Page 88 of Retribution
The room has erupted into whispers and hushed conversations after Dutch’s grand entrance, but they quickly quiet down when she clears her throat. “So, while you were all here stuffing your faces—and you better have saved me a plate, you greedy assholes—I was meeting with a contact. I know some of you are wanting these fuckers to suffer,” she sends a pointed look in Tessa’s direction, “and I’m down for that. The problem is numbers, right?”
Several people nod, agreeing with that. One of the men speaks up, “I’ve got four kids. If one of those sick fucks got their hands on them … ” he trails off as his face hardens. “They should endure the same level of terror and pain their victims are forced to suffer.”
Murmurs of agreement sound out and Dutch stands, her teeth flashing in a sinister smile. She utters two little words and the room erupts in shouts of agreement and wicked laughter.
“Chloramine gas.”
Chapter 49
Ryan Grant
Charles de Gaulle Airport
Paris
Running my hand through my grey-strewn dark hair, I let out a deep sigh as the announcement comes over the PA system, the woman’s robotic voice stating that our flight to London Heathrow has been delayed for forty-five minutes.
We’ve been in Paris for a few weeks now, hunting down a black widow by the name of Marjorie Gagneux. I’m the head of the Charon Group, and alongside my friends and colleagues, Jase Adams and Kian Fraser, we’re the ones you call when you want someone dead. We’re also the ones you call in a hostage or kidnapping situation—we’re flexible like that.
We’ve met the Bannerman brothers a few times over the years, occasionally swapping jobs and crossing paths as those of us do in our line of work. I don’t trust easily, preferring to keep it between my men and I, but I respect their dedication and commitment. So, when they passed on the black widow case to us, we were happy to take it.
Now, they want us to team up with them in London, to help take down a vicious human trafficking ring. We’ve come across branches of it in the past, wishing we could do something about it but not having the manpower. Nate Bannerman has had the right idea, coming up with his own mini army.
Combining forces with The Duke, us, whoever the fuck this Unseen fellow is, plus an FBI agent? Even though we still don’t have the numbers, we do have the brains and specialist knowledge that should see us successful.
Kian’s blonde head lands on my shoulder as a gentle snore slips from him. The baby of the group at twenty-seven, he covers his insecurities about his past with ribald humor and dirty jokes. He specializes in anything that goes boom—and can be a crazy motherfucker when it comes to his safety.
Sitting beside him, Jase taps away on his laptop. A handsome black man in his early thirties, he didn’t have the best start to life. Cold and hungry, a few stints living on the streets, his childhood was a bleak one. But hidden beneath those dirty, moth-eaten clothes shone a brilliant mind I rarely come across, and I scooped him up off the streets, providing him an education and a place to live.
The only thing I asked of him was to learn—and now we all reap the benefits of his incredible mind. Our finance guy and hacker, he’s tripled our investments and made it so that we’d never need to work again if we didn’t want to.
The PA system interrupts my musing, calling our flight to board.Finally.Jase kicks Kian awake, who yawns and stretches, catching the eye of several women who can’t resist his boyish good looks, bright blue eyes, and tattoos. Throwing them a lazy grin, he throws his arm around Jase’s shoulders and crushes his mouth to his, making me chuckle.
There’s never a dull moment.
Chapter 50
Special Agent
Daniella “Dutch” Buchanan
Holy fuck.
HO. LEE. FUCK.
Three gorgeous men stand in the entranceway, shaking hands and slapping backs with the Bannermans as I hang back, eyes devouring the delicious specimens laid out before me.
I’m pretty sure my vagina has just detached itself from my body and is now running across the hall, waving her little horny arms, hoping to shake hands with one or more of their dicks.
Down, girl.
It’s like a buffet of delights—there’s Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, giving off some serious Daddy vibes. I’d let him spank me.
My hungry eyes turn to the next—Mr. Baby Blues. His head tilts back with laughter at something Eric says, and I picture myself licking up the length of his neck. Tattoos peek out of his sleeve, and I ache to discover the meaning behind each one.
Last, but certainly by no means least—Mr. Suave. His suit fits him to a T, his crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows, showcasing his powerful arms. His dark chocolate eyes are the first to see me standing back in the shadows, and they fill with heat as they roam over my body.
I wonder if I packed extra batteries. I’m pretty sure I’m going to need them.
