Unless… maybe if M told her to wear something similar, she would.
She scoffed at herself and rolled over in the bed onto her side. What the hell was wrong with her? He might have made a flattering comment about her looks, but she’d most likely never even see M in person. Not only that, but after nine years with Guillermo and his constant control, she shouldn’t even want to consider being with a man who wanted to dominate her in any way, right?
Ugh. There she went again, with the foolish idea of what others would say or feel she was supposed to do. That wasn’t her problem! If putting things in the hands of others was comfortable, life pattern or no, then fuck it! It was comfortable, and more importantly, it was what she wanted.
Her food arrived fifteen minutes later. After collecting it from the hall and eating, she slid back into bed. As she dozed off, she slipped into dreams of a shadowy figure who made that soft heatshe felt blaze into a raging fire. His voice was M’s, and it was low and commanding as he told her exactly what he wanted her to do to herself.
WHAT’S THE BEST WAY TO WATCH A FISHING SHOW?
Triumph
Through his laptop screen,Triumph looked at the participants on the secure call. Francesca and Tripoli shared one thumbnail, then there were two other men, one known, one unknown, each in a square of their own.
The first of the two was Special Agent Cruz Livingston of the San Antonio FBI office. He looked particularly rumpled and grumpy. Then again, Francesca had pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night to help with something the FBI shouldn’t be helping with. The man had yet to go to bed since yesterday, making sure the passport happened for G, and he was here anyway.
His connection to the agent was minimal. Cruz was a former co-worker of Francesca’s and had worked her last case with her. Triumph’s only time in his presence was from the sidelines of the final showdown they had when she’d been taken, and seeing her escort him and a woman around Elysium a few times, so they’d never been formally introduced.
However, he had no connection to the other man on the screen, which made him a little nervous, despite Cruz and Francesca vouching for him. This newcomer was a huge cowboy type, complete with a hat. Less rumpled and definitely less grumpy, Texas Ranger Wes King made his screen space seem small.
At first, he didn’t understand what help the ranger would be. Then he remembered that his organization had connections to border security. If Cruz and Francesca thought he would be helpful, he trusted they were correct.
Cruz started the conversation. “How’s she doing?”
“Holding steady as far as I can tell.”
Wes grunted, pushing his cowboy hat back. “She’d need to be tough, given what she was involved in. The Colonel Cartel is bad news. The world got lucky late last summer when half of it imploded. No one seems to know why either.”
Tripoli’s focus left the screen, and the contents of his coffee cup suddenly became very interesting to him.
Proving how observant he was, Wes glanced at the corner of his screen, then returned his gaze back to where Triumph’s thumbnail must be on his screen, raising an eyebrow. “He know something we don’t?”
Triumph shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you.” It was more like he wouldn’t unless Tripoli offered up the information.
Suddenly, Tripoli engaged in the conversation. “Yeah. I know about it, but it can’t leave this discussion.” He ran a hand through his short hair. He hadn’t bothered to style it after his shower, so it lay flat against his head where it had dried. “Cruz, you remember those two mystery guys who were at the airport when Francesca was taken?”
Cruz nodded. “The giant and the quiet guy with the creepy eyes. They disappeared before we could question them, and you told me you didn’t know their names.”
Tripoli nodded. “Sorry. I lied about that last part. I can’t tell you who they really are. What I can tell you is that they work for a mercenary company, and if you try to find them, you won’t. They’re deadmen.”
“What are deadmen?” Wes asked.
“They’re ghosts,” Francesca explained. “They don’t exist. I tried poking into them when I was on medical leave but couldn’t come up with anything. There’s no record of them anywhere. Or if there is, no one could get to it. Even Triumph came up empty, and he’s impossible to hide things from.”
“The giant called me back in August. The quiet guy with the creepy eyes needed a favor,” Tripoli said.
Wes’ face reflected that, after doing the timeline, he knew exactly how they’d returned the help for Francesca. Hector’s death took place in August.
Cruz asked, “We?”
“Me. A few of my Raider buddies. My buddy, Cosmos, and some of his guys.”
“Fuck,” Wes swore. He rubbed his forehead. “How?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I want to know, but I don’t want to know.”
“If you were down there last summer, how come you couldn’t help G now?” Cruz asked.
“Well, there wasn’t exactly anyone stamping my passport for a legal entry, Cruz. The only people we came into contact with… well… they aren’t exactly around to identify us to anyone.”
Triumph’s phone pinged. Glancing at his screen, he saw a text pop up. Relief flooded him at the message. “Package arrived.” He immediately began to text G.
