AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I zoomed in on the marker, testing to see if it was the same sniper’s handiwork, but I saw two different styles of knots at play. One tight and simple, a butterfly knot, the other circling around the branch then slotted in through the loop.
With my eye glued to the scope, I tapped my finger against my earpiece. “Call Eagle Eyes.”
Within seconds, the call connected to the other sniper.
“Are you in Ireland?”
There was a pause. “No.”
I grunted and cut the call.
He was.
Two more calls and I cast aside the notion that Mossad, and the disbanded but totally still active KGB, were here with me.
There was a list of other agencies from all over the world that could have been involved, but they were the usual suspects.
“Call Driftwood.” The line connected to my handler. “May have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
The cut glass British accent had me rolling my eyes.
When I’d first been approached, I’d admit that I took the whole James Bond shit to heart. I’d gotten hooked on Martinis for a while, and I’d been desperate to meet a Q. But then, I recognized it was the same old bullshit as anywhere else.
Same shit, different agency.
“Two others here.”
“Bollocks.” My handler rarely cursed so I raised a brow. “Any idea who they might be?”
I didn’t tell him that I was pretty sure Eagle Eyes was here.
“CIA and CIS. I think.” I just wasn’t sure which had called Eagle Eyes in. He was a gun for hire, after all.
“CIS? Ireland?”
“You don’t know?” I queried.
“No.”
The question was, did I believe him? Handlers weren’t always honest. It didn’t exactly fit the job description.
“Who the fuck are these people?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d had more than one sniper tracking a target, but two? Highly irregular.
“That’s classified.”
“What’s classified is that I’m sharing territory with two marksmen in a tiny fucking town, Driftwood. Am I about to find myself in someone’s crosshairs?”
That was a possibility.
They could be there to make sure I did the job, then they could take me out if I was their target.
For a second, I let myself think that the last time I’d seen Inessa was this morning, tucked up in bed before I left for the day. Her moaning about getting up, even though I’d booked her into an overnight spa treatment.
I thought about how beautiful she’d looked last night when I dressed her in her mother’s jewels.
