Page 165 of The Wild Charge

Muttering and cursing under his breath, Maddox turned and went down the sidewalk, and around the corner.

Mercy adjusted his grip on the blackjack he carried. “Odds he’ll chicken out?”

“High,” Walsh said, to his left.

“You don’t wanna give me a number, Money Man?”

“Nah.”

Mercy could feel the tension in the subtle way Walsh shifted his weight. In the faint, occasional flash as he spun his many rings on his fingers. Mercy wanted to gut people over the Reese news, and Walsh did, too – he just didn’t let it show as readily.God, Tenny, was the thing he’d said when Mercy relayed the news, andGod, whatwasTenny doing right now? Was Fox going to be able to contain him?

The sooner they did this the better.

After a few minutes, Maddox’s voice floated toward them down the sidewalk, too loud on purpose, alerting them. “…parked over here.”

“Why couldn’t we do this in my room?” That was Jansen.

Maddox huffed an impatient sound. “It’s like I already said: I can’t risk this getting picked up by any taps.”

“My room’s not tapped.”

“Pffft. There’s ears on you all the time, and you know it.”

No argument came on that front.

The footsteps moved closer, Maddox’s boots and what sounded like loafers Jansen had shoved on in a hurry.

“I shouldn’t be talking to you,” Jansen grumbled. They were getting closer. Mercy could hear their breathing. “You left in disgrace. Everyone at the Bureau knows about you: the stupid fucker who believed the MC and betrayed his badge for them.”

“Hm. Lucky me.”

Mercy didn’t turn his head as they passed; held his breath. Waiting, waiting…

When Jansen was three steps past, he pivoted out onto the sidewalk, and brought the blackjack hard against Jansen’s temple before he could cry out in surprise. He fell like a full sack, cracking his cheekbone open on the curb.

Maddox hadn’t even tried to catch him. He looked down at the man, swallowing audibly, like he might be sick.

“Well,” Mercy said cheerfully, bending to bind Jansen’s hands and feet. “That’s outta the way. Now it’s time for the fun part.”

~*~

A meeting convened in the sitting room of the main suite.

“The boy from the gallery,” Toly said, while he cleaned his knives, “is –was– Brandon Phillips. His father is on Wall Street. He’s the one, if you believe the boy, who talked him into reporting on Cassandra.” He finished polishing a wicked length of boning knife and sheathed it up his sleeve.

“Where is he?” Fox asked.

Maverick said, “We’ll handle it.”

“Fine. Ghost says he’s getting rid of the feds in Knoxville, and they’ll see what else they can get out of Jansen before they’re done with him. You,” Fox said, pointing at Ian, “or, well, Tenny as you, got invited to a party at Waverly’s tomorrow night. It’s a chance to get us all in the main door without worrying about alarms or cameras, if you’re up to it.”

Ian nodded. “Of course.”

“Right. Then Tenny, Dad, Abe and me will be the strike team. Evan’s already inside, and I think I talked him off the ledge, he’ll…”

Ian knew the plan was important – critical, even – but Alec was paying attention, nodding along, even taking notes…and Ian’s attention was fixed elsewhere.

Tenny stood outside the circle they’d formed in the suite’s sitting room, arms folded, face devoid of all expression. His stare was fixed somewhere in the middle distance and his mind was far afield, Ian thought.

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