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West snorted. “Did you try underhanded methods to get his DNA?”
“Yes. Sort of. A week ago I tried to surprise him at his restaurant. I thought we could talk face-to-face. If he refused, I hope to sneak a bit of DNA from a water bottle or a glass.” Will made a sound of disgust. “He simply sent his bodyguards to beat me up in the alley.”
“And that’s why you looked like you’d had the shit knocked out of you when we saw you at the clinic,” Charlie cut in.
Will didn’t meet his gaze. Just nodded. “Santino and Francisco are old friends of my patient. They volunteered to meet with Benicio at his restaurant.” He dropped his head back against the cushions of the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. “I still don’t know what the hell happened that night. Why were either of them armed? It’s not like I need a pint of blood to run the test. Saliva or even a hair follicle will work.”
“So, you’re determined to get the truth for this dying friend of yours,” Charlie stated.
Will’s eyes flashed open, filled with fiery determination. Charlie nearly smiled. That was the Will he knew from Paris. No one and nothing ever stood in this man’s way when he set his mind to something. Not exhaustion. Not lack of knowledge. And apparently, not even bullets.
“Carlos is dying and if I can answer this one question for him, he can pass away with a modicum of peace. He accepts that their research might be wrong, and that Benicio might not be his grandnephew, but not knowing is eating away at him.”
Edison chuckled darkly and pointed his beer bottle at Will. “And wouldn’t it be sweet to tell that asshole that his mother is a member of the group that he and his father are trying so desperately to erase?”
“It wasn’t about that in the beginning,” Will started and then scoffed. “But yeah, after how much he’s fought me. After what happened to Santino and Francisco, I would love to see his family taken down a few pegs.”
“All right.” Charlie removed the bag of ice from his jaw and dropped it on the table. He picked up his beer and lifted it in salute to Will. “We’re in.”
“What?” Will cried, but Charlie ignored him and turned his attention to his three friends.
“I’m assuming you don’t mind a change of plans,” he said, lifting one brow.
West offered his usual indifferent shrug, while Kairo and Ed were decidedly more enthusiastic.
“Oh, he definitely sounds like the type of asshole who needs to be squashed. I’m down for it,” Edison agreed.
“Appears to be more interesting than our last job. That was going nowhere fast,” Kairo added.
It was a shame they wouldn’t be able to tell Stephen and Ehren how those paintings ended up in Yusuf Badem’s collection, but answering this question and protecting Will was currently more important.
“Wait! You’re not in. You can’t help me on this!” Will argued. “I’ve put your lives in danger enough. I just need to find a way to be sneakier about this. That’s all. I will figure this out.”
Charlie leaned forward, bracing both of his hands on his knees as he looked Will in the eyes. “We’ve got this. We know sneaky. We’re former CIA.”
10
WILL MONROE
CIA.
Charlie said they were CIA.
Why was he shocked? He shouldn’t be shocked at all. Something had always told him that the IT story was utter bullshit. Yes, they could all talk tech mumbo jumbo, leaving Will completely confused, but that didn’t mean anything. He was regularly confused by the apps on his phone.
No, it was something else. A gut feeling.
But CIA?
Oh, it had crossed his mind along with a lot of other crazy ideas, but none of them had truly been possible.
“Are you shitting me? This is a joke, right? You’re making fun of me because I got myself into this mess.”
“No. It’s not a joke,” Charlie answered calmly.
Will lurched to his feet and paced to the other side of the room. He was facing a painting of a sailboat as it glided into a bay, but it barely registered. His brain was a scrambled mess of broken thoughts.
CIA would explain why they so easily handled the threat at the clinic.
And his pursuers tonight.
“CIA?” he demanded, turning to face the four sets of eyes closely watching him.
“Former,” Kairo emphasized. “But yeah.”
Will’s gaze snapped over to Charlie alone. “Even in Paris?”
Charlie’s lips turned into a frown and he gave a single, curt nod.
He lurched a step in Charlie’s direction as rage and pain swelled up. He tried to ball his right hand into a fist when a different kind of pain caught his breath, reminding him that he’d hit Charlie once already tonight.
“I have no problem with you hitting me again,” Charlie began and nodded at Will’s hand, “but you’re liable to break something if you do. You need both of your hands, Will.”
