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“Kill me?” Candace challenges. “I’m okay with you just saying what you have to say. So how do I get out of this?” She pours creamer into my cup, keep on keepin’ on, despite the new threat to her life.
“We make sure Gabriel’s ‘doctor’ never gets to you,” I say, taking another bite of my éclair.
“But how?” Candace asks. “He was adamant. I don’t even think it’s to catch me in a lie. He’s a germaphobe.”
“I could just kill him,” I say flippantly, between bites and with a scowl at her untouched éclair. “Eat, baby. You have to be starving.”
She picks up her éclair. “Perhaps just surgically remove his hand?”
“I do need to keep up my skills.” I grin.
She does, too, not the least bit rattled by this conversation. Fuck, I love her.
“I was tapped in for the call between Gabriel and the doctor,” Smith says, removing an earpiece. “That person, a Dr. Moore, is registered with the medical board and nearing retirement. He does house calls for five hundred dollars a visit.”
Adam eyes me and arches a brow. I eye Asher. “See if you can connect him to Pocher.” I glance at Candace. “I’ll be there in the closet, ready to operate, and not on you, baby, though we can play operation as soon as we get to New York.”
“You in the closet,” Smith jibes and then snorts.
“You being there would be good,” she agrees, ignoring him.
That easy confirmation proves one thing to me. She’s not showboating by going to that party. She really feels it’s necessary. Unfortunately, I don’t disagree. The only way to keep her away from Gabriel is to get rid of him. “Where are we on connecting Gabriel to my missions?” I ask.
“I called Blake,” Asher says. “I can’t get to anything that exposes him. We’re talking about hacking CIA-level data and Blake is our man.”
I wave my éclair in his direction. “I thought he was hunting a serial killer?”
“He’s making time for us anyway,” Asher confirms. “And in other developments, he was able to get a hold of Aaron. He’s meeting us in New York.”
At the mention of our new Walker recruit, I set down my donut. “Did you see me set my donut down?” I ask. “I don’t set my donut down, but I’m doing it now for a reason. I’ve lost my appetite. If Honest Gabe doesn’t justify my hate for the fucking CIA, I don’t know what does.”
“We’ve had this conversation,” Adam says. “He’s one of us now.”
“He is,” Smith agrees. “I hate that bastard, but that’s personal. I still let him watch my back.”
Adam shoots him a scathing look. “Smith got all bug-eyed over Aaron’s woman, but she was always Aaron’s.” He eyes Candace. “In case we haven’t shared this with you before now, the CIA tried to kill Aaron and his wife, who wasn’t his wife at the time. After framing him for treason. Believe me. Aaron is lethal in all the right ways.” His attention shifts back to me. “If anyone will understand your hate for Gabriel, it’s him.”
“What did he do for the CIA?” I ask.
“He killed people,” Smith says. “And he did it without bad jokes.”
“Well, then I already hate Aaron,” I declare. “Everyone should hear a bad joke before they die.” I reach for my coffee. “You know what happens when a spook chases a spook?” I don’t wait for a reply. “Nothing. They’re both too busy ironing their suits and looking in the mirror to find each other.”
My cellphone rings and I set down my cup and snake it from my pocket to find the call I’ve been waiting on: Kane Mendez. Another man who spends a little too much time spiffing up his fancy suits, but he balances that with just the right amount of blood on his hands, perhaps even more than me. And I’m about to make him our man. I answer the call, “Can you talk?” he asks in his lightly accented voice.
“Give me five minutes.”
“I’ll call back.”
He hangs up and I kiss Candace. “I need to take this.” Without giving her and the Walker team time to ask questions, I stand up. Kane and I have a history and this call needs to be handled in private.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Savage
The Past…
My target: Juan Carlos Miguel.
Member of the Mendez Cartel and a rogue asshole running a sex shop with kidnapped women and girls for sex, really young girls.
My mission: Kill him.
Sometimes I love my fucking job.
On this particular weekend, he’s staying at a fancy South Hampton mansion owned by billionaire oil mogul Kane Mendez. The oil empire is legit, and Mendez swears his uncle took over the cartel when Kane’s father was murdered. My ass. If that were true why the hell is Juan Carlos staying at his property? Whatever the case, none of the Mendez lot are smart. The security system at the rental is outdated, easily dismantled, and Juan Carlos has one single pathetic guard with him. Me against two. I’ll take those odds.
