Page 52 of Avenging Kelly

London cleared his throat. “Actually, Duke told us Mateo and Shay took them somewhere to keep them safe. I’m pretty sure the Salesman has it covered.”

Casper chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re damn safe.”

London squeezed my hand before he continued. “Connect with Nat Crossley in Italy about Dr. Frances Ritchfield. She’s a doctor working for the government. He’s got the background on her,” London stated.

We both heard Casper’s throat clear. “Why was I kept out of the loop?”

The silence was uncomfortable, and I hopped up from the bed under the pretense of getting us warm rags to clean up when London grabbed my wrist. I sat down and turned to him, shrugging. I wasn’t the one who’d wanted to keep the man in the dark.

“Rafe suggested that we not bring you into this, Casper. He was worried about your history with the Company and what went down with that auction.”

London lifted my hand and kissed the top of it, lighting up my heart. I truly needed everything to come to a head. I was thinking I might have a chance at a good life, and if that were true, I wanted it to begin sooner rather than later.

* * *

It was a bright Friday morning. Trees were on the verge of budding, and the spring bulbs were barely peeking from the thawing earth, but they were reminding all of us that change was in the air.

The hint of Spring in the air always reminded me of new beginnings—new beginnings I wanted, too. For a moment, I was actually in a great mood… and then I remembered I only had six doses of Poker Chips left.

The air was crisp as I ran along the Greenway that offered incredible views of the Green Lady—the Statue of Liberty. She was a symbol of freedom, but so many people weren’t really free, were they? I was a prisoner of the fucking devil I had coursing through my body.

London and I were eager for the other shoe to drop so we could get on with our lives. We hadn’t heard from Casper regarding what he could uncover about Operation Jackpot, but the man was human. He deserved time to sleep, eat, love—he had a husband, and London had said they were good men. I wouldn’t begrudge Casper his happiness.

I was an impatient asshole. Besides, I was pretty sure there wasn’t anything I didn’t know about the bullshit that went on with Jackpot, but confirmation would be helpful.

I rounded the corner to head back to London’s apartment from my run after, making a stop at his favorite bakery for a few cupcakes for after dinner that night, which was when I noticed someone following me.

It was a tall, muscular man, and he was wearing a cap pulled low and aviator sunglasses to hide his face. His pace was steady, and he’d been following me for a few miles, yet he didn’t appear to be trying to catch up. After a moment’s thought, I took the long way and headed around the pier toward the Red Hook Channel.

I turned on the juice and got far enough ahead of my stalker to hide in the trail’s brush and wait. When he caught up to where I was kneeling, he stopped and looked around before I jumped out of the bushes and took down the mother fucker.

When we hit the grass and rolled down the hill toward the channel, the stalker’s hat came off, and I caught my breath. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

It was Jeremy Orr, Ranger Codename: Python. He’d been one of the group of four Army Rangers who had attacked Christa Drummond and nearly killed the woman. Orr had originally gone to prison for pissing hot—failing a urine test, which was a big fucking no-no in the Army. He’d been court-martialed for that transgression and later tried with Brian Coffey for the assault charge, both being found guilty of the crime. Supposedly, both men had been sent to jail, but now Orr was out running loose. How the fuck did that happen?

“Get the fuck off of me. Clearly, I’m tracking you, asshole. You’re on a hit list. Did you know that? I found you and your boyfriend at that crappy hotel,” he stated, reminding me of when Dallas had said he’d seen someone enter the stairwell at the Residence Inn.

I wasn’t surprised, really. The bigger question was how the hell was he out of jail? I’d thought he’d been moved to US Army Correctional in South Korea when I’d been sentenced to Leavenworth.

When I’d been sentenced to USDB in Leavenworth, I’d told my fucking military lawyer there was a problem if either Orr or Coffey were at the same place as me since I’d testified against them. He’d assured me those guys were being moved elsewhere and I’d be fine. What a lying fuck.

I rolled off Orr and stood. “Whose hit list? Yours? Coffey’s? The Gambler’s?” I studied his reaction when I listed off my suspicions, and only when I said The Gambler’s tag did he flinch.

“You know who she is?” I asked.

Orr chuckled. “I’m Spades. I was relocated to South Korea, but I was brought back to Sin City after you were released. They try not to have all four of us at the same place since you Diamonds and Clubs colluded about your true identities. Clubs is dead.”

The comment The Gambler made about one of the two remaining soldiers dying at his own hand flashed in my mind. “Did she kill him on accident or on purpose?”

Orr glanced around, clearly surveying the activity in the area for any threats. “Let’s get somewhere safe to talk about this. We’re both sitting ducks right now. I’m on that fucking list, too, you know. Coffey is out here somewhere looking for both of us. He and Trudeau are tying up loose ends since you showed up at the bar the morning after that poker game.”

Do I believe him? Is he fucking setting me up to kill me by making me think he’s on my side? What’s it gonna cost me to find out?

“Are you armed?” I asked as I considered the probabilities that he was only going to get me somewhere secluded so he could kill me without witnesses. It was broad daylight, after all.

Orr lifted his black running shirt to show me a butterfly knife tucked into the hidden pocket at the top of his tactical pants.

I lifted my thermal shirt to show him an identical knife in my waistband. He spun, showing me he had no other weapons, so I mirrored his actions. It appeared, unless he had a fucking gun tucked behind his balls, that we were on even footing.

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