Page 52 of Luke's Revenge (Walker Security - Lucifer's Trilogy 3)

“I get it,” he states. “You want to stop playing games. I do, too, and that’s exactly why you’re here. To get to the facts. No more digging for answers. No more hiding the truth. No more middlemen. We’re here, the three of us, just getting it all on the table. I’m the buyer. I’m also the seller. A man can’t live on football alone. I deal in fine collectibles and occasionally one crosses my path I want to make my own. This is one of those times. I want this prize for my personal collection. You already said you’d get it for me. You have one more day to deliver it to The Ranch, as promised.”

And there it is. His confirmation that he was the one chasing us, and his men killed Darius, Jake, and who knows who else. Kurt was right. Phillips is the king. “I need five days after you tell me what I’m looking for.”

He tilts his chair back and studies me for a good sixty seconds before he says, “The Natilda coin, worth a cool one million dollars if sold, but priceless to a collector such as myself.”

“Okay then,” I say, unaffected by the naming of a coin, that means nothing to me, outside a means to an end. “Let’s negotiate. We’ll find it. You forget us.”

“Agreed,” he says, leaning forward. “But I’ll need collateral.” He glances at Ana and then at me. “She’ll do.”

It’s an expected response, and one Ana addresses, meeting his stare as she says, “At least your wife won’t mind.”

His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“Well, she’s so into Savage, and all. Did you know that Savage is an assassin, and while Kurt would argue differently, I personally believe he rivals his skill. He’s also young and hot.” She eyes me. “You too, honey.”

“What she’s saying,” I add, “is that you might want to find out where your wife is right now.”

Irritation flits across his face and he snags his phone from his pocket, punching in a number. “Where is my wife?” he demands, listening before he says, “Find her.”

My phone buzzes with a text and I remove it from my pocket to find a message from Blake, a well-timed photo of Savage talking to Phillips’s wife. His wife is touching Savage’s arm and staring at him as if he’s a god. I set my phone on the desk. “He doesn’t need a weapon to kill her. And he’s not the only one with his skill set in the building right now. We can make this event get dirty fast. We’ll get you the coin, but we’re walking out of here alive and together.”

He snaps up my phone, studies the photo, and sets it down. “She doesn’t matter to me,” he states, but the set of his jaw says otherwise. “But get the fuck out. You have three days to get me what I want. No more. And just to be clear, Ana, I own the FBI. Try to cross me and the body count will pile up.”

I don’t reply. I don’t smirk, though it’s tempting. I don’t taunt to lion in his own den. Instead, I offer Ana my hand and stand, taking her with me. “Well, we better go, then,” I say, meeting his stare. “Before the body count adds up.” With that, I place Ana in front of me, walk toward the door, and make sure it’s me who gives Phillips and his bodyguard my back.

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