Page 78 of Wrecked

Rip had heard the stories of Azrael and of how the guy had killed his tormentor with a corkscrew and he wondered what the hell Real had been thinking by letting this one get away.

If anything, Azrael should be at the ranch improving on skills that were already excellent.

Rip made a mental note to talk to Azrael on the drive back to Dave’s place.

“Lincoln is dead,” Rip pressed his earpiece.

“Let’s move,” Stone’s voice came through the comms. “I’ll call the cleaners.”

Rip tucked Boston into the SUV and stepped back for Azrael to climb inside.

Only Azrael wasn’t with them. Rip shot a glance around the area, but the young assassin was gone.

As if he’d never been there.

Within eight hours after James Lincoln’s death, Dave deployed Phoenix to Russia. He hoped that they could eliminate a big portion of drug and human trafficking here in the US. And even if it were temporary, it would still be a very big win.

Phoenix hit the ground running with one objective.

To take out the head of the snake.

And that was exactly what Ghost, Frost, Fear, Lash, and Wild did when they gained entry to the home of criminal crime boss Slavic Balagula.

The hit was done quickly and quietly.

And when Phoenix made their exit, it was as if nobody had ever been there.

The next day’s news claimed that Balagula had died in his sleep.

Real went ballistic when Dave video called him and told him that Azrael had been involved in what went down at James Lincoln’s house.

He should have known the kid couldn’t stay the hell away from the op.

“What the hell happened?” Real asked Dave.

Dave sighed and shook his head. “You know he has a bad habit of reading in here.” Dave waved a hand around the study he was sitting in.

“Damn it. I thought Savage was keeping him busy with training and light jobs.”

Dave gave him a look. “Are you kidding? Azrael hasn’t ever done light jobs.”

Real felt like he’d gotten punched in the gut. “He lied to me.”

“It appears so.”

“Where is he? He’s not picking up his phone.”

Dave took a deep breath and the former SecDef’s next words shot a cold fear into him.

“He packed and moved out.”

“Where?”

“He didn’t leave an address.”

“Well, are you going to get him back?” Real demanded, rubbing at his chest.

“He’s nineteen and he is still working for Erebus, so there’s really no reason he can’t live on his own,” Dave said.

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