Page 21 of Savage Beauty

“Sloane mentioned that. She said we couldn’t tell Sage the truth. Suggested we tell Sage about the men, so she knows to be careful, and that we moved her out of the country tonight as a safety precaution. She says we should tell Sage that she’s flying to DC, and that she’ll meet up with her in Asheville soon.”

“I don’t mind that plan.”

“Figured you wouldn’t.” Sure, he promised Sam he’d take care of both sisters, but he’s in love with only one of them.

“What about you? Is Arrow sending someone to join you?”

“Still working on that. Spoke to Jack about an hour ago. He says there are other parties interested in this, and to do whatever we need to do.” Of course, Jack’s also committed to finding those responsible for Felix’s death. We all are.

“Did he say which parties?” Knox’s question comes through hushed and laced with frustration.

“Interpol. CIA. They want whatever information Sloane can gather. Did you know that Sam Watson met with Jack Sullivan?”

“Jack mentioned it to me once. He was considering a gig with the CIA and wanted to gain insight from Jack.”

“Right.” I force the fact Knox didn’t mention it to me earlier to slide off my back. “Well, it’s not unusual to consider all options. But do you think that’s why Jack’s so supportive of helping the Watson sisters? I mean, obviously, now Arrow is engaged. Felix’s death guarantees we’ll see this through to the end. But at the beginning? Do you think that’s why he didn’t hesitate to help Sage?”

“A man like Jack has so much money, it’s beyond our comprehension. The man probably earns hundreds of millions of dollars in interest and dividends each year. He doesn’t think like we do, Max. And he’s also a good businessman. If he’s got outside entities interested, he’s either charging them or seeing this as a way to deepen relations.”

Right. Sure, he’d bankroll us without outside interest, but he’ll take advantage of outside interest if he can. Just like a good businessman. “Well, the boss man also shared with me he can’t tell me everything that’s going on. You can take the guy out of the CIA, but you can’t take the CIA out of the guy.”

“You’d think he’d want you to have all the information before you went out there.” Knox’s statement mirrors my thoughts.

“Agree.”

“I’m sure it’s some rank level, security clearance BS,” Knox says.

“No doubt.” The BS part is especially foul, though, when we’re working for a private entity. “Well, you keep Sage safe.”

“Want me to get your stuff from the hotel room?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’d say I’d go back to get it, but I risk bringing a tail right to you.”

My phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming text and emits a beep, something that only happens when there’s an urgent text.

Erik

Spotted Solonov’s associates on traffic cams. Possibly headed your way.

Shit. And there’s got to be a delay on that information. Unless maybe the source is Interpol.

“I gotta run,” I say to Knox.

“I see that,” he says, making it clear he got the text, too. “Get out of there. We’ll be behind you tomorrow.”

When I end the call, the nurse is wrapping up with Sloane. There’s a bandage on the back of Sloane’s hand that secures a large cotton ball over the IV needle insertion point. The nurse is probably in her mid-thirties, and her black hair is pulled back into a tight, rounded bun. Her English is solid. We haven’t had any issues speaking English since arriving in this prestigious hospital.

“All okay?” I ask the nurse, wondering how quickly we can move. I’d like to get out of here and as far away from that disabled tracker as possible.

The nurse smiles and nods. Sloane swings her legs off the hospital bed, and her bare feet remind me she can’t very well wear the shoes I decimated with my knife, and she’ll stand out walking through the Kuala Lumpur airport in the tattered dress.

“Where can I get some clothes for Ms. Watson?”

“There’s a shopping center nearby,” the nurse answers with her back to me. She’s writing information on a chart.

“Anything in the hospital?”

“The gift shop might have something. I believe they have sweatshirts, sweatpants, that kind of thing. But I don’t believe you’ll find shoes here. Maybe bedroom slippers.” She tilts her head as if she’s giving it serious thought.

---