Page 97 of Savage Redemption

“Do you?” I’d hoped he might be past all that. “He fired you. Just before you quit, as I heard it.”

“An oath is binding, you know that. Sorry, I wish you well, and I understand why you feel as you do. But count me out.”

I end the call, wishing Baz well and sending my regards to his wife and lovely daughter. Looks like I’m on my own.

A bombon his yacht would be the simplest solution but too indiscriminate. Janey would possibly be caught up in it, crew members, certainly. Even without Ethan’s warning, I dismiss that. I do my killing with precision, and only when truly warranted. Innocent bystanders are not my thing.

A sniper’s bullet. Certainly, a possibility, but I’ll need to hire a marksman. I’m a decent shot, but this is out of my league. I do know one or two potential candidates, though, and the cost is hardly a consideration. This can be Plan B. I start leafing through my contacts, just in case.

A well-placed knife in the gut. That’s one I could deliver myself, and that notion does offer a degree of comfort. Nochance of hitting the wrong target, and he’d know who it was that ended him. And why. I’d have to get onto Tenerife undetected — not especially difficult — and pick my time and place. There’s the matter of his guards, obviously, but from what I saw they tend more towards brawn than brains. And once Kaminski has been despatched it’s amazing how fast their loyalties will shift. Makes my head spin to think of it.

I have a definite preference for the knife. I’ll need to slip onto Tenerife under the radar, so not through an airport. Time to check out flights to the neighbouring low-key island of Fuerteventura and local ferry timetables to Gran Canaria and then over to Tenerife. Better still, I’ll hire a motor launch and be in control of my own schedule.

I outline my plans to Ethan. He makes no comment, which I take as tacit approval. Now, I just have to decide exactly when to strike.

“My dadand Eva are going back to Black Combe.”

I take her hand in my free one. The other is fully occupied juggling a squirming Erin on my hip whilst negotiating the steep cliff path to the rocky beach.

“Are you going with them?”

“My dad wants me to.”

“What do you want,cara?”

“I want to live with you. Where do you think we might go?”

“I’m working on that.” Anywhere in the world, once the threat from Kaminski has been neutralised. “I rather fancy Paris.”

“Oh, yes! I love Paris.”

“Right, that’s settled, then.”

It’s a rare day on Caraksay. Hardly any wind, well, something less than a force-nine gale, and clear skies. A good day for a walkon the beach. Mrs McRae even provided us with a picnic, safely stowed in the backpack slung over my shoulders.

Rosie chatters on happily. “We went to Paris a lot when I was little. Well, all over France, really. We hired a cottage near Montpellier one summer, just me and Dad, and Grace. It was wonderful, swimming in the Mediterranean every day.”

“No Eva?”

“It was B.E. Before Eva.”

“Ah. I see.” It’s one way to divide up your life, I suppose. I tend to think in terms of B.K. Before Kaminski changed to course of my life by murdering my cousins, and after.

We reach the beach, and I set Erin down. She charges off immediately in hot pursuit of an unwary puffin. I dart after her and stop her before she chases it right into the lapping waves. “Hey, let the birdie go home for his dinner, and we’ll have ours right here.”

Persuaded, she wraps her tiny fingers around one of mine and trots back with me, her little legs still unsteady, to where Rosie has already picked a sheltered spot with some conveniently placed flat rocks to sit on. I set down the backpack and leave Rosie to unload our food while Erin babbles about crabs, I think.

Her monologue is interrupted by my phone ringing in my pocket.

I give Erin a chocolate finger to occupy her while I fish around for the device. I recognise the number on the screen.

“Bartosz?” I greet him cordially enough.

“I changed my mind,” he snarls.

“Excuse me?” I move slightly away. I suspect this is not going to be a conversation for a toddler to listen to.

“Kaminski. I’m in. What’s the plan?”

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