Page 145 of Only the Wicked
But if there’s corruption at the highest levels, a trap like this is an ingenious way to expose it.
“Obviously, I can’t do it unless you’re on board. You and your team heard it all. Your call. You don’t want me to do it, I go back and tell him I slept on it and the answer is no.”
As much as I want to give the green light, it’s not my call to make. For all practical purposes, I’m a hired gun.
“Let me call Hudson.” I call but get voicemail. “It’s Sydney. Need to run something by you. Please call me back.”
Rhodes looks up from the laptop, fingers resting on the keys. “This is ready, but I won’t press go until you green light.”
“You’ve still got the silver disk and ear comm?”
In answer to my question, he points at a metal box with a lid.
“What’s your take on Dristol and Reid? Do you think they were listening in before they arrived?”
“Clearly.” His attention returns to his laptop. “You don’t have access to anything at Langley anymore, do you?”
“No. They’ve got a thorough lockout procedure. Why? What do you need?”
“Curious about Reid.”
My phone buzzes and I flip it over. It’s Jake. I swipe to answer.
“I’ll accept Venmo,” I answer, referencing our wager.
He barks out a laugh, but it fades quickly. “Smart ass. That’s not why I’m calling. Rhodes’ security pulled up outside the hotel. Headed inside hot and heavy.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Yep. I’m headed inside. Leaving the van. If something’s up, shout.”
I end the call, and Rhodes asks, “What’s up?”
Three hard knocks in rapid succession pound the door, then two more with increased force. Not the polite tap of hotel staff or the measured knock of expected visitors.
Rhodes and I exchange a glance. Without exchanging words, we position ourselves strategically—Rhodes angled toward the connecting door to the bedroom, me with clear sightlines to both the main door and the windows.
The knocking comes again, more insistent—someone who knows we’re inside and isn’t taking no for an answer. From the force and rhythm, whoever it is isn’t just impatient. They’re furious.
Rhodes’ outsourced security? Or someone else entirely?
Chapter
Forty
Rhodes
“Who is it?” Sydney asks, standing to the side of the door as if expecting bullets to fly through the wood.
This is insanity. We’re losing a grip on reality.
I step past her and sling the door open.
Mile’s fist comes within inches of my chest before his reaction time catches up to the reality of the open door.
“What the hell, man?” My business partner and friend pushes past me, charging into the room.
Behind him are two men, both fit and intimidating, in navy golf shirts, khakis, and matching sports jackets that do little to hide the bulge of their holstered weapons.
