Page 50 of Taming Achilles

I stopped, glancing at Brett who looked like he was about to have an aneurism. “If he laid a finger on you, I will kill him, and all of those Caledonia dickwads.”

“Not Hugo,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “He’s adorable. Don’t harm him.”

Brett smirked at me. He would kill Geordie and Callum on my behalf. And he’d murder Alastair, who was married to his daughter, just for fun. I was surprised he didn’t kill his son-in-law during the wedding.

“Fine. Hugo gets to live,” Brett acquiesced.

“Are you ready for the bad news, Pippa?” Ajax said, crossing his arms. “I think our hunt for Jason Rhodes has to expand. We need to bring people in.”

I was feeling a deep sense of doom. I had worked to keep my secrets from infesting those I loved the most for almost twenty years. Now, it would be for nothing. Necessity demands so much from us and lays waste to all our best plans.

I had to ask the question, though I dreaded the answer. “What people?”

Chapter 25

Geordie

Humiliating. If I could narrow down my experience with Pippa into one fucking word, it would be humiliating.

Hospital staff asked me to leave after that sod, LeBlanc, kissed her on the cheek. They said it was for friends and family only, and I was neither to Philippa Briseis Fox.

She had outmanoeuvred me. That much was clear. She was running away, just like she had in Venice, and I wasn’t in the mood to let her go. Not this time. I would enjoy our game of cat and mouse.

Meeting Athanya … Detective Delgado … at the Japanese Gardens was an inconvenience. They had cordoned off a nearby rooftop, where they presumed the sniper had been. For once, the police were correct in their assumptions. Though, I suspected that was because of the unique competencies of Delgado herself. Not from the inherent, analytical procedures in place within the police force.

I couldn’t get my head in the game. Thank God Alastair was there, his blond head glinting in the California sun as he knelt at three scratches on the ground in a triangular fashion.

“He’s using American weapons,” Alastair said, finally coming to a standing position, crossing his arms. “He used an M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle. American standard. I’m assuming it’s his comfort weapon.”

“A comfort weapon?” Detective Delgado pressed.

“Oh yes, we all have comfort weapons. I like the TAC 338A.” He looked at me to help make his point. “For most of us, it’s what we trained on the most. You get to know its idiosyncrasies, so it becomes muscle memory.”

Athanya … no, Detective Delgado. I had already gotten my arse skelped for calling her by her first name. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Detective Delgado didn’t look convinced. Scepticism was often the product of competence.

“What’s your weapon of choice, Geordie?” Alastair asked, knowing I’d help make his point for him.

“I’m partial to the L115A1, for those exact reasons,” I said with a shrug. “I grew up with it in the SAS.”

“Were all of you British Special Forces?” Detective Delgado asked, looking between me and Alastair.

“Och, aye,” I chuckled. “Callum and I joined together, and we met this limey Englishman in Afghanistan.”

“Hugo’s a French Legionnaire, though,” Alastair wiped the dust from his hands. “But we don’t have him for his precision.”

I laughed. “Aye, he’s not a precision weapon. He’s more of a …” I trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate analogy.

“A MOAB?” Delgado supplied, referring to a Mother of All Bombs, or a GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast. The largest non-nuclear bomb developed in 2003. It was first deployed in 2017 against the Islamic State.

“You know your weapons,” I commented, with that continued sense of respect.

“How can you tell it’s a M2010?” That git, Tanner, interjected, probably unable to stand that the conversation was occurring without his input.

“Look at the tripod markings,” Alastair said, gesturing to the floor. “Maybe he’s got a modified tripod, but this suggests an M2010 versus a Dragonov that typically has a wider base, and shallower rear.”

Alastair walked around, taking a look into the Gardens where we had attended Callum’s wedding. Where someone had taken three shots at me. The platform she had walked down in that white dress, with the crystal bouquet was still standing, covered in yellow police tape. She had worn my ring. She still wore it now, even though she had sacked me. Sacked all of Caledonia Security.

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