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“Sounds like they’re determined to see their plan through, no matter the cost,” Andi said.
“That’s what I fear,” Christian said, looking at Andi. She could hold her own, but he’d protect her with his life.
“What do we do now?” Andi asked, rocking back on the soles of her bare feet.
“Now we catch them,” he said, moving for his gun, slipping it into his waist holder.
“How?” she asked.
“Just to be safe, we go through the list of all the places in California he and I researched.”
“Including the yachts?” Greyson asked.
“They are my highest priority. Ethan was really hyped up about the possibility. I’ll text you a list of the ones I remember researching. See if you can find what marinas they’re currently in—if any are in Cali and still operational. If I was planning a double heist, I’d hit a yacht next. No one would expect it in domestic waters, plus easy getaway by boat.”
“Consider it done,” Greyson said. “I’ll get you two on a flight into L.A. and text you the info. Call when you’re on the ground.”
“Will do.”
“And, Christian...”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. If Teresa Gutierrez sent one man to take you guys out, I doubt she’ll hesitate to send another.”
SIXTY-FIVE
THE FOLLOWING MORNING,Deckard rang Mitch’s doorbell. Thanks to Greyson’s call, everything was in place, but how was he going to deal with the fact he’d helped set a murderer free? Righteous anger burned through his limbs. Anger for all Mitch had done to Anne, to Andi, and for pulling a brilliant con on him. How hadn’t he seen that? Maybe he needed to rethink things? Take some time off to clear his head? But all that had to wait until Mitch was where he belonged, even if it was for a different reason.
Mitch opened the door, then smiled. “Deckard. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”
“Really. What for?”
“Just interested in the man who set me free.”
Deckard swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He had to remain calm, level, and keep his focus on the bigger picture or he’d lose it on Mitch. “Can we come in? I’ve got something I need to run by you.”
“Sure, okay.” Mitch’s gaze fixed on Harper.
The thought of Mitch even looking at Harper, especially the way he was right now—with a mix of interest and curiosity—turned Deckard’s stomach. Made him want to yank Harper away from theevil man as fast as he could. What Mitch had done was flat-out evil. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“I’m Harper Grace,” she said, pulling Deckard back to the moment.
“Harper.” Mitch took her hand and placed his other one over their clasped ones. “So nice to meet you. You’re Deckard’s friend?”
Deckard clamped his jaw. He wasn’t asking. He knew exactly who she was. He knew about everything—sending someone to try to take them out. It was him. Deckard took a stiff inhale.
Harper looked at Deckard. “Yes.” She nodded. “And partner,” she added.
Good answer.They were partners on the case, but Mitch could naturally assume romantic partners, given the way it was phrased. Which equated to—“let go of her hand before I bust your lip.” It took all the restraint he had to keep from lunging at Mitch for all he’d done, for all the pain and sorrow he’d inflicted.
“Ah. I see,” Mitch said, releasing her hand. “Then I’d say he’s a lucky man.”
She looked at Deckard with a smile. Mitch had taken it the way they’d hoped. Whatever kept the creep from leering at Harper. He would be a lucky man indeed if Harper were his, but they were hardly there yet. And with her leaving for her mission with the International Committee for the Red Cross, their chance, his chance to ... to ... He rubbed his neck. He needed to shift his focus.
