Page 16 of Northern Escape


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Interesting.

And yet he wasn’t surprised the woman had been poking around since William Hunter disappeared, asking a lot of questions. His employers wanted her to disappear, too. Ask him, that was just going to raise more red flags with the authorities, but he wasn’t paid to caution them. It would be a fairly quick job that could prove lucrative if he played his cards right.

I want double my standard fee.

Silence.

He shrugged and put his phone away. Risk goes up, price goes up. They knew that. And after their last clumsy attempt at intervention, which caused this mess in the first place, he should be asking five times his usual fee.

He wrapped his freezing hands around his coffee mug and watched snow fall from the cozy cafe’s window. It was still quiet, too early for zombie commuters to shuffle through for their morning hits of caffeine. His favorite time of day, when he could be alone with his coffee and his thoughts.

His phone signaled from his pocket, but he ignored it. They could wait. He savored his coffee and once again wondered if he should bail from this job.

Yeah, he definitely should. In any other circumstances, he would.

But William Hunter had seen his face.

Even worse, Will Hunterknewhim.

Abbott Krane didn’t exist. It was just one name in the long list of many he’d had over the years. But his face? That didn’t change. Hair color, facial hair—yeah, he could change those in a snap. But the shape of his eyes, the bump on the bridge of his nose, the thin scar along the line of his jaw? He wasn’t a damn make-up artist and couldn’t change those. Unfortunately, several law enforcement agencies throughout the world were looking for a face with those characteristics. They knew him by the code name Spector, the name the CIA gave him before he went rogue. He’d had to get close to William Hunter. Befriend him. If the drunk ever put two and two together, he was fucked.

He finished his coffee before checking his phone again. No surprise, they had agreed to his demand and already transferred half upfront, as per their original contract.

Good.

They wanted it to look like an accident so as not to draw any attention.

Well, fuck. So much for quick cash. He couldn’t just drive out to Brielle Ives’s place right now and kill her in her bed.

Okay, then. Back to basics. He’d made a name for himself early in his career for accidental deaths. And it appeared they had already done his homework for him. Along with the payment confirmation, they sent a link to a dossier they had compiled on Brielle Ives. It was sadly light on intel, but he didn’t need it. He already knew her through his “friendship” with William Hunter. She even trusted him. In fact, he’d already talked to her this morning and knew she planned to fly from Anchorage to Solitaire today.

Well, then.He pulled on his jacket and stuffed a couple bucks in the barista’s tip jar on his way out.Back to work.

7

He wasn’t going to show.

Bree stood on the airfield, the wind biting at the little bit of exposed skin around her eyes as she stared toward the road. The sun wouldn’t rise for another two and a half hours, but she didn’t see any headlights breaking the darkness, bouncing toward the airfield. She checked her watch. 6:05 a.m. They should’ve been gone already, so why was she still standing here?

The dogs and supplies were loaded, the plane prepped.

And no Ellis.

She didn’t know why she was surprised. Of course he wasn’t going to come. He talked a big game, but he had no follow-through.

Probably for the better. He may have been born and raised in Alaska, but he’d been gone for almost as many years as he’d lived here. He was out of practice and his blood had thinned out under the California sun.

He’d only slow her down. Weigh her down.

She should go.

As she turned toward the plane, the wind carried the rumble of an engine to her ears. She glanced toward the road again and there were the headlights. Except they were too small and close together to be from a truck. Was he riding in on a snowmobile?

Yes. Yes, he was.

Color her surprised. Maybe his blood hadn't thinned out too much, after all.

“Hey,” he called as he brought the sled to a halt in front of the hanger. “Sorry. The damn rental died. I found Dad’s old snowmachine in his garage, but it needed some work.” He hopped off, shook out his hands, and wiggled his fingers to get his blood pumping again. “Whew. I didn’t think I’d make it.”

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