Page 51 of Sor

“I’m sorry to wake you up, baby. I just wanted you to know that I might be a few more days. I’m okay. We’re all okay.”

“I’m so glad,” said Nell. “Be careful, okay?”

“You know I will. I love you, Nell. I love you more than words can possibly say. Stay safe and warm, and I’ll be home for turkey.”

She laughed, nodding into the phone.

“I love you too. See you soon.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Where the fuck was he meeting these people?” asked Frank, looking around the massive room. It was filled with Rolex-wearing, diamond-blinging, self-impressed rich people, and it was making him uncomfortable.

“He just said here at the airport in the VIP meeting space,” said Sor. “That’s all I got from him. I don’t recognize anyone. You guys?”

“Nope. Not a soul,” said Matt. Suddenly, there were cameras and photographers everywhere.

“What the hell?” frowned Sor as they all turned, trying to see what all the fuss was about. Fortunately, they were all at least a head taller than the other people in the room, and that gave them clear line of sight to the cause of the ruckus.

“No,” said Cowboy. “No, tell me this isn’t true.”

“The fucking president. Our fucking president,” said Frank.

They watched as he walked with two Cambodian men in suits and a plethora of guards and secret service men. They started to take a seat in the VIP area when the president looked up, seeing Frank and Ben. His face paled, and he excused himself.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “What are you boys doing here?”

“We’d like to ask you the same, Mr. President,” said Frank.

“All politics,” he laughed. “You know how that goes. Trying to keep the peace for these poor people. This is all the media knows. I was here attempting to do good things.”

“Yes, sir. We know how that goes, alright,” said Sor. “A mutual friend of ours sent us. DeWitt.”

“DeWitt? DeWitt? I don’t believe I know anyone by that name,” he said, turning flushed.

“No offense, sir. But you’re lying,” said Cowboy. “Telltale signs. Skin color changes, eyes dart around the room, your hands are sweating. You’re lying.”

“Now you listen here,” he said in a low tone, attempting to keep the smile on his face. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and you are not about to ruin this for me.”

“Ruinthis? Would this be the microchips you want to give to the same men hoping to overthrow the Cambodian government?” asked Sor.

“Politics, son. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, sir. I’m grateful that I don’t. But I bet those reporters would understand. What do you say we go have a conversation with them. See what they think.”

The president’s face paled, and he held out a hand, pushing it against Sor’s chest.

“You hold right there, son.”

“I’m not your son. Even if I were, I’d be ashamed to admit it. You’re attempting to sell top-secret technology to another faction within this country, hoping for an overthrow of the government. Why would you do that if you weren’t getting something out of it? Perhaps millions of dollars or jewels?”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours, Mr. President. Twenty-four hours to admit your traitorous act or resign. Then our team will expose you, and everything you’re attempting to do in this country. I’m sure that will hurt your Southeast Asia relations,” said Frank. Turning to the others, he smiled.

“Let’s go home, boys.” They left the president standing there, unable to speak as his entire body visibly shook with anger and fear. He’d stepped over a very clear line, and these men were about to put him back where he belonged.

By the time they set foot on Belle Fleur land, it was Thanksgiving Day. They could smell the food all the way from the runway. Having slept for several hours on the jet, they were ready to enjoy the day’s festivities.

When Luke and Hex walked toward them, they all stopped.

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