Page 84 of No Lies No Promises

Dante catches my eye, and I nod. Yeah, bro. Time to take charge.

I clear my throat. “Text him we’ll do the swap tomorrow at 8:00, then destroy the burner. No more negotiating.”

When I open my mouth to explain my plan, Daed gasps. “Holy shit. AI Stanley has a cure.”

His fingers fly across the keyboard. “And it gets better. There’s a vault filled with antidote in a government facility in Wisconsin. We don’t have to do the swap.”

“Yeah, we do.” Lil rises to her feet, facing the team. “My father must be stopped.” Ignoring everyone else’s stares, she meets my gaze. “You with me, Big Balls?”

Chuckling, I stride to the back, open the doors, and breathe in fresh air. “Only if you agree to follow my instructions. No improvisations.”

As Schlagle starts to object, I turn, lifting an index finger at her. “I have the plan. Dante has the resources. What are you offering?”

Not waiting for an answer, I motion to the team. “Let’s move out.”

Hopefully, the Feds didn’t confiscate our van.

Chapter 45

Lillian

The sun blazes in a cloudless blue sky as Dante pulls the van to the curb in front of the River Walk entrance. Climbing out first, he slides the side door open, letting in a furnace blast of heat.

Squinting, I take his offered hand and climb out. “Is everyone in place?”

“Yeah. Except you.” He uncurls his fingers, revealing the miniature devices. Pinching one from his palm, I slide it into my ear, tape a mic to my chest, then check the comms.

“Testing. Test. Can you guys hear me?”

“Mr. Balls, here.”

“Mace. Copy.”

“Daedalus. You’re coming in clear.”

Once Dante confirms his connection, he walks me down the stairs, past the umbrella tables and storefronts. When we arrive at the infamous waterway, he passes me the canvas bag containing my father’s laptop.

“You know what to do?” He scans my face for second thoughts, but I am determined to end this.

Swallowing back fear, I nod. “Trust me. I’ve been besting Liam Boyle for years.”

Soon, we reach a flat-bottomed tour boat, the deck surrounded by a bright turquoise railing. Mason, dressed as my guide, reaches for my hand. While he seats me in one of fifteen empty seats, someone raps on the fiberglass underneath my feet.

The bubbles make me smile. Who’d ever guess two men hide beneath the bow?

Dante unwraps our rope, tosses it aboard, then pushes us off. Leaving just enough room for another craft to pass on the left, the quiet electric motor hums as the boat glides forward. At any other time, I’d delight in the quaint canal bordered by shops and restaurants where fine mists from overhead foggers cool passersby. Right now, all I want is for this to end.

Gripping the precious cargo, I steady my breathing while Dante counts down in my ear. “Ten… nine… Cut the engine.”

“Done.” Mace catches my eye. “Ready?”

“Yup.” Heart pounding, I clench the top rail while we drift for what seems like a lifetime.

Where is my father?

I’m about to call it quits when he and his bodyguard emerge from beneath an umbrella and move toward the murky canal, trotting alongside us.

The closest one, a dead ringer for Luis Guzman, says, “Throw me the line.”