Page 128 of Contract of a Billionaire
I closed my eyes. Smiling faces of Alessio and Kol flashed in my mind. The hot Afghan air kissed my skin. Men and women speaking unfamiliar tongues drifted through the air. Cries. Gunfire. Warnings. Somewhere in the distance, a familiar ritual melody rolled through the air.
A prayer.
Taking a deep breath, I let the soothing words I couldn’t understand fill my lungs. It was calming, regardless of the type of prayer it was. And I didn’t give a shit which religion it was, but I took it as a good sign.
Any prayer was welcomed, because I firmly believed not a single religion on Earth would wish for anyone’s death.
Humans were the ones that caused hurt and killed.
And as if whoever was listening to my thoughts up above wanted to prove a point, a round of gunfire blazed through the air.
A hard body slammed into mine. My eyes shot open. The world moved too quickly. All I could see was a silver gray beard as a masculine scent flooded my lungs.
And the dumbest thought lingered.
At least I’d die with a nice smelling guy on top of me.
Chapter42
Alessio
The elevator door parted, stopping at the top floor of the hotel.
The door to the large ballroom opened up, revealing a room full of politicians and people who believed in them. Or more likely, people who could benefit from them.
These events were full of fake smiles and handshakes.
The entire room was wide open. One side of the room held a glass sliding door that led to the rooftop deck. The glass doors were closed, the early December temperatures too bitter cold to mingle outside.
A waiter immediately approached me with a tray full of drinks. I had no intention of drinking tonight, but I grabbed a glass filled with brownish hued liquid.
I scanned the crowd, looking for my target. Senator Ashford.
It took me a bit to spot him. With some blonde bimbo who looked younger than his daughter. Once a player, always a goddamn player.
Three weeks and three days.
The world had gone quiet on the situation in Afghanistan. I’d been getting bits and pieces of information on a group hiding in the mountains. Noshaq mountain scaled the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan.
I found my way to Pakistan. I searched the mountains covered in snow. But each time I tried to get into Afghanistan, I ran into a roadblock.
Byron went through all his resources and friends from his military days. It seemed the entire world was cut off from entering the country.
“Alessio,” Byron greeted me.
“Byron.”
“Anything?” He’d been helping. Trying to, anyhow. But we kept running into dead ends.
“Nothing new,” I gritted, my eyes on Senator Ashford who was laughing, carefree, most likely drinking his cognac. “Just rumors about mercenaries that got stuck in the country and are hiding in the mountains. They say there are foreign women with them.”
Except there were absolutely no details on the women. Nor the mercenaries. Who were they working for?
I watched my father take a cigar out of his pocket and someone was already shoving their hand to light it up. Apparently, the no smoking rule didn’t apply to the bastard. He inhaled, then released, creating a whirlwind of smoke around him.
“Has he said anything?” I asked Byron, who was watching his father.
“No, just that if you want to know, you’ll come directly to him.”
