Page 13 of Final Sins

Surprise flitted across his face. “You got all that from one look? You do realize these aren’t my clothes.”

“They’re ours.”

“Then how—” He slapped his forehead. “The blood draw. You IDed me. What if I hadn’t passed?”

“You’d be in the LA river.”

“Isn’t it like a foot deep?”

“Let me rephrase. Your body would be in the river.”

Or so she’d like him to believe. In reality, she’d never sanction murder. Still, she needed him gone, without compromising their location. The Castle Protocol it would be: drug him and drop him off with friendlies. For now, play nice.

“Look,” she said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Munsinger’s safe. He wants our help disappearing. We’re the good guys here.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, and Alex fought the urge to roll hers. This was going to be a long day.

Alex led him to the kitchen area. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, masking the sterile scent of antiseptic that clung to him.

“Help yourself,” she gestured to the spread. “How’s the wound?”

Jason lifted his shirt, revealing a neatly dressed injury. “Nicely cleaned up. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank Mac. Guy’s amazing.”

“Will do.” Jason piled his plate high, his movements precise despite his injury.

He was big, strong—typical special forces type, with that confidence highly trained men wore like a second skin. But there was more. A vulnerability in his eyes, and intelligence. Definitely that. Handsome in a wind-beaten, knocked-around way.

Not that she cared. At all.

He scanned the facility.

Alex found herself seeing it through a stranger’s eyes—the huge, open room with its high-tech corner of humming computers, the state-of-the-art workout area, and the gourmet kitchen they stood in. Above them sat the ivy-covered Beverly Hills mansion, all faux Italianate charm and eight bedrooms. The pool big enough for a hockey team. Her private suite with its walk-in closet stuffed with designer clothes she only wore under extreme duress.

None of which he’d see.

“Nice setup.” He nodded appreciatively.

Alex hummed noncommittally, focusing on selecting a perfectly ripe peach.

He leaned against the counter, pressing his uninjured side into the granite edge. “So, how does this disappearing thing work?”

She debated ignoring him, but her cousin, Gabriel, sauntered in, his black hair tousled, slim form draped in baggy chinos and a concert tee that should have been tossed years ago. Dark circles underlined his eyes.

He nodded at Jason and beelined for the coffee pot. “Morning.”

“You going to introduce me?” Jason asked her.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Gabe shot her a look. “Don’t mind Lexie. She’s not a morning person.”

“Like you are,” she retorted.

He smiled. “I haven’t been to bed yet, so for me, it’s not technically morning yet.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, willing Gabe to disappear.

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