Page 41 of Black and Brown

A force of atmosphere affecting anyone in his vicinity.

Mirage was more than grateful it hadn’t consumed his partner. If Grace said he didn’t want Meridian, he believed him. His partner was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.

If Grace was feeling an inkling of what Mirage was, of what he had been for years, then this would be resolved tonight.

Once inside the blacked-out truck, he locked gazes with Grace and asked Driver, “Take us to Whispering Pines Park.”

“Yes, sir.”

Their transporter was known only as Driver. It was the name given to him by the agency.

Mirage knew he was a retired CIA spy with principles and confidentiality ingrained in him. Those were all the details they were given.

Traffic in the city was terrible. When they were three blocks from the park, he and Grace decided to walk the rest of the way.

There weren’t many pedestrians around this time of night. All the date hunters and barhoppers had already ventured downtown.

They walked arm in arm at a moderate pace with their hoods on, heads bowed, and their collars pulled up to their jaws.

In the day of such modern technology and surveillance on every street corner, it was impossible not to be seen, but it was possible to be unrecognizable.

Grace appeared more relaxed, and Mirage noticed the rise and fall of his broad chest while he breathed in the cool air.

Nestled in their comfortable silence, they approached an alley with the sounds of a scuffle filtering out onto the sidewalk.

Once they reached the entrance, the narrow pathway was too dark to see faces, but the silhouette of four men plus their victim was clear.

Slurred voices demanding payment of whatever debt was owed were followed by the sound of fists meeting flesh before grunts and moans of pain.

Grace stopped, his head still down, his jaw twitching.

Mirage shook his head at him.

He knew his partner wanted to intervene, unable to resist righting a situation. And whatever was happening down there in the dark was very wrong.

“We fight the fights we’re ordered,” Mirage reminded.

Another sequence of punches and kicks to the man on the ground polluted the once-clean air.

“Don’t,” Mirage hissed.

As Ravens, they were never allowed to attract unwarranted attention.

“If you can’t pay me, I guess I’ll have to collect what’s owed from that pretty wife of yours,” a sleazy voice taunted. “Then we’ll call it even.”

Mirage guessed that was Grace’s last straw because he pulled his leather gloves from his coat pocket and slid them on before turning down the alley.

Dammit, Grace.

Mirage fell in step behind his partner, moving as one being as he followed him deeper into the darkness.

The thugs were now feet away, still beating the shit out of a man huddled on the ground.

The one standing off to the side noticed them first, just in time for it to be too late. He and Grace were already on him.

Concealed behind Grace’s looming form, Mirage pulled three slender throwing knives from beneath the cuff of his sleeve and hurled one after the other under Grace’s arm while he pulled a silenced Beretta from his trench.

Rapid flicks of Mirage’s wrists sent two unseen blades whistling through the air.