“My orders are to be sure your objectives are achieved.” Her voice was crisp.
“What are you supposed to do if I don’t achieve objective?”
“I finish where you left off,” she smiled innocently at her fellow meta.
They had stopped walking and were staring at each other in the sunny hotel parking lot.
“And what happens to me?”
Farrow’s deceptively slender shoulders shrugged noncommittally. “I hope we don’t have to cross that bridge, Creed.” She reached out and touched the collar of his shirt, as though straightening it. Creed reflexively jerked away from her.
Since he first met her some six months ago, she had tried to use her charms on him. She came across, at first, as a thoughtful, intelligent woman, but he learned those were just her weapons. She was poisonous. Fortunately, he hadn’t opened up to her at all. If there was one thing he had learned about himself it was that he hated deceit. That’s probably why Meg’s na?veté struck him as so refreshing and sexy. Meg Winter was the polar opposite of Farrow Schone.
Farrow was pretending to pout at his obvious rejection. He wasn’t falling for it. Not one bit.
Over the last six months he had watched this woman carefully. He knew she was a trained sniper, deadly fighter and extremely intelligent. Those skills, coupled with her innocent-looking beauty made her about the scariest meta Creed knew.
“I’ve been invited by the family to stay at their guest house,” he said, aware of his muscles flexing involuntarily.
“Goodie,” Farrow cooed. “Please stay in touch. I don’t want to have to come knocking on the door.” She stopped, faced Creed directly, and raised one beautifully arched brow before adding, “but I will if I have to—or, if you want me to.” She slipped a smolderingly wicked smile across her full lips. “I would appreciate your showing me professional courtesy.”
“Right,” Creed’s jaw tightened in anger.
Just as he turned to walk away from her and toward his car, he heard her phone vibrate in her handbag. “You can tell Williams that I’m being a good boy and obeying all orders,” he called condescendingly over his shoulder.
32 Faith
The guest house was more than comfortable, though simple enough. There was a large bed with freshly washed sheets and an extra blanket folded neatly beside four of the fluffiest pillows Creed had ever seen. In the back was a small kitchen and bathroom stocked with all the essentials. The windows were easily opened allowing the ocean breeze to move freely through the small space. Creed could even hear the ocean waves as they rolled and crashed and retreated down on the beach.
But no matter how comfortable the bed, or how rhythmic the ocean sounds, or how tired his body, sleep was never easy for Creed. It was his mind that wouldn’t be calm at night and it had always been this way. Back at the Facility he would spend hours listening to the meta soldiers snoring soundly in their meager bunks while he tossed and turned trying to quiet his mind. He eventually learned to exist on far less sleep than most. Usually he could achieve a good three or four hours a night. Usually.
So it came as no surprise to Creed that he lay staring out of the open window at the bright stars glowing against the velvet black night.
The next morning, Creed woke feeling exhausted and drained. He was lying in musky, damp sheets now, having sweat through his thin T-shirt and shorts.
A slight groan escaped his throat when he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t looking forward to what he had to do today, but what choice did he have? He knew he had to act soon before Farrow decided she needed to take over.
Creed began walking toward the bathroom as he thought. Farrow’s version of “achieving objectives” with the Winter family and their friends would turn in to an all-out bloodbath. He couldn’t let that happen. He knew he wanted to keep casualties to a minimum, preferably none at all, but he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to pull that off.
The hot water felt amazing on his back. Creed stood in the shower much longer than he usually would have. He let the pulsing spray dig into his skin in hopes that some great idea would occur to him, but he was procrastinating, and he knew it. Angrily, he flipped the shower off and grabbed a towel.
He tried to psych himself back into the mindset he needed to get through the task at hand. This is just a means to an end, Creed. You know what you have to do, and you can do it with the least harm coming to these people. No matter what Williams says he’ll give you for doing this, in the end you know this family is in for trouble and it may as well come from you so you can minimize the damage. If you really care about Meg, you need to get her the help she needs and that help can only come from Williams. Just get the metas back to Germany. Focus, Creed. Do your job because you know you have to.