Page 58 of Assistant to the Assassin

Ian is silent for a moment, then in his usual stoic tone, he replies, “I swear I will look out for her and protect her from danger. I swear it on my life.”

“Not good enough,” I grit out, emotion clogging my throat.

Ian pulls back, staring at me dead in the eyes. “I swear on Ambrose’s life that I will protect and care for Beth.”

I nod my acceptance, clearing my throat so I don’t give away my emotions. “I never thought I’d see the day Ian Lukas would find love, much less to a criminal,” I tease, trying to distract myself.

He sighs, picking up the knife he had set down on the rack. “I knew your reasons for leaving service weren’t what I had assumed after our conversation on the plane. I knew you were still the good man I used to call a friend, whom I trusted with my life and the lives of our team. You made me reconsider my opinion that people who break laws have cruel intentions. The world is a lot greyer than I thought it was.”

With a small smirk, I reply, “I’m just glad someone has loosened that pole jammed far up your ass.”

He rolls his eyes, shoving my shoulder. “Fuck off.”

Ambrose has already set everything up by the time I join him in the office. All our security camera footage is on, as is the laptop connected to the tracker on Harrison’s boats. On one of the monitors, we have the digital version of the mapped booby traps, and then on a slightly smaller one, we have a map of the island that picks up on thermal radiation, so we can see who is where. There are two red dots showing where Ian and Henry sit in two high hides in the trees. They’re these small platforms that snipers use to gain a tactical advantage above an enemy while staying hidden. Ian is in the south section of the island; Henry is in the north. They’re both in the inner part of the island, with Henry closest to the entrance to the bunker.

“Coms check,” I say into my earpiece.

“Check,” Ian replies.

“Check,” Henry says.

“The tracker shows the yacht a few clicks east of the island. They should be here any minute,” Ambrose informs all of us, pointing at the screen to show me the little dot moving.

My stomach drops, dread filling my entire being.

“It’s going to be okay, B,” Henry assures me, having somehow guessed my current emotional state despite being far away.

I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes. “I know. God doesn’t have the patience to put up with you anyways.”

Ian barks out a laugh, and Henry joins him. I can tell he’s smiling. “What about Satan?”

“Oh, even less. If you stepped one foot in Hell there would be big scary demons ready to kick your ass out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t plan on meeting either today.”

I smile to myself, the distance between us now becoming a physical ache. “Be safe.”

“Always.”

To my right, Ambrose taps a couple keys, humming to himself as he does, and then he shoots me a crooked grin. “It’s time to rock and roll.”

He presses the space bar, and Martha Reeves starts playing from one of the monitors. I’m about to ask why, but that’s when I see that little tracking dot sitting on the coast of the island.

They’re here.

“Their communications are jammed,” Ambrose says, playing the keyboard like a pianist. “All they can hear is ‘Nowhere to Run.’”

“Doesn’t that tip them off that we’re here?” I ask him, biting back a smirk.

“They would have been tipped off no matter what when they realized they couldn’t talk to each other. Besides, I never do anything without something to set the mood.”

“And why is that?”

He leans back in his chair, excitement lighting his eyes. “What kind of pirate would I be if I wasn’t a master of presentation?”

I huff a laugh at that. “Pirate is a bit of a stretch.”

Ambrose shrugs. “A smuggler that steals goods and sells them overseas is quite literally the definition of a pirate. Besides, I’m the registered captain of my smuggling boat. So, joke’s on you.”

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