Page 46 of Braxton

No one said a word for the rest of the trip. Quinn watched as they left the city behind and drove into the French countryside. It was beautiful, but she was too uneasy to enjoy the view. Without her pistol, she felt on edge.

They pulled into a long driveway almost thirty minutes later. She paid close attention to her surroundings as they drove forward, past what looked like a small cemetery and then stopped in front of an enormous manor house. The behemoth stone structure looked straight out of the fifteenth century and was surrounded by several smaller outbuildings. The moss-covered rooftops and chipped, white shutters gave it an old world, rustic vibe. Woods surrounded the estate and it felt like she’d traveled back in time.

“Nice place,” she murmured.

“It’s quiet, and a perfect place to hide from the rest of the world,” Cross said. “Even though it’s old, I’ve installed a state-of-the-art lab for you, Dr. Zaitsev.”

“Thank you,” the scientist murmured, and Quinn wanted to punch him. The man seemingly felt no guilt over all the deadly Novichok he created. But she vowed he’d get his comeuppance, just like Cross and the rest of his minions would.

The idea that she’d almost fallen into his seductive offer made her sick to her stomach. She had no interest in wielding an obscene amount of power over others and joining The Agency. When he’d approached her and offered her an insane amount of money to eliminate Ex Nihilo, she’d accepted. Well, the Cardinalhad accepted. But she was done killing people for money. After helping Brax destroy The Agency, she was done with that life. It was time for the Cardinal to retire and for Quinn Graves to start living again.

And, more than anything, she wanted a life with Braxton.If he’ll have me, she thought.

The SUV came to a stop and Quinn climbed out, taking it all in. The estate was arranged around the courtyard, and the main building was composed of three levels made of various shades of limestone. It had a flat tile roof, octagonal chimneys and several turrets.

Cross led them through the large front door and into an imposing entry hall. They walked down a long hallway and stepped into a cozy-looking library with exposed beams above, several couches, floor to ceiling bookshelves and, most impressive of all, an etched monumental fireplace where flames crackled. She briefly studied the butterfly carved into the stone before turning her attention to the man sitting in a chair by the window.

Quinn instantly recognized Dr. Malcolm Grendel. Brax and the others had told her all about the skeletal psycho and his penchant for torture. Suffice it to say, no one had anything nice to say about the man, especially Saint, who’d been forced to endure, as he put it, “quality time with Skeletor and his torture devices.”

Grendel shifted piercing, light brown eyes her way and Quinn did her best not to shudder. “Ah, the Cardinal finally joins us.”

The other person in the room stood in front of the fire and Quinn looked over but couldn’t determine much about the individual who kept their face averted from her curious gaze. She—or he—wore a loosely-fitted, robe-like garment and headscarf. It reminded her of the clothing worn by certain cultures in the Middle East.

“Let’s get started,” Cross said, sitting down on the sofa. “The party is tomorrow and we have one chance to pull this off. To finally see justice served.”

Party? Justice?With a frown, Quinn walked over and sat in an ornate chair. The mysterious fire-gazer also joined them, lowering down beside Cross, and Quinn immediately noticed the person’s face was completely covered by a black veil. Although it was sheer enough to breathe through, the person’s features were completely hidden.

Whoever it was possessed a smaller stature than Cross and Grendel and also seemed to move with a certain grace seen more often in women than in men. Quinn’s gaze dropped, trying to see his or her hands, but they were hidden in long, flowing sleeves.

“Stop staring,” a female voice rasped from beneath the veil.

Cross tensed and pierced Quinn with a daggered look. “Don’t look at her,” he hissed. “Or I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

The tension in the room skyrocketed.

Quinn cleared her throat. “Sorry, I was just waiting for an introduction.”

“None is coming,” Cross stated coldly, “so let’s get back to the party plans.”

What in the hell is going on?Quinn wondered. She felt like she just stepped into an episode ofThe Addams Family. With a nod, she crossed her legs and did her best to look at ease. But she’d never been more uncomfortable in her entire life.

???

Braxton paced back and forth, waiting for Quinn to make contact. The team was hunkered down in a Parisian safehouse courtesy of Dash Slater. Outside the window, the Eiffel Tower once again began its twinkling light show where it sparkled for five minutes at the beginning of each hour. This was the third time the thousands of white lights danced, and Brax gritted his teeth.

It had been over three hours since they’d parted ways at the Louvre. Why the fuck hadn’t Quinn called yet?

“You’re going to wear a hole in the rug if you don’t stop pacing,” Inda said, swinging her nunchucks.

Brax abruptly halted and shoved a hand through his hair. “She should’ve made contact by now.”

“Give her time,” Zane said. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“She might be in trouble.”

“Nothing we can do until we have her location,” Saint stated.

“And when we do,” Ryland added, “let’s go blow some shit up.”

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