Page 128 of Secret Mission

Yes, she did. I want to be impressed, but truthfully, I’m too jacked.

Concern growing by the second, I follow her into a bedroom suite where she goes straight for the bathroom.

“I’ll check the trash,” I offer, but quickly report, “The can is spotless, nothing here.”

She pulls open a couple of drawers and stops at the bottom one. “Yes! Look at this.”

There's a small toothbrush with a travel cap on it lying next to a pack of dental floss.

Leaning closer, she smiles. “This brush looks like it’s been used.”

“That’s gold.” I help her deposit it into the bag using a tissue and tuck it into my cargo pocket. “Time to move.”

“We’ll go out the back,” she whispers as she pulls me along a plushly carpeted hallway past closed doors.

Taking a different set of stairs down to the first floor, we hustle past another office and a study packed with books.

I’ve never liked formal houses, and this one ranks at the top.

An exterior exit sits at the end of the corridor, the murky gray clouds visible through the window in the heavy wooden panel.

“Whoa, there.” I grab her arm as we step onto the landing.

Fear—a feeling that is regularly associated with protecting Allison—tightens the muscles along my spine. “That storm is barreling in. It’s not safe out here. Where are you trying to go?”

She flashes me a determined look. “The docks. We just have to go down the stairs over there. It’s not far.”

Rubbing my neck, I fight the tension that’s threatening to cut off the blood supply to my brain. “Fuck, I don’t like this.”

“We didn’t come this far to stop. I think he’s getting his yacht loaded to go somewhere important. One of his men probably put the files onboard while he was gone.”

Staring across the yard, I take stock of the options.

None.

Fuck. I hate this.

Tapping my communications link on my ring, I cue up the system. “This is Truck, Goldilocks and I are moving to location Two in the marina. Over.”

“This is Beast. Copy that. Be advised, the radar is looking bad. Over.”

“This is Truck. Copy that. We’ve got visual. Going for quick inspection of secondary file storage location on suspect’s personal vessel. Over.”

A second later, another voice joins. “This is JT. I’m giving the guards a run for their money. Proceed with mission. Over.”

“This is Truck. Do we have an extraction plan, yet? Over.” Because the fact that we don’t have a solid strategy is eating my insides like acid.

Flying the chopper out of here now is out of the question.

“This is Beast. Roger. We have a vehicle enroute. Over.”

I drop my head back and thank god. “This is Truck. Copy. We’re mobilizing. Over.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The storm is growing. The thunderheads are rolling, billowing further and further upward, making mountains above us.

I push forward, the wind slapping my coat against the body armor underneath.

---