“He looking for a job?”
Mark laughs, tipping his head back, setting the glass down. “No. Chase has his life planned. No need to draw him into this.”
“And your dad?” Mark’s biological father was one of the deepest undercover CIA agents in agency history. He’d become a motorcycle club president in Southern California and had been instrumental in the assassination of the biggest international drug lord in U.S. history.
El Brujo.
Chase’s girlfriend had actually killed El Brujo, but credit went to Galt, to protect her.
“Galt’s gone. Well hidden, far from here.”
“Good. That’s where he should be.”
“Don’t want to talk about Galt.”
“Don’t want to talk about Lindsay,” I say, mimicking him.
He shrugs. “We need to figure out who’s behind all this, and if that means getting close to her to get info, you might have to do it.”
“Like you did with Carrie when you were trying to get her father convicted?”
He winces.
“I take that back.”
“You damn well better. I’m not jeopardizing my relationship with her for the sake of a mission.”
Cold eyes meet mine.
“Then you’re not the soldier I once knew.”
“Maybe that soldier wasn’t as good as you thought.”
I grunt.
“Drew.” He says my name like it’s a threat.
I turn away, going into my bedroom, ignoring him. He doesn’t follow, and by the time I’m in running shorts, a t-shirt, and have my hydropack water system on, Mark’s gone. I look out my front window just in time to see him climb into a giant black SUV, one I recognize from Harry’s security detail.
A vague sense of unease fills my pores.
Time to run it off.
Chapter 8
I live six miles from The Grove, but it’s like living in another world. The apartments on the beach up the coast are nice and way above my old pay grade in the military, but as I pound out the miles on dirt paths and paved roads, dipping into the beach sand here and there, I feel the money change.
You can smell money in California. It smells like a freshly-watered green lawn.
Having studied topography and boundary maps of the three square miles around The Grove, I know exactly how to get on the estate grounds without being noticed.
Which enrages me. My guys should be better.
I trained them to do better.
“Gentian!” I bark into my ear piece. “Jesus Fucking Christ, I just snuck onto the grounds. What the hell are the -- ”
A red laser from a rifle sight bounces right between my eyes.
“Not good enough,” I grunt. “Twenty seconds is all they need. Do better.”
“We just turned the sight on to make a point, sir. Had you the entire time.”
Good man.
“Fair enough.”
“There a problem, sir?”
“No. Just coming in to check out the terrain and reinforce security.”
“They’re safe, sir. We’ve got it covered.”
Apparently, they do.
He comes out of the bushes to my right, wearing dark, casual clothes, gun belt loose around his waist, no attempt made to hide it.
“Lindsay’s here,” he informs me.
“Where else would she be?” I bark.
“There was some question about whether she’d accompany her mother to New York for a charity event.”
“Oh.”
“Her mother declined. Said Lindsay’s not ready for it.”
I snort. “Monica’s PR people probably told her the numbers wouldn’t move in the positive direction.”
“I gathered as much.”
Gentian’s looking at Lindsay’s window, which is dark.
“No sign of those bastards or their operatives?”
“None.”
“You double-checked the backgrounds of all my men?”
“Yes. They’re clean.”
My bladder has been screaming for attention since mile three. I walk around a bush, void it, and come back to find him gone.
“Sir?” My earpiece crackles. “Change of the team for the new shift. If you need me, we can meet up again inside.”
“No. Go do the shift switch.” I stare at the pale grey glass, the nighttime sky reflected in her window, the sheer curtains behind it wispy, decorative nothingness. We’ve added thick curtains designed to help with gunshots. While the glass is bulletproof, it’s not perfect. I make a mental note to check on additional infrastructure issues we can upgrade on the house.
And then the curtains part, Lindsay appearing in the moonlight, wearing a gauzy nightgown, her hair down and loose around her shoulders.
My mouth goes dry.
My heart stops.
My body burns.