicker at the carefully voiced warning.
“Why would you do such a thing? I would think you would consider Bailey’s death advantageous to your gaining the contract that is about to come up.”
Yeah, having the last member of his family exterminated would be as advantageous as taking a hole in his head.
“I owe him.” Jerric stuck to the cover they had developed over the years. Friendly enemies. There were a lot of those in this business. “This repays the debt.”
“And that debt would be?” Myron asked carefully.
“The explosion in Afghanistan designed to kill myself and Catalina,” he stated. “John warned me of the hit.” His lips quirked mockingly. “I’m standing here today because of him.”
Myron’s brows lifted in apparent surprise. “Interesting. The man is said to have unusual morals where this business is concerned.”
Jerric nodded abruptly but remained silent. To say more would only raise suspicion in Myron and do more harm than good in the acquisition of the contract John was after. His silence implied an unwillingness to make John appear the stronger broker of the two of them, though. That knowledge should be clear-cut. John had been set up as the stronger of the two brokers, just as the real John Vincent had worked strenuously to cement his own reputation.
“You trust him then?” he asked Jerric.
“With a deal.” Jerric nodded abruptly. “I wouldn’t cross him, though. It could be deadly. And letting his woman die would definitely be considered crossing him.” He paused as though waiting on them to speak. As though he were curious about the meeting that had been in progress until his interruption.
