Page 103 of Unbound

He nodded and put his phone to his ear.

I got up and did my blazer up. “All right, gentlemen. I’ll see you later this evening or first thing tomorrow and get you an update then.”

“How are you traveling?” Joseph asked.

“I was gonna get a cab to town and arrange to rent a car,” I replied.

“You want to borrow one? We have a dozen here for members. Want a driver or your own car?”

Fuck. Shit. I didn’t need a Kruna employee with me for this.

“Sure,” I said. “My own is good.”

Fuck.

They offered us buy-in for him of just $20million. They told me that it was a fraction of what they usually wanted, but they wanted a Ferrano in that other spot.

They’d heard about Tommy’s knack for getting things done and wanted him in. He and I as part of their inner circle? They were sure it’d mean big things for their personal interests as well as for Kruna. These men wanted to associate with likeminded people and they liked Tommy and my list of connections.

“With both of Tom Ferrano’s sons? We’ll be laughing,” Delgado had said, pouring glasses of top shelf bourbon, passing out $50 cigars.

I hated this fucking guy. I hated them all. I had a quick drink and told them I was heading out. They asked no further questions. Somehow, they thought I was just like them and seemed absolutely unsuspicious of me. I had to keep it that way until they were destroyed.

She had her purse with our passports in them, plus an overnight bag that had all her wired bras and bathing suits in them, just in case anyone nosed around in our room.

I dumped the car a few blocks away from the rendezvous point, in case there was a GPS. We hadn’t talked personal, at all, on the ride in case the car was bugged. Like a perfect angel, she didn’t ask me questions, just let me lead the way.

When we parked at a restaurant a few blocks from where we were to meet Zack, we took a walk along the beach, where I filled her in, and then slipped back into traffic on foot, texting Zack with our location.

It wasn’t long before Hal pulled in and we got into his car. He drove us to a strip plaza where we climbed the stairs beside a tea shop to find ourselves in a small second floor office filled with mostly white middle-aged suited guys. A couple of them were taping up boxes. This was their task force’s headquarters. What the fuck?

Zack approached and shook my hand and then gave Angel’s shoulder a squeeze.

“This way,” he said, and ushered us into a small board room.

Randall was sitting there with three other guys. They were all in wrinkled suits and looking like they hadn’t slept in three days.

“Fuckin’ great job, you two,” Randall greeted with an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen from him before.

“Uh, what’s up?” The vibe in the room was weird.

“Well… Sylvia Frost is dead.”

“I heard.”

“We know. We heard you hearing that. Though we already knew. We, uh… listen, things have changed. I just got orders. Your help was invaluable. All this information is being kept securely, you have no worries about that, but the task force is being dismantled and the investigation is being put on hold.”

“On hold?” Angel squeaked.

“Indefinitely,” Randall said and his face was red.

There was major shit going on here. He had a shitty poker face and I knew he wasn’t happy about this.

“What the fuck?” I asked.

“My boss, Barry Dresden, he sent the orders down about ten minutes after Frost’s death hit the news.” Randall slammed his laptop shut.

My eyes moved to Zack. Zack was standing there, his arms folded across his chest, his face like stone.

---