Page 130 of Scarlet Angel

“Are any on us?”

“Not that we know of, but it’s only the amateurs we’ll clock.”

Right.

Up ahead, there’s a Mercedes van. Glossy black exterior with black tinted windows. A door opens and Scarlet steps up first.

What the bloody hell is she thinking?

I push past her, but it’s safe. It’s a fucking control station. Screens, computers, seats. In the back, it looks like a small sofa bed.

“Welcome aboard,” a woman dressed in black says. “I’m Sophia. Up there, behind the wheel, is Fisher.”

The totes hit the floor of the van with a thud.

“There’s ammunition in there,” I say.Who the bloody hell tosses a gun bag around?

The driver says something to the man outside and the door slams shut.

“Sit down. Once we’re a block away, we’ll connect and plan.”

“Who do you work for?” I ask as the van’s headlights flick on.

“Sit,” Sophia says. “We’re doing a favor for Arrow.” Her gaze locks on Scarlet, and she extends her hand like she’s at a networking event. “You’re Scarlet, right?”

“Yes.”

“What’s Arrow?” Scarlet asks, looking as wary as I feel.

“It’s a group that takes on projects governments won’t touch.” Sophia sits in a chair that’s bolted onto the floor in front of a computer terminal. The tinted windows dim the passing streetlights. The driver appears to be having a conversation.

The man’s either off his rocker or he’s got an earpiece. He’s got a rough, full beard and an American accent.

I’d guessed Leo was CIA. Who are these bastards? The private group Tristan referenced?

“Might as well sit. Our plan is to drive south,” Sophia says.

“South?”

“From the channel, we’ll get you out via ship or air. You can sit back. The vehicle’s bulletproof. You’re safe. For now.”

She taps on some keys, and a screen comes to life.

“You doing a bloody Zoom call?” We’d had a shit ton of folks on the call earlier.

“No. I’m pulling up a few forums to track things. We’ll loop back with the team in a minute once I get us up and running. We’ve got an escape plan to hatch, right?” She smiles with the nonchalance of a woman who does this shit for a living.

Scarlet sits as far away from me as she can in the vehicle. She doesn’t want to be here, but she, like me, has no choice.

There’s a sliding door in front of the sofa bed in the back. “Do you mind… Can we have a minute?” I ask.

“If you pull that door closed, we won’t hear you.”

I don’t buy for a second that anything we say won’t be listened to, but at least we’ll have the semblance of privacy. If Scarlet will let me explain.

She pushes past the narrow center alley.

That’s good. Maybe with all the stress of getting shot at and such, she’ll overlook the bit about Leo being alive.

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