Page 114 of Fractured Future
“Yeah…” He sighs in clear fatigue. “It was rough, Ax. She’s trying so hard not to be scared, but I can see it written all over her face.”
“Gael will never get past us. She’s safe.”
“We’ve gotten comfortable before. That’s what gets people killed.” An unspoken guilt fuels his words. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“You know we will all protect her.”
“I know. Listen, I have to make a call. Check in when they’re out.”
“Copy that.”
With his voice falling silent, I feel a sense of relief. I never worked in a team during my counterintelligence job. Instead, I surveilled espionage suspects, stalked foreign diplomats and collected evidence in peace.
Joining Sabre was a shock to the system. All of a sudden, I had to learn how to be a team player rather than a solo agent tailing suspects on government watchlists or relaying intelligence to military commanders.
“Bingo.” I watch the warehouse doors fling open. “At last.”
I’m already dreaming of a salt beef bagel from Mary’s and an ice-cold beer. Sitting in the same position for two hours and obsessing about what Ember’s doing right now is not my idea of a fun time.
Three people shuffle outside, all dressed in dark clothing and making a hasty exit. The human skin trade is indiscriminate, so I’m not surprised to see a female face among them.
But at the sight of the bobbing black head leaving the abandoned building with his two bodyguards, my blood runs cold. Icy spikes tear into my flesh, filling me with violent desire.
“You’re kidding me,” I mutter.
Blaine Madden may have been before my time, but I’ve been briefed on the prolific mobster and all his immoral deeds. Assassinations. Underground drug factories. Gang wars. His family rained hell on the capital.
So when I see the cocky son of a bitch swaggering outside like he belongs with the other bought and paid for assholes, my shock is startling. The two-faced piece of shit must work for Gael.
Lifting the camera from my backpack, I bring the shot into focus then snap a few pictures of Blaine leaving with his thugs. They disappear behind the warehouse, leaving me to capture the others leaving behind him.
As much as I’m twitching with the urge to chase after Madden and plant a bullet between his eyes, I know we need his intel. He succeeded where we failed and rescued Ember from the cartel.
Is this how?
Tapping my earpiece, I patiently wait for Warner to return. “Come in, boss.”
“What?” His voice is muffled.
“Meeting’s over. Got something for you.”
“Anyone we recognise?”
My laugh is short and caustic. “You could say that.”
“Meet us at HQ. Ember’s still in for her evals.”
“Affirmative.”
It takes a matter of minutes to dismantle and pack my sniper. I slide the compact case into my backpack then sling it over my shoulder, ensuring the camera is safely secured in the front pocket.
The walk back to my motorcycle takes twenty minutes. I had to park far enough away to avoid arousing suspicion. With my backpack secured tight, I nestle my head inside the helmet then take off.
Fuck, I missed this thrill.
Leaving my beloved 1978 Harley Davidson behind when we were sent to Mexico broke my heart. I did the whole rebuild myself, including the fresh red paint job. It’s a slice of history, restored to its former glory.
The roads are bustling with evening traffic, but with my thighs wrapped around the purring beast, I can easily weave past dawdling motorists. Nothing compares to the feeling of total freedom that riding provides.
