Page 47 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

I ended the call and turned my attention back to the tracking screen. A nagging sense of unease lingered and would never leave me until Kai was here next to me. He was out there, and it was up to me to have his back. I just wished I could do more than sit on my ass and watch dots on a screen.

EIGHTEEN

Kai

Terminator shut me in a suffocatingly small room with bare walls and a single flickering light overhead casting eerie shadows across the floor. I was in a cold chair handcuffed to a metal table, my gaze fixed on the door as I awaited Indigo. I had to forget being Kai and channel the alter ego I was running on this op, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be on edge sitting in here. They’d taken my watch and phone—I’d expected that, and they smashed them, and then my gun was taken from me. Again, expected. I hoped to hell I got my baby back—I loved that gun in a non-romantic, it-saved-my-life kind of way.

When Indigo entered, flanked by two guards, neither of which was Terminator, I kept my expression to that of a pissed-off criminal who hated being locked up. I couldn’t help but take stock of their weaponry—the guns strapped to their chests, the bulge of an ankle holster, the telltale signs of concealed knives. They were decked out to hurt, and I figured they were ex-special forces from the way they stayed silent and still. There was no posturing, just a lethal presence that made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

I respected their potential skills, which meant I knew how to take them down if needed.

Indigo herself was a force to be reckoned with, her presence commanding attention as she took the chair opposite mine. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, her expression unreadable as she studied me with sharp eyes.

I couldn’t resist a jibe, despite the gravity of the situation. “Room service is shit,” I remarked, my tone dripping with sarcasm as I met Indigo’s narrow-eyed stare head-on.

She watched me in silence for a moment before speaking. “Kevin David Raynes, aka KD,” she said, her voice cool and composed. “Parents deceased, no siblings.”

I raised an eyebrow, allowing a flicker of surprise to cross my features—I knew my cover was solid, no mention of me as Kai, it was all KD Raynes. “Yeah, that’s me,” I admitted with a shrug. “A loner, through and through.”

Indigo leaned back in her chair, studying me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “Dishonorable discharge from 427 Squadron,” she continued her voice like ice. “One stint in military jail.”

“Haven’t we done this already when I hit town looking for you? Y’know, the day you had your goons tie me to a chair and beat the shit out of me?” That had been a bad introduction to Kozlov’s second, but I’d stayed conscious and had earned my way into their trust.

Twisted, awful trust. Zach had cleaned me up, silent and watchful, but I’d gotten the introduction, and it had only taken four days for the bruising to subside. At least they hadn’t killed me—I called that a win, but Zach was too far gone into being angry with me to respond with a smile to my joke.

Turned out he didn’t want me to get beaten up.

“Fond memories,” Indigo said with a smile. “You bled so prettily.”

I clenched my jaw, letting the memories of supposed past transgressions flood back, my expression showing painful clarity. Let’s hope the backstory stuck, however much I hated it.

“Of course I did,” I said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Indigo regarded me with a mixture of humor and curiosity, her stare piercing. I wondered whether she would be the one who saw through the facade Shadow Team had constructed. “You stayed in town, though?” she asked, her tone deceptively soft.

I met her focus unflinchingly, refusing to back down in the face of her scrutiny. “I need the money. I stayed, and now you need a pilot,” I said, my voice steady.

My HK was out of reach, nearer her than me. I could go for it, take her out, or one guard, but that wasn’t the point of this, and I held myself still.

“Nice gun, but not as nice as this,” she murmured, her hand blurred into motion, producing a gleaming knife she twisted between her fingers.

With a flick of her wrist, she let the knife fly, the sharp whistle of its passage cutting through the air like a razor’s edge. It embedded itself in the wall behind me, the force of its impact a low thud.

For a moment, I froze, my mind racing to catch up with the reality of what had happened. Indigo’s display of skill showed me what she could do, and I had a begrudging respect for her prowess with the blade. We knew going in that she was a formidable opponent, left a trail of bodies, and wasn’t one to be underestimated.

I met Indigo’s gaze head-on, my expression a mask of determination. “Nice throw,” I said, my voice betraying none of the unease that churned within me. “But I’ll stick with my HK, if you don’t mind.”

Indigo’s lips curved into a smirk, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Suit yourself,” she replied, her tone tinged with a hint of mockery. “Just remember, knives never run out of bullets.”

“But you only get one chance with a knife,” I murmured.

She retrieved her blade from the wall, and in the next moment, it was caressing my throat, then harder, so I was sure there would be blood.

Stay still.

For a moment, there was silence, but then she moved the blade and twirled it once more before sliding it into the sheath at her waist.

“Let him go.”

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