Page 48 of Ruthless Keeper
“Youalwayshave a choice, and I’m giving you one now.” I grip her chin, angling her head so she’s forced to hold eye contact. “Give me a shot, or you will only ever be a plaything. I don’t want that, Scarlett, and I don’t think you want that either. Give us achance, or you’ll make yourself into the eternal toy you’re terrified of becoming.” I release her chin and get out of the bed. I only have about an hour before my meeting, and I plan to spend that time at the gym, working off some of my irritation.
Chapter Eighteen
Greyson
“It was the Widowers.”
Cain doesn’t waste any time cutting straight to the point. Max and I are across the desk from him, and he has a series of reports laid out on the table in front of him—ballistics from the bombs used, and details about the plane that crashed. A plane crash that still needs to be cleaned up, as does the entirety of the compound. The bombs did a fair bit of damage—frankly, it’s a miracle we didn’t lose anyone.
“Is that your gut instinct, or is it confirmed?” Max questions. He’s sitting in the seat beside mine, one ankle braced on the opposite knee, his game face in place. I’m watching him from the corner of my eye, splitting my focus between paying attention to Cain and trying to determine whether Max is going to be an issue when it comes to my relationship with Scarlett.
My fear says yes; my gut and mind aren’t sure yet.
“Confirmed,” Cain replies. “Toby dug into it. If that isn’t enough, I received an encrypted email from Luther, which essentially warned me to back the fuck off of the Widowers or else.”
“This was a show of force,” Max murmurs, nodding slowly. “The intent wasn’t to run us out or exterminate us; this was the Widower’s way of slapping us on the wrist.”
“I don’t think that’s quite accurate,” I say, shaking my head. “No, they might want us tothinkthat this was a wrist-slap by their book, but it isn’t. They’re spread thin right now, prepping for the move to their new HQ. Their resources and manpower must be limited. They want to scare us off for the immediate future, so they can regroup and strengthen. Right now, they’re weak.” I think for a few beats, then nod. “We should plan a counterstrike in a week. Enough time for them to think we’ve been thoroughly cowed.”
“What kind of attack are you proposing?” Cain questions.
I tilt my head from side to side. “Eric’s got advanced bombs and weapon systems that’ll make the shit the Widowers dropped on us look nomadic.”
“We could launch missiles,” Max proposes.
“And invite every government in the world to take a nice, close look at our fortress?” I shake my head. “Absolutely fucking not. No, this’ll need to be covert. Were our jets destroyed in the bombings?”
Cain shakes his head. “Not all of them.”
“We could send out two, each equipped with a few bombs, and drop them on the Widowers,” Max suggests.
“That would work, but it’ll also send the surviving Widowers scattering. It’ll be tough to pin them down, and we’d need to wait until they are all settled at the new location in order to get them in one fell swoop,” Cain points out, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them.
“Do we have a list of their safehouse locations?” I ask.
Cain nods. “I can also double-check they’re up to date with Eric. He has people on the inside feeding him information. We have a call scheduled in…” he trails off the check the time. “Five minutes. Fuck, I lost track of time.” His brows furrow.
It’s completely unlike Cain to lose track of time, and I don’t think his mistake has anything to do with the chaos at the fortress. I think it has to do with the fact that he wasn’t able to attend to whateverbusiness in townhe had today, and I strongly suspect the aforementioned business had to do with the woman he was watching on his laptop. The woman he’s alluded to multiple times.
“Want us to sit in on the call?” Max asks.
“Silently,” Cain replies. “I’ll see if I can get the weapons we need from Eric and ask him for the most recent list of Widower safehouses. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks, gazing at me.
“We bomb all but one of the safehouses at the same time we bomb their headquarters. They’ll assume we just didn’t know about the safehouse we leave intact, so all operatives will move there. Then, we may actually be able to take all of them out before they move shop.”
“We’ll have to reassess once the time comes—there are too many variables to know for sure.” Cain’s phone starts ringing on the desk. He gives both Max and I warning looks, reminding us to be silent, then picks up the call.
Eric doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Any casualties?”
“No,” Cain says. “Our buildings are extremely well reinforced, and the bombs dropped were amateur. Possibly home-made. There were some injuries, but nothing more.”
“Luther’s getting nervous,” Eric says. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t bother with you. He hasn’t yet heard about our blooming alliance, but he knows you’re growing too powerful to manage. That’s a good thing. He’s sloppy when he’s scared.”
Max, Cain and I all exchange glances. Eric speaks about Luther with a strange familiarity, as if he knows the man personally. Which, he very well might. He has previously mentioned being massively fucked over by Luther…
“We’re going to need to place an order with you. Explosives strong enough to blow up the Widower’s HQ and kill as many of those fuckers as possible.”
“Luther will be waiting for it. He has excellent air defense systems… unlike you.”
