Page 31 of Hunter's Game
A sharp knock cut him off. “Meeting in twenty,” King’s voice carried through the door. “And tell your fed we found something she needs to see.”
“Ex-fed,” Eden called back, but she was already moving, gathering scattered clothes with practiced efficiency.
She felt Hunter’s eyes on her naked body as he watched her dress, and a quick glance found his expression unreadable. “Having second thoughts?”
“About sleeping with a member of the MC I’m conspiring with to take down an international crime syndicate?” She pulled on her boots, avoiding his eyes. “Or about throwing away my entire career to pursue a personal vendetta?”
“Either. Both.” He rose in one fluid motion, and Eden forced herself not to get distracted by all that tattooed skin. “This thing between us…it complicates everything.”
“Everything was already complicated.” All the more reason she shouldn’t be getting in so deep with him, but she didn’t want to look to hard at that particular truth. She checked her weapons out of habit, though she doubted she’d need them inside the compound. “At least now we’re sharing body heat while we plot treason.”
His laugh was dark and promising as he dressed. “That what we’re calling it?”
Before she could respond, there was another knock. “Now,” King barked. “Unless you two want to explain to Romano’s contact why we’re late.”
That got their attention. They made quick work of dressing and joined King in the hallway, making it to the meeting room in record time, fully armed and mostly decent. Eden cataloged the faces around the table as they all found their seats—Darkness, his inner circle, and a man she didn’t recognize. Middle-aged, expensive suit, the kind of bland features that helped him blend into any crowd.
“Agent Mitchell.” The stranger’s smile never reached his eyes. “Or is it just Miss Mitchell now? I hear your career trajectory took quite a turn.”
“Who are you?” Hunter’s voice held a warning as he sat forward, obscuring the man’s view of Eden.
“Someone with mutual interests.” The man placed a phone on the table. “And information about Romano’s next target.”
Eden studied him more carefully. “You’re one of his people.”
“Was.” The man’s smile turned bitter. “Until he decided I’d outlived my usefulness. Now I’m just another loose end he plans to tie up after the museum job.”
“Which museum?” King demanded.
Instead of answering, the man played a video on his phone. Security footage showed Romano meeting with a familiar face—the curator Eden had been cultivating as a source for months.
Eden immediately recognized Dr. Chen’s distinctive posture, the way she carried herself withthat familiar grace Eden had noticed in the museum documentation. Something about the curator’s movements had always nagged at her—the precision that spoke of more than academic training.
“The Institute of Ancient History,” she breathed. “They’re opening a new wing next week. Priceless artifacts from—”
“From private collections around the world,” the man finished. “Collections that don’t officially exist. No documentation, no proof of ownership, no way to trace their true origins.”
“Or their true value.” Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “The art theft operation was just a cover. He’s been using it to launder artifacts looted from war zones.”
Eden’s mind raced. “The restoration company, the forged documentation, the shipping routes—it all makes sense. He’s been building an infrastructure to move stolen antiquities through legitimate channels.”
“Very good.” The man’s approval made her skin crawl. “Romano’s been playing a long game. The museum heist is just the final piece—a way to give his entire operation an air of legitimacy.”
“Why tell us?” King’s voice held that steel quality she had grown familiar with.
“Because Romano’s empire is built on borrowed time and stolen goods.” The man stood. “And I’d rather see it burn than let him bury me with it.”
He headed for the door, then paused. “Oh, and Miss Mitchell? Your mother found out about the antiquities operation fifteen years ago. That’s why Romano had your father kill her. Just thought you should know.”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click that seemed to echo in Eden’s head. She felt Hunter’s hand on her knee under the table, grounding her as the implications sank in.
“Eden.” Darkness’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “You good?”
She looked down at her hands, surprised to find them steady. “I’m good. And I know how we’re going to take him down.”
“The museum job?” Hunter’s thumb traced circles on her leg.
“Better.” She met Darkness’s and then King’s eyes across the table. “We’re going to steal his entire operation out from under him. And I know exactly how to do it.”
