Page 28 of Agent vs. Assassin

“It’s a distraction. Go work the case. Who’s taking over for you, and why wasn’t that person present tonight?”

“Chief Taylor, coming in from Nassau County. He’s been here part-time. He starts full time Monday, but he’s on his way down now.” His phone buzzes with a text. “I need to get back to the crime scene. There’s press gathering around the gate. I need to decide if I’m talking to them.”

“We need Elsa to come to us. We need her distracted from her next hit. And I need her and Ghost in one place to end them. Talk to the press.”

“You want in on it?”

“Nope. I don’t want Elsa to be intimidated by my badge. You get some men to watch the place. I’ll have Kane get them backup.” He nods and heads down the stairs, pausing at the bottom and glancing back at me. “You really want a party?”

“Like I want a hole in my head.” I turn and head for the door.

He calls after me, “Okay, a party it is.”

I roll my eyes and offer him my back, making my way to the door. I know him. He’s going to throw me a party, and I’m going to have to kick his ass. As for how to celebrate my birthday—really celebrate—I’ll kick back, relax with a lemon drop martini, and watch Andrew dig a grave. I just haven’t decided who will go in it yet. Maybe he should dig two or three to be safe.

Chapter Eighteen

My phone rings as I reach for the door to the house.

I always find people brave enough to actually call me interesting creatures destined to either earn my respect or wrath. Since I have God knows how many murders at this point to solve, I decide now’s a good time to reward their bravery. Caller ID shows an “unknown” number, which lends to a good chance this is either the president or Ghost. I’d prefer the latter, as ending Ghost means no more calls from the president.

At least, I sure as fuck hope it means that.

“Agent Mendez,” I answer, claiming Mendez over Love, considering my husband has apparently made my gangster status official.

“Special Agent Love-Mendez.”

“Mr. President,” I greet, because I can be respectful. I just don’t respect a whole lot of people. The leader of the free world gets it, though, at least until I find out he’s a bigger gangster than Kane.

“I assume we have a problem,” he prods.

“Have you talked to Director Ellis?”

“I have not. Should I have?”

“He’s radio silent,” I explain. “I assume this line is clear?”

“It is.”

It is oh so clear and yet not clear at all, and I press, “Is it recorded, or is anyone listening?”

“No to both.”

He sounds certain even if I am not. But he knows he has two dead directors. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume if he can run a country, he can find a private line to make a phone call. “We have a hit list that may match the members of a committee Ellis himself was on,” I state. “I believe the vice president was a member as well. I’d lock him down until I notify you otherwise.”

There are three silent beats, and then, “That’s disconcerting. Have we lost Ellis?”

“I don’t like to assume, Mr. President. Ellis gave me the committee list. He’s missing. I think we’re both intelligent enough to know that leaves a lot of room for assumption but no proof.”

“Whatdowe know?”

“Not enough, and when high-level officials are targets, I’m not comfortable saying more. I don’t want my target warned I’m on my way.”

“Then you have a target?”

“More than one.”

He’s silent another few beats. “You don’t trust Ellis.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t wait for an answer nor ask an explanation. “What about Adams?”

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