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She was seated two rows in front of us, stood, realized Bex was out, then retook her seat.
We have a lead on Mithras’ twenty, she responded.Oleander is pushing for immediate op deployment upon touchdown in the UK.
Upon touchdown? I rested my head against Bex’s. Such an op would require my participation, yet I’d promised to remain with her for as long as she needed me. What in the bloody hell was I going to do?
When Bexli woke,I asked Delfino to come sit with her so I could confer with Nem, Ares, and Z again. The four of us collectively decided that before mounting an op, we’d return to Shere. We would do so with the intention of deploying as soon as we could, as long as there was reasonable evidence indicating Mithras was within our reach.
“Oleander is not used to working with a larger team. On the other hand, she has been tracking Mithras for over a year. The argument could be made that this, in fact, is a Unit 23 mission,” said Z.
As much as I wanted to work it out so I didn’t have to leave Bexli, I wanted to rip Mithras limb from limb more. I couldn’t allow this mission to revert to the hands of Unit 23 alone. I needed to see it through to the end.
“What’s happening?” Bex asked when I returned to the seat beside her.
“We believe we have a lead on Lorenzo Moretti’s whereabouts.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Where?”
“Our sources say his base is at the tip of the Sinai Peninsula in a place called Sharm el-Sheikh.” It was the same place I’d traveled to with Nemesis when she initially met with Oleander. At the time, our mission had been to determine who owned a shipping container the UK team had discovered was full of deceased victims. Our intel indicated it had originated from either Egypt or Syria. We’d later learned it came through Turkey and belonged to a man named Marko Mitskovski—not to Mithras.
Her eyes scrunched.
“Bex, does Sharm el-Sheikh mean something to you?”
“I think so. It wasn’t long after we arrived in Milan. I overheard him talking to someone about a photo shoot. The place sounds familiar, although I’m not certain that was it.”
“Who was he discussing it with?”
“He was on his mobile.”
“This is excellent information, Bexli.”
“What happens next?”
“We’ll verify the intel is accurate.”
“And if it is?”
“We’ll go after him.” I hoped Bexli wouldn’t ask anything further; however, the possibility that I would have to leave weighed heavily between us.
I looked beyond her, out the window, and saw we’d be landing soon.
“Cay?”
“We’ll continue our discussion once we know more.”
15
BEXLI
Cayman didn’t need to spell it out for me to know that if they were able to confirm Moretti was in Egypt, he’d leave. And I’d want him to. Finding the man who’d imprisoned and planned to auction me off was more important than having Cay by my side.
More worrying, though, was what would happen to me once he left. I doubted I’d be permitted to stay at the Trace Estate without him there, and honestly, it wasn’t his responsibility to provide me with a place to live. That I had no means of earning an income wasn’t his responsibility either. In both instances, my options were limited. The last thing I wanted to do was return to my parents’ home. I wasn’t even certain they’d have me if I tried. My relationship with my only sibling, my brother, was no better than that with my father. Both were vile human beings, their anger fueled by raging alcoholism.
As far as friends, I had none to speak of other than Cayman. I hadn’t fit in with the kids whose parents were working class, nor did I fit in with the more posh set, like Cayman’s peers.
It had been foolish of me to believe he meant he’d literally be with me as long as I needed him. I was sure what he’d actually intended to say was he’d be my friend as long as I needed him.
He would have no way of knowing how dire things were for me or that, if I was unable to stay with him and refused to go to my parents, I would become homeless. Such a thing would never occur to him.
