Page 33 of Hunter's Game
Understanding dawned in Hunter’s eyes. “He’s building an army.”
“Worse.” She pulled out her backup drive, showing him the real numbers. “He’s building a private military corporation. One with enough resources and political coverage to operate above the law. The museum job? It’s not just about stealing artifacts. It’s about legitimizing his whole operation.”
Hunter absorbed this, his expression darkening. “Does King know?”
“Not yet.” She watched his reaction carefully. “I needed to be sure before I brought it to the club.”
“You mean you needed to be sure of me.” There was no accusation in his voice, justunderstanding. “Still having trust issues, Agent Mitchell?”
“Ex-agent,” she corrected automatically, then sighed. “And can you blame me? Everyone I’ve ever trusted either betrayed me or died. Usually both.”
Instead of answering, he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle—nothing between them ever was. His hands tangled in her hair as he pressed her harder against the wall, demanding everything she shouldn’t give.
She gave it anyway.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m not everyone.”
“No,” she agreed softly. “You’re much more dangerous.”
A phone rang—one of the dead mercenaries’ devices. They shared a look before Eden answered on speaker.
“Status report,” Romano’s cultured voice filled the room.
Eden recognized the patrician tone immediately, imagining his silver-streaked dark hair and manicured appearance as he sat somewhere secure, orchestrating their deaths with the same detached precision he used for everything.
Eden disguised her voice with practiced ease. “Target eliminated. Moving to secondary objective.”
“Excellent.” A pause. “Though I must say, Agent Mitchell, your accent needs work.”
Eden’s blood ran cold. Hunter was already moving, grabbing essential gear as more vehicles appeared on the street below.
“The thing about trust,” Romano continued conversationally, “is that it’s such a fragile commodity. Take your new friends in the Blind Jacks, for instance. How do you think they’ll react when they learn you’ve been feeding information to other federal agencies? That every move they make is being monitored by a joint task force?”
Eden’s hand tightened on the phone. “You’re lying.”
“Am I? Check your secure DEA email. The one you thought was deleted when Thompson died. You’ve been a very busy girl, haven’t you?”
The call ended. Eden’s fingers flew across her backup laptop, accessing servers she shouldn’t still have access to. What she found made her breath catch.
Weekly reports to the FBI. Operation updates to Homeland Security. Her name, her passwords, her authorization codes—all still active, all showing regular activity.
“Eden.” Hunter’s voice was carefully neutral. “Tell me he’s lying.”
“He is.” She turned the screen to show him. “These reports? I didn’t write them. Someone’s been using my credentials, documenting everything that’s happened since my father died.Including...” She trailed off, scanning the latest entry.
“Including what?”
“Including a detailed account of my relationship with you.” She met his eyes. “And a recommendation to use it to infiltrate the Blind Jacks leadership.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. Outside, more vehicles were arriving. They had minutes at most before the building was surrounded.
“Hunter.” She took a step toward him, but he held up a hand.
“We need to move.” His voice was cold in a way she’d never heard before. “Darkness needs to know about Romano’s operation. And about this.”
“I didn’t write those reports.” She hated how desperate she sounded. “You have to believe me.”
“Right now, I don’t know what to believe.” He checked his weapons with mechanical precision. “Except that we’re about to have a lot of company, and we need to get back to the compound.”
