Page 9 of Only the Wicked
Excellent. I toss the phone onto the seat and head to Sydney, arm out for her. My car door’s open, but that’s fine. No one is going to hop out of the bushes and nab my phone.
When we arrive at her vehicle, a small-sized SUV, I tuck a strand of hair that escaped from her ponytail. The move is instinctive, but my breath catches, waiting for her reaction. A breeze picks up and I inhale a light floral scent. I’m so close her perfume mingles with the outdoors.
Her dark eyes flicker to mine, and she pushes higher, brushing her soft lips over mine. The unexpected touch rushes through me, from my mouth, down my spine, to my groin.
Her cheeks flush and I grasp her wrist, stopping her before she can pull away. I didn’t expect a kiss, but I’m not averse. No, she and I are on the same page.
“Go to dinner with me.”
The words come out before I fully process them. Maybe it’s the mountain air, or maybe it’s been too long since I met someone who doesn’t know my net worth before my name. Either way, I want to see her again.
Chapter
Three
Sydney
“I’m in.”
The winding road climbs higher up the peak through the trees, passing homes and mailboxes jutting out an arm’s length from the asphalt.
“Good work.” The deep male voice on the other end of the line belongs to the man who recruited me from the CIA. He introduced himself as Hudson, and I still don’t know for certain if that’s his first or last name.
Given recent events, I’d been an easy recruit. Four of my assets: dead. Top brass determined in all likelihood I had been exposed, and my career as an overseas operative ended. The fact a friend asked me to take a call from Hudson, the director of her newly formed entity, served as the linchpin.
KOAN, which stands for Kaleidoscope Observation Analysis Network, is officially an investigative entity. The kind of work the FBI should be doing but can’t—or won’t—when powerful people are involved. KOAN references a paradoxical question with no clear answer, the purpose to transcend logical reasoning and encourage intuitive insight. Caroline pitched it to me as “asking the questions that have no right answers but need to be asked anyway.” After watching my assets die because someone higher up the food chain decided their lives were expendable, that philosophy resonated.
“What’s your plan?” Hudson asks, his question confirming I’m taking lead.
“We’re going to dinner. I’m going to head back to the rental to meet with Quinn.” She’s the team’s tech and equipment resource. “Then to the hotel.”
When we acquired Rhodes MacMillan’s itinerary two days ago, I checked into his hotel. If the hiking interlude didn’t pan out, I would’ve tried again with an impromptu run in at the hotel.
“What’s your read? Do you need backup?”
“My read after initial contact is that the initial profile assessment is accurate. He doesn’t strike me as overtly dangerous. He had no security. Drove himself. Classic white collar.” It’s the deals he may be striking that are dangerous. But he’s too connected for any government agency to investigate. Rumors abound, and investigations were started, but halted by the DOJ. This is why my friend founded KOAN, an organization that conducts under the radar investigations—work that might be halted the moment they cross the desk of a vested influential power player.
“Touch base after you meet with Quinn.” The line goes dead.
Yes, sir.
In my rear, I clock an SUV two back. I make a quick right.
The two cars behind me pass.
Wait for it.
I whip back out onto the road.
The higher I go in altitude, automotive traffic declines.
I pass an older white male watering flowers with a water hose and wave. He doesn’t appear to notice.
Near the peak, I pull into a concrete parking area with a drive that loops down to the garage. From the street, the house appears to be a one-story wood and stone structure. But it’s deceptive. Built into the side of the cliff, the living areas are below street level, and the back of the house offers stunning views across a panoramic mountain scape.
I shift my Jeep into park and hop out onto a cracked paver, wincing when pain shoots up my right knee into my thigh. The injury, while minor, is real. Hudson, on this first assignment, is proving he trusts his recruits—and it’s a refreshing change from the micromanager I landed in the behavior and analysis division in the CIA.
After venting to Caroline, who also hated serving under the same prick and first fled the CIA to a privately held group on the West Coast, she shared her latest venture. With the encouragement of her husband, a billionaire with more than he can spend in his lifetime, she founded KOAN, because tackling corruption is something she’s passionate about.
