Page 70 of The Broker

The man Sawyer was describing didn’t exactly sound like Matteo. It kind of sounded like… Ares? But why would he be involved? Did Matteo call him asking for help? Isaac was confused and wondered what was going on.

Declan snorted. “Don’t be a fuckin’ bitch,” Declan shouted, shoving Sawyer out of his office. “Go the fuck home, and I’ll call you when those bitches pop.”

Isaac watched as the angry Haitian grabbed Sawyer by the arm and began tugging him down the hallway.

Shit. If Matteo really was on his way, then Isaac didn’t want the lawyer escaping. He had to think quickly.

“He’s going to rip you off!” Isaac shouted. It was the only thing he could think of that might get Sawyer to stay.

There was the sound of struggling before Sawyer’s beady little face appeared in the doorway once again.

“What?” he asked, eyes darting between Isaac and his brother.

“He’s going to rip you off. Once you leave, he’s going to deliver those babies, sell them, and then make off with the cash,” Isaac blurted. He was lying through his teeth, but this idiot didn’t know that.

Sawyer glared at Declan. “So, you think you can cut me out of my own deal? Fuck that shit! I’m staying here till those babies are born, and I get my cash!” The man’s face was red and angry.

It’s funny how the threat of losing one’s money can make a man forget all about the immediate danger of death and murder at the hands of someone so sinister that you refuse to use their own name.

Like Candyman and the mirror, you never speak his name.

“Suit yourself. Stay if you want to. Just keep out of my fucking way,” Declan barked back before shoving past the stout lawyer with a hard smash of his shoulder.

The greedy lawyer bounced off Declan’s massive shoulder before bracing himself against the wall.

A sigh of relief escaped Isaac’s lips. He had found a way to get Sawyer to stay. Now he just needed to figure out how he was going to escape these damn restraints.

25

JARED

Raising his wrist to his face, he glanced at his watch once again.

9:25 p.m.

Jared let out a huff as he glanced around the large hanger once more, wondering what the fuck they were waiting for.

They had arrived at a small airport just outside of Paris where the rich and uber-wealthy housed their planes when they weren’t jetting across the world, making all those around them envious.

They had loaded their bags onto the plane and been greeted by the small, well-trained crew that would be servicing them during their flight to the Netherlands—Amsterdam, to be precise.

That had been over twenty minutes ago.

Yet, here they were, pacing outside the plane, waiting for God knows what.

Finally losing his cool, he turned to Matteo, who was standing next to the staircase to his plane with his Prada sunglasses on, looking all GQ gorgeous.

“Okay, why the fuck are we still standing here?” Jared spat out. He would normally never talk to Matteo in such a harsh tone, but his nerves were on edge, and his patience had run out twenty minutes ago.

Matteo turned his head slightly, jaw tense and barely moving.

“We’re waiting for…him,” Matteo said. His words dripped with disdain.

Before he could ask who he was referring to, he was interrupted by the sound of four SUVs roaring into the hanger. Each parked on an angle, in perfect unison with one another. One would think they were filming a car commercial with the way each vehicle stopped on perfect display.

Jared and the rest of the gang watched as the backdoor of the middle SUV opened, and a dark-haired man dressed in a black pinstriped suit, complete with a red pocket square and a black vest over a white dress shirt, stepped out of the vehicle.

Without warning, the remaining doors opened, releasing several large men, all dressed in combat uniforms. Each of the men marched, forming two orderly lines just behind their leader in the expensive black suit.

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