Page 48 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

The guards moved forward, one unlocking my handcuffs and releasing me from my restraints, the other handing me my gun.

I watched as Indigo and her guards exited the room, leaving the door open.

“With me,” she ordered.

I took a moment to check my weapon, ensuring it was still loaded and ready. The familiar weight of it felt reassuring in my hand and with a practiced motion, I weaved it between my fingers, mimicking the fluid motion of Indigo’s knife. The metal gleamed in the dim light as it spun through the air and when the gun came to rest in my hand, I holstered it with a sense of quiet satisfaction. I may not prefer knives over guns, but I was no stranger to their use—and if push came to shove, I knew I could hold my own in a fight.

With a final glance around the room, I squared my shoulders and followed Indigo and her two thugs down the corridor as it branched left and widened into a comm room I would never have expected in the middle of a forest—it wasn’t quite on the same level with Swim Central, but there had to be one fucking huge-ass generator to power all of this.

What my team back home wouldn’t give to get their hands on all the intel likely stored in here.

Indigo settled into a chair at a wide desk and gestured for me to sit next to her.

“There’s a shipment leaving tomorrow night,” she said, her voice low and measured. “You’re up flying out the cargo.”

I arched an eyebrow, my mind racing even as I maintained a calm exterior. “And what exactly is this shipment?” I asked, my tone neutral. “Weight, destination, fuel, co-pilot, special instructions?”

Indigo’s lips curved into a sly smile, as if she relished the challenge of keeping me in the dark. “All in good time, KD,” she replied. “You’ll have all the details you need before you take off.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as I struggled to maintain my composure—undercover or not, this wasn’t how things were done. “I need intel,” I insisted, my voice firm but controlled. “I can’t fly blind into a situation like this. What are we dealing with? I need to calculate fuel, to assess co-pilot skill. I won’t crash my baby into the side of a mountain because I was unprepared.”

For a moment, there was silence between us, the tension thickening with each passing second, interrupted only when Terminator walked in and leaned against the wall. But then, with a sharp nod, Indigo relented, her lips curving into a smile. She patted my knee. And was it just me, or did the touch linger? Jeez. No.

“Fine,” she conceded, her tone begrudging, and gave me a figure. “The location is need-to-know for now. You’ll get that an hour before you leave. Your co-pilot is Yuri.” Terminator stepped forward. Was he the co-pilot? Damn. I was hoping for some unarmed wannabe who wouldn’t know if it went off-plan. Instead, I got six-six of badass blond-haired merc.

“VVS. Ka-52,” Yuri said in strongly accented English.

I nodded—Russian Air Force, advanced Russian attack helicopter pilot—and respect passed between us. He was built like a brick outhouse, and his grip on his rifle was strong. His expression was unreadable, his gray eyes shuttered, and we shook hands.

“427,” I replied.

He inclined his head;I did the same, and that was it. We’d achieved an acknowledged level of bad-guy bonding. I deserve an Oscar for this.

“Any additional instructions?” I pressed Indigo, unwilling to leave anything to chance. “Security protocols, contingency plans, anything at all?”

Indigo regarded me with a calculating gaze, weighing the pros and cons of divulging more information.

“All in good time,” she said, her words heavy with what sounded like a warning. “This shipment is more valuable than you might imagine—and there are those who would stop at nothing to get their hands on it.”

“My price has gone up.”

She laughed and had her knife against my chest in an instant. No one moved.

“Your price stays the same, and you get to live,” she said.

I shrugged then. “I can work with that.”

She nodded as if that was what she needed to hear—me backing down, and her closing the argument at the end of a blade.

“The helo is tracked. If the pilot veers off course and tries to steal cargo, we have countermeasures on board.” She stepped closer, that damn knife at my chest again. “We pay good money to ensure you stay on task, otherwise…”

“Boom,” I deadpanned.

“Exactly,” she said.

“And how do you explain a huge explosion to the military?”

She raised an eyebrow as if it surprised her I’d thought that far ahead. “We have strategies for that, but you? Well, you’d be dead.” She then gestured at the big Russian hovering next to her. “Yuri will show you where the bunks are; he’ll also watch you.”

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