Page 44 of Daddy's Vengeance

Eighteen

Cole

At the buzz of the intercom, Adele rushed to press the button. After a short conversation in rushed French, she turned, bouncing on her toes. “Dinner is here! I will go and get it.”

“No, I’ll go.” Perhaps I was being overly paranoid, but something still felt off to me. A gut feeling I couldn’t quite shake that danger was just around the corner.

She rolled her eyes and gave me a look that made it clear she felt I was overreacting. “Don’t be silly. It is just downstairs.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I sent her a stern glare as I pulled it out to check the display. Mikey. “Little girl if you put one foot out of this apartment you won’t sit for a week.” Hitting the button, I turned away, trusting she would do as she was told. “Yeah?”

“We have a big fucking problem.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the furious growl. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember how I said Interpol has eyes on Giorgio?”

“Yes.”

“And remember how I said they have someone on the inside?”

“Yes,” I snapped, quickly losing patience. “Where is this going, Mikey?”

“I accessed Giorgio’s system to see if they had any info. And boy, do they. Sending you the file on an operative they identified who has been working for Giorgio for years. One Marie Dupont. Look familiar?”

Pulling my phone from my ear, I opened the text he’d sent. There, staring up at me from my screen, was Adele’s face. Without the playful smiles or the shy look in her eyes, but there was no doubt the serious-looking woman on my screen was the same one who had been warming my bed the past few days.

“I see,” I said, keeping my tone as even as possible despite the rage churning in my stomach. “That is a problem.”

“How are you so fucking calm—oh, shit. Is she there?”

“Yes.” Turning back to the door, I swore under my breath when I did not find her waiting patiently for me to escort her downstairs. “Adele!”

Silence.

“I swear to god, when I get my hands on her…” I let the threat trail off, since even I wasn’t sure if I meant to throttle her or put her over my knee.

“That’s not the worst of it, boss.”

“What could possibly be worse than the fact that I’ve been fucking an undercover Interpol agent without knowing it?”

“Maybe the fact that she’s not the only agent in Giorgio’s house. Only this guy’s on his payroll.”

Another photo came through, a man I didn’t recognize. Or did I? There was something oddly familiar about him.

A memory surfaced, putting the face into context, and I snarled into the phone. “Motherfucker!”

“What? You recognize him?”

“Yeah. Adele said he was a buddy of her ex-boyfriend.” Which, I suddenly realized, was obviously a bullshit story on top of the rest of her bullshit.

If I didn’t kill her, she wasn’t going to sit comfortably for the rest of our lives.

“Can you get me a location on her? She slipped out and I have a feeling she’s going to meet this—what’s his name?”

“Pierce. Gregory Pierce.”

Adele

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