Page 148 of Scarlet Angel

“Is that it? We go into hiding?”

He half chuckles. “Do I look like the hiding type? No. We duck out and regroup. Study. The syndicate fractured. To be expected with any self-serving, fluid group. I need to figure out who’s behind this madness.”

“And then?”

“We stop them.”

“I like that plan.”

“Good. After we’ve knocked that out, you and I are going to ride off into the sunset and shag like bunnies.”

“I love you, you know?”

“Oh, that’s been sorted for some time now.”

“Has it?” I’m grinning. This man, he’s always making me smile.

“Oh, yes. You’re my angel. Seems I can’t shake you.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

“Thank the gods.”

EPILOGUE

NICK

The Next Day

Scarlet circles the Christmas tree, fingering ornaments as she inspects the noble fir. I relax into the sofa, content to observe my angel.

Outside, the wind howls with an incoming storm. Inside the cozy cottage, the fire crackles. With each passing second, I slip deeper into relaxation.

Jack Sullivan and his partner, a man named Ryan Wolfgang, argued against lying low in Greece. They said that given I’d done extensive construction work on a sizeable home on a small island, the owner would be known, discreet paperwork be damned. In truth, they’re probably right. Besides, I had to bribe a few in the Greek mafia to get it built, so right there sits a weak link.

It worked as a hideaway when I didn’t have experts searching for me.

There’s also the likelihood the Greek mafia won’t take kindly to hosting a witness for the upcoming drug trafficking trial. While the Greeks and Italians aren’t besties, there’s a code of honor amongst thieves, and turning a brethren in violates said code.

Drago insisted we stay at one of his remote homes. Claims the estate is difficult to get to and so remote that while someone might see a helicopter traveling over the islands, they won’t care who’s in it, and the locals, of which there are few, will assume it’s Drago. The flight manifest doesn’t list our names. And he swears the staff he has on-site will see to our every need.

I’m not fond of leaving Lina behind, but I’m assured she’s in good hands. And this little respite is temporary, a moment to regroup.

I said I trusted Drago, and we’ll find out if that trust is warranted. If I’m right, it’s a good job. I’ll have insight into the frayed syndicate while I sort this mess.

Ash survived the bombing, but he nearly lost an arm. Miraculously, no one lost their lives. The authorities are combing the estate under my team’s oversight.

Drago and his staff are helping to control the narrative. At the moment, all is hush-hush, and in theory, my enemies don’t know if I’m dead or alive.

We couldn’t trace the message from the so-called Prophet. I’d bet my last pound it’s Halston. Dorian may or may not be aware. At this point, coming at me is a game for the demented prick. Drago isn’t convinced the Moores are the culprits, but he agrees it’s a conceivable scenario. He’s convinced it’s Russia. Maybe Putin himself.

Drago’s place in the Shetland Islands is one that he keeps under a trust. It’s difficult to get to and hours from any urban center. If all goes as planned, we’ll spend the holiday here and return to my London flat in the new year.

Our allies are much more concerned with the disparate attacks and this idea that it’s all testing for a much larger, coordinated attack. According to Jack Sullivan, the world’s intelligence agencies are convening, working around the clock. We’ll work together.

The European authorities want to find this Prophet as much as I do, given the use of militarized drones has the public up in arms.

I’ve agreed to use my resources and contacts to stunt any coordinated attack and to determine who’s guilty. No one wants to blame the wrong party, especially a country, and bring us into war. Right now, we need more intel.

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