Page 8 of Braxton

“That leaves Grendel. Mia calls him The Surgeon, and now I know why—he had a lot of torture devices. Fucker electrocuted me.” Saint absently touched his chest where Brax knew the electrodes had been. The red marks were burned in his memory as clearly as they’d been burned on Saint’s skin.

“I saw that table,” Inda murmured with a shiver, referring to the array of terrible instruments Grendel had threatened Saint with when he’d been captured and held in a Russian bunker.

“It wasn’t pretty, Bruja.” Saint clenched his fists. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

“That’s what we do.”

Yeah, it’s definitely what they’d been doing. The danger was at an all-time high, at its peak, and Braxton knew the end was coming.

“I want locations on Mesa, Cross and Grendel. Then we launch a combined, simultaneous strike to take them out.”

“Working on it, boss,” Zane said, typing away.

Even though he didn’t verbally add Quinn’s name to the list, Brax knew she was on it. The thought made him sick. But if she was trying to kill him and his team, then what choice did he have?

They’d have to take her out. And he’d be the one to do it.

Chapter Four

Quinn sat down at the small table, propped her booted feet on the chair across from her and opened her laptop. She clicked on the link that would take her to a private chat deep on the Dark Web. With a surprisingly heavy heart, she waited for the meeting to begin, drumming her fingers on the scarred tabletop. Anxiety thrummed through her veins.

Did Brax get out?she wondered for the hundredth time. Her stomach revolted at the idea of him getting blown up. At the last minute, she had a twinge of conscience and tried to lure him out. But the idiot had stepped over a tripwire, triggering the explosives she’d planted.

Typical. He always made things so difficult.

Okay, yes, she had intended to kill him. Well, technically, she’d been hired by The Agency to eliminate his whole team. But, in her defense, she hadn’t known Brax was a part of Ex Nihilo until after she’d accepted the job. Plus, she didn’t go through with it because she owed him for saving her ass back in Afghanistan. She’d been inches away from stepping on an IED when he’d tackled her to the sandy ground.

And now they were even.

Well, if he was still alive.

A box popped up and Merlin began typing.

Hello, Cardinal,Merlin wrote.Is it done?

I need more time,she responded.Only one took the bait, but he may have escaped.

For a long moment, there was no response. Well, what did he expect? That she’d be able to wipe them all out at once? They were highly-trained killers, notoriously difficult to neutralize. But then again, so was she. Except her training had come from the CIA rather than the military.

That’s disappointing,he wrote.

Was it, though? She couldn’t decide and began chewing on her thumbnail, a bad habit that she couldn’t seem to stop. Especially when she was under a lot of pressure. Right now, her poor nails were shredded.

More typing. This time, a clear threat:If you can’t get the job done…

“Then what?” Quinn asked the screen, eyes narrowing. She didn’t respond well to threats. Her boots dropped to the floor with a thunk as she sat up straight and scowled at the screen.

You invited me to be a part of The Agency,she reminded him.

Not that she gave a shit about the group itself. They sounded like a bunch of elite, power-hungry assholes. Truthfully, all she’d wanted was a paycheck and a job to keep her mind busy. Their offer came at the right time with the right price tag.

On the contingency you eliminated Ex Nihilo,Merlin tossed back.

And I’m working on that,she typed, banging out the keystrokes quickly and with more force than necessary. But it felt good. Like poking that fuckwad Merlin in the eye with each press of a button.

Work faster.

Quinn sighed and pushed the laptop away. Easier said than done. This time, she had a history with her target that couldn’t be denied. Five years ago, she would’ve taken great pleasure in wiping Braxton Graves off the face off the planet. She’d been so damn angry, hurt beyond words, and she could be a hothead. Right now, however, her conscience was rearing its head and her gut was practically flashing red warning lights.

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