Assassin's Promise (Red Team #5)

Her sigh was deep and long and drew the attention of the madman driving them into the night. He reached over to touch her. His hand was warm and big and comforting on her back. She looked over at him, pleased the nausea was subsiding.

“It’s going to be all right, Remi. You’re safe now. No one will harm you where we’re going. We’ve been fighting the WKB for a while. Believe it or not, they’re a symptom of a much bigger problem.”

She watched him over her shoulder. She liked the sound of his voice. Words were just words, but intent was something else all together. Her gut said his intent was solid.

Greer watched her silently, the hard lines of his face stark in the green light. “Let me know when you’re ready to go again. I don’t want to linger longer than we have to.”

She looked at the open field beyond the car door and decided to see where this was going. The panic had crested. For now. She resettled herself in the cab and shut the door.

They soon cut through the edge of Wolf Creek Bend and out again into the dark mountain road, bordered on both sides by tall, slim evergreens. Up, up, up. Her ears popped as the elevation shifted. It seemed they drove a long way out of town, but it was only minutes. At last he began to slow down, then turned right onto a long drive.

The little ranch house he stopped in front of was lit inside and out. “Whose house is this?” she asked.

“A friend’s.”

They got out of the SUV. She collected her purse and laptop case while he grabbed her suitcase, then they both paused between the SUV and the house. “Greer, I can’t exist in a vacuum. I need some info from you,” she said as she looked up at him.

He looked down at her. The big farm light that lit the drive silhouetted his face, making pockets of shadows where his eyes were, beneath his cheekbones, under his chin. “I know. It’s coming.”

The front door opened. A man stepped out onto the porch. His blond hair was sliced off in a sharp flattop. He nodded at them. “Dr. Chase, Greer. Get in here. We need to get started.” He went back into the house without introducing himself.

“How many of you are there?” She was pretty sure Flattop hadn’t been among those she’d run into at the village a couple of nights ago.

“As many as we need for the job we’re here to do.”

“Thanks.” She started for the front steps. “As usual, that’s astoundingly ambiguous.”

She walked into the house, then stopped. She could see the living room, dining room, and part of the kitchen, all of it empty of humans but full of old farm furniture. Where did Flattop go?

“Remi, if you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled before we begin.” He turned and pulled her suitcase behind him down a hallway to the bedrooms. “You have your choice of rooms.” He went into the one at the end of the hallway. “I suggest you take the master. You’ll be most comfortable here. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

She walked into the room, then turned around. “Greer, what is it that we’re beginning?”

His face was stony. “Come out when you’re ready. ”

She stepped into the hall, still holding her purse and laptop. “I’m ready.” She blinked. “At least, I’m as settled as I’m going to be. Let’s begin whatever this is.”

He held her gaze for another minute, then nodded and walked back into the living room.

She followed him down the hall and across the living room to the stairs. At the basement door, she paused, sending him a panicked glance.

“I won’t leave your side,” he said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

This was so cloak and dagger. A sane person would either laugh or run; she was frozen in place. “What’s in there?” she asked, delaying the inevitable.

He pulled the door to, giving them a moment of privacy. “An old rec room.” His face took on an intensity she’d never seen.

Yeah, that didn’t scare her.

“Trust me. Please.” He bent his head to the side and gave her a small smile. “And there’s a bathroom, in case your stomach complains again.”

She crossed her free hand over her stomach. “Am I going to need it?”

“There are a lot of us. And we can be overwhelming.”

A blond man with eyes like ice opened the door. “Dr. Chase, I’m Owen Tremaine. I own the company these men work for. There’s nothing here but a simple basement.” He flashed Greer a chilling look, then set those steely eyes on her again. “Won’t you please join us? There are things we need to discuss that have to do with our work and your safety.”

He stepped back and gestured for her to enter. She pursed her lips, but did as the head guy requested. At least the room was just a room. It was large and open, but the number of men filling it made it seem half its size—seven of them, including Greer and his boss. She thought of the two who’d remained back at her townhouse and wondered how many more there were. She stopped just inside the room. The boss nodded to the flattop guy, then crossed the room to stand at a space against a wall to her right.

Greer touched her elbow as he gestured to each of the men, calling off their names—all of which rolled into a big, scrambled lump of information. Usually she was excellent at remembering names and faces and titles; it was a skill she’d learned to rely on when she first entered mainstream America and one she used extensively as a professor and researcher.

She nodded to the men. True to his word, Greer remained standing with her. She would never admit the hint of cinnamon and vanilla that swirled between them was at all comforting. Surely someone who smelled like a cookie couldn’t be terribly dangerous, right?

“Please, have a seat, professor.” The flattop guy gestured toward an empty chair. Kit Bolanger—her mind trotted out his info from the introductions that had just happened. He was Greer’s team lead. Was he the one Sally had tried to kill? Who would send a young girl to do that job?

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