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She nods, rubbing her forehead. “Fuckingow,” she grumbles.
“Come on,” I say, ushering her out the door as I pick Anders’ gun up.
Once we’re outside, I point his own weapon on him. I may have been a criminal in a past life, but I’ve never actually had to kill anyone. That was a step too far, a step Favreaux had no issue taking time and time again. One of the many reasons Chet and I had to put him away.
Anders comes to, blinking. He puts his hands up and stammers, “D-don’t shoot!”
“Get out of the car,” I snap. “Slowly.”
He does so, opening the door with some difficulty. Klaus groans as he wakes, practically flopping out the driver’s side door. Raquel is quick to pull his weapon off him, aiming the barrel of the gun at his head. She looks like she means business, her expression the epitome of calm, but I know her better than that. She doesn’t wear her worry on her face or her tension in her shoulders. Her tell is herhands.
I’ve learned over the past few weeks that she bites her nails when she’s nervous. When she’s restless, she clenches and unclenches her fingers. When she’s impatient, she strums out a pattern on whatever surface she can get her hands on. And when she’s terrified…
Her hands shake uncontrollably.
She looks at me, swallowing hard. “What are we supposed to do?”
I don’t have an answer. We’ve only got two options at this point: kill them or let them go and pray they don’t talk. They’re both impossible. I could probably pop Anders if I have to, but Raquel isn’t a killer. I know it within my heart of hearts; she’d never be able to kill a man. No matter how hard I think, I can’t come up with a solution.
“Look man,” Anders says cautiously, “we weren’t going to hurt you. We’re on your side.”
I frown. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“We know what you’re trying to do,” Klaus says, wiping the blood from his nose. “We want in.”
Raquel shifts uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”
“The day we found you at the perimeter,” Anders continues, “I knew you looked super familiar. I was watching the news the other day about the explosion in Paris. Your picture popped up. I wasn’t sure if it was you at the time, but after you left, I knew it must have been you. You’re the thief Interpol’s been searching for.”
I keep my gun steady, unsure if Anders is telling the truth or if he’s bluffing and buying himself some time. “Then why bring us out here?”
“So we could talk in private,” Klaus explains. “We would have all been caught and executed otherwise.”
Raquel’s jaw tightens. “What do you mean you want in?”
“Look, this is only our day job,” Anders says. “I might be on Van Straus’ payroll, but my loyalties don’t lie with him.”
I snort. “So you’re mercs.”
Klaus shakes his head with a frustrated sigh. “We’re not mercenaries. We’re average Joes looking for our next damn paycheck. After Anders and I retired from the military, we thought we’d end up with cushy jobs working some billionaire’s excessive security detail. Turns out, it doesn’t pay as well as we would have liked. The guy may be rich, but he’s fucking stingy.”
“I’ve got a family to feed,” Anders says. His tone sounds genuinely earnest. “And he’s got all that stuff just sitting down there. When we realized you came back to snoop around, we figured you must be after his money, too.”
“We can be your inside men,” Klaus offers. “We’ve got eyes on the outside and inside the property. We know Van Straus’ comings and goings. You need our help to get past his security lasers—”
“He haslasers?” I mutter in disbelief.
Raquel nods sadly. “I was going to tell you.”
“So, what do you say?” Anders asks. “We don’t even want that big of a cut. There’s plenty down there and more than enough to go around. All I’m asking for is ten percent.”
“I want fifteen,” Klaus says hurriedly. “I want to ship off someplace warm and get the hell out of this place. Maybe Fiji or—”
Anders interrupts. “We can help you. Let’s join forces and we’ll all get what we want.”
Raquel and I are quiet for a long time, a silent conversation passing between us. We don’t know the first thing about these guards. They could be lying through their teeth for all we know. Unfortunately, what they’re proposing is incredibly attractive. A job of this scale needs more than two people. Having allies on the inside could prove immensely beneficial.
But I’m not stupid enough to take them at their word. This smells like a trap. What if this is all a set up and they decide to kill us the second we let our guards down? I refuse to leave my daughter’s fate up to strangers.
