AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She rolls her eyes. “No. I’m telling you that in order to get closer to Walid—seeing as you haven’t done the hard work of cementing a false identity—you’re going to have to accept that he’s going to figure out who you are. When he does, you’ll have a story that enables him to accept you, a story that will make your offer to him one he can easily accept and believe.”
“What am I going to offer him?”
She smiles softly at me. “So, will you work with me?”
“Let me get this straight, all you need me to do is take down someone I’m already trying to take down, and you’ll help me find and rescue Sofía?”
“Exactamente.”
She’s got to be working for the feds. Has to be.Bollocks. What choice do I have? “Right. I’m in.”
9
SEAN
I’ve got a bad feeling. Though the bank-sized safe, the table Armand and I sit at, and the two guards flanking the door barely dent this large room, it feels too full. Tension beats in every corner, nearly drowning out the late-night revelry in the bar below. The pulse in my ears pounds out both fear and loathing.
In my quest to find Sofía, I’ve met a lot of men who have given me the creeps or made me feel like beating the spit out of them. But I’ve never met anyone I detested as completely as Armand Stoker.
A total nut, he’s right good with anger, hatred, jealousy—any emotion other than happiness, which he labels a weakness. That’s why I never smile in his presence. That and I’d like to punch him in the face. Still, this man has gotten me closer to finding Sofía than I could’ve gotten on my own. Not that he’s aware of it. If he were, I’d be dead.
Getting dead is always a possibility. The guards, the message Armand is sending with them, is something I need to explore. I sneer at the men by the exit. “Usually when I deliver, those blokes stay outside.”
Theflick,flickof steel against Armand’s dry cuticles echoes across the cavernous space. He shrugs. “What does it matter? We are speaking English.”
My flesh crawls at his non-answer. I don’t glance down at my cell, which is off and placed on the table. Dee hid a tiny device on it. She said even with my cell turned off the device could capture content from any nearby cell phone. Armand’s cell sits on the desk as well.
If he knew about that device, it’d be bad. Armand’s appearance—his crooked nose and caved-in right cheek—tell a story, and it’s not the story of a bloke who shuns violence.
I evaluate the guards more closely. Growing up, if I wasn’t on the pitch, I was in the ring. These men got weight, but I could take them. Well, I could if they weren’t armed.
Knowing who makes decisions for Armand, I press my only advantage, “Is Walid unhappy with my work?”
His lips firm. “No.”
That’s good. It means he’s not likely to make any move against me that would require him answering to Walid. He slides the envelope containing the most recent request from Walid across the table. Documents for his brother Aamir.
I’ve moved up in the world. I’m not only creating documents for Walid, but for his brother and their extensive network overseas. Makes me sick.
Got to keep reminding myself I’m collecting enough information to bring them all down. Thanks to Dee that end seems closer than ever.
Armand doesn’t open the envelope. At this point, he knows my work is perfect. I speak up, taking control as Dee instructed. “When you deliver this lot, I’d like you to tell Walid I want a meeting. I’ve gained access to materials that’ll allow me to create border cards, easier to use and cheaper to produce, not just for his men.” I swallow panic, remember that Dee knows what she’s doing and say, “But for the women.”
He pauses, meets my eyes. I have his interest… or is it his anger?
“Why should I help you when you are making my job more difficult?”
“Am I?”
“You took up the cause of nuns, rescuing women who were not yours to rescue.”
Startled, I struggle for an answer. I know what he’s referencing and everything in me wants to go to battle for Dee and Rosa, tell him to back the fuck off, but to do that is to squander opportunity.
“Thought Walid didn’t snatch women from town because of the cartels.”
Armand’s eyes become slits. “Why do you keep meeting with her, the nun? I saw you before…” He halts with his nail file paused over another cuticle. “Leave it to you to find the one fuckable nun in the soup kitchen.”
I nearly dive over the table and beat the ugly out of the bastard, but I don’t because I’ve learned to control those impulses. They happen fairly regularly when dealing with this kind of degenerate.
